The poem I give here is subject to a couple of different interpretations. If you choose to read it, I challenge you to read it without any research. Just use a dictionary and figure it out. Then, check out what the differing interpretations are and see how yours fits in.
Lēodum is mīnum swylce him mon lāc gife;
willað hȳ hine āþecgan gif hē on þrēat cymeð.
Ungelīc is ūs.
Wulf is on īege, ic on ōþerre.
5 Fæst is þæt ēglond, fenne biworpen.
Sindon wælrēowe weras þǣr on īge;
willað hȳ hine āþecgan gif hē on þrēat cymeð.
Ungelīce is ūs.
Wulfes ic mīnes wīdlāstum wēnum hogode,
10 þonne hit wæs rēnig weder ond ic rēotugu sæt,
þonne mec se beaducāfa bōgum bilegde,
wæs mē wyn tō þon, wæs mē hwæþre ēac lāð.
Wulf, mīn Wulf! wēna mē þīne
sēoce gedydon, þīne seldcymas,
15 murnende mōd, nales metelīste.
Gehȳrest þū, Ēadwacer? Uncerne eargne hwelp
bireð wulf tō wuda.
Þæt mon ēaþe tōslīteð þætte nǣfre gesomnad wæs,
uncer giedd geador.
September 22, 2005
from the Exeter Cathedral MS 3501 (Baker 227), from a collection of poetry donated to Exeter Cathedral by Bishop Leofric in 1072 and generally called ‘the Exeter Book’ (Baker 226). [I do not remember what or who Baker was/is ]
Cool detail (well, I think it is cool) one of the words in the poem is a cognate of the first word in Eyjafjallajökull, the Icelandic volcano that last erupted in 2010 and almost--almost--stranded me in Munich.