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Author Topic: The Pied Piper of Hamelin  (Read 22269 times)

Linden

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #15 on: February 26, 2017, 08:54:22 PM »
I was thinking that the clothes are described later both as being 'old-fangled' and brightly coloured (i.e. rather child-like) so getting across the idea of the strange and wonderful at this point might be a good approach to getting across the surprise of his appearance?  As far as I know, there is no OE word that carries all the senses of quaint which has changed its meaning umpteen times since it first appeared in English in the 13th C. It seems to have retained a vestige of its older senses of 'ingenious' and 'strange' along with the modern 'attractively unusual or old-fashioned'.  Hope this helps.
Cræft biþ betere ðonne æhta

David

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #16 on: March 13, 2017, 03:21:36 PM »
I have now translated the first five verses anyway.
 
The Pied Piper of Hamelin                                           Se Fāga Pīpere Hamelines
 
Hamelin Town's in Brunswick,                                    Hamelin burg is in EaldSeaxlande,
 By famous Hanover city;                                            Be cūþum Hanover  ceastre;
 The river Weser, deep and wide,                                 Sēo ǣ Weser, dēop and brād,
 Washes its wall on the southern side;                        Hrīnþ hiere burgweall æt sūþhealfe;
 A pleasanter spot you never spied;                            Ġecwēmliċra splott þū næfre sāwe;
 But, when begins my ditty,                                        Ac, þā beġinþ mīn lēoþ,
 Almost five hundred years ago,                                  Fulnēah fīf hund ġēaras ġēo,
 To see the townsfolk suffer so                                    Sēon þā burgfolc adrēogaþ swā
 From vermin, was a pity.                                            Forðǣm fūl dēor, wæs earmung.
 
Rats!                                                                          Rætas!
 They fought the dogs and killed the cats,                  Hīe ġefeohtaþ þā hund and ācweliaþ þā cattas,
 And bit the babies in the cradles,                               And biton þā lȳtlingas in þǣm cradolum,
 And ate the cheeses out of the vats,                          And ǣton þā ċysas ūt þā fatu,
 And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles,        And liċċodon þæt broð ūt þāra cōca āgenra hlædelas,
 Split open the kegs of salted sprats,                          Clufon rȳman þā fatu ġesyltra sprotta,
 Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,                       Macodon nest innan manna Sunnandæġes hætum,
 And even spoiled the women's chats,                         And furðum mierredon þāra mōtunga wīfa,
 By drowning their speaking                                         Þurh ādyfan hiera ġemaðel
 With shrieking and squeaking                                      Þurh ċirmane and hwicunge
 In fifty different sharps and flats.                                 Unġemede unġemet.
 
At last the people in a body                                        Æt nyhstan þæt folc teofenodon
 To the Town Hall came flocking:                                 Cumanne tō þǣm burgsæle:
 “Tis clear,'' cried they, “our Mayor's a noddy;             “Hit is ġeswutelung” cwædon hīe “ūre Burgealdor is hnoc”
 And as for our Corporation -- shocking                      And swā ġeondscēawan ūre Ġield  -- scamaþ
 To think we buy gowns lined with ermine                    Þencan þe wē bycgaþ  brattas mid hearmascinnenum  fnadum
 For dolts that can't or won't determine                       For sottum þe ne magon nyllaþ ġerǣdan
 What's best to rid us of our vermin!                            Þe is betst tō āhreddanne ūs of ūrum dēorum!
 You hope, because you're old and obese,                   Ġē hopiaþ, forðǣm ġē sind ealde and oferfǣtte, 
 To find in the furry civic robe ease?                            Findan in þæs scynnes burgrēafe īeþnesse?
 Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking                 Onstyraþ, menn! Āhrēraþ ēowere brægen
 To find the remedy we're lacking,                               Findan þā bōte þe wē forðoliaþ,
 Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!''                  Oððe, sicor swā wyrd, wē ēow tōforlǣtaþ!”
 At this the Mayor and Corporation                             Æt þissum se Burgealdor and þæt Ġield                   
 Quaked with a mighty consternation.                        Cwaciaþ mid mihtiġre swearcmodnesse.
 
An hour they sat in council,                                       Hīe sǣton in ġemōt for ānre tīde,
 At length the Mayor broke silence:                            Æt nȳhstan se Burgealdor bræc stillness:
 “For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell;                      “For scillinge iċ cȳpe mīnre hearmascinnenum bratt;
 I wish I were a mile hence!                                         Iċ wille þe iċ sīe mīl hēonan!
 It's easy to bid one rack one's brain --                       Biddan þe mann āhreraþ āgen brægen --
 I'm sure my poor head aches again,                          Iċ eom ġewiss þe mīn earme hēafod æcþ eft,
 I've scratched it so, and all in vain                              Iċ hit clāwode swā, and eall īdel
 Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!''                                      Ēalā for feallan, feallan, feallan!” 
 Just as he said this, what should hap                         Efne swā sæġde hē þis, hwæt ġelimpþ
 At the chamber door but a gentle tap?                       Ac man cnucode smoltlīce æt þæs būres dūra?
 “Bless us,'' cried the Mayor, “what's that?''                “Bletsiaþ ūs,” ċirmþ se Burgealdor, “hwæt is þæt?”
 (With the Corporation as he sat,                                (swā sæt hē mid þǣm Ġield,
 Looking little though wondrous fat;                           Ætīewede lȳtel þēah wrǣlīce fǣtt; 
 Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister                         Ne beorhtre wæs his ēage ne fūhtre
 Than a too-long-opened oyster,                                  Ðonne tō lange open ostre,
 Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous           Būton þonne æt middæġtīd his fǣtt maga wearþ unġerecliċ
 For a plate of turtle green and glutinous)                    For disc sæbyrdes grēnes and clibbores)
 "Only a scraping of shoes on the mat?                      “Ǣnliċ scearfung scōna on þǣre meattan? 
 Anything like the sound of a rat                                  Āwiht ġelīċ se swēġ rætes
 Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!''                                    Dēþ mine heortan slecgēttan pit-apat!”
 
“Come in!'' -- the Mayor cried, looking bigger             “Ingā!” --  se Burgealdor clipaþ, ætwiende māra
 And in did come the strangest figure!                          And fregensylliċ ansīen inēode!
 His queer long coat from heel to head                          His elelendisc lang cyrtel fram hēlan tō heafode
 Was half of yellow and half of red,                                Wæs healf ġeolwes and healf rēades,
 And he himself was tall and thin,                                 And hē self wæs lang and þynne,
 With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin,                          Mid cēnum hǣwenum ēaġum, ġehwæðer līcaþ pinn,
 And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin                           And lēohtum unfæstum hǣre, ġīet earpre hyde,
 No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin,                             Ne toppe on hlēore ne beard on ċinne,
 But lips where smile went out and in;                           Ac welerum þǣr ūtgǣð and inǣð weler;
 There was no guessing his kith and kin:                       Man ne mihte ārædan his cyþþe and cynn:
 And nobody could enough admire                                And nān mihte  ġenōg wundrian
 The tall man and his quaint attire.                                Þone langan wer and his seldiċe claðas.
 Quoth one: “It's as my great-grandsire,                      Cwæþ ān: “Hit is swā ġif mīn ǣrfæder,
 Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone,                   Sturtende æt þæs Blǣdhornes Dōmes swēge,
 Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!''      Ġēong on þisse wise fram his ġefægdum byrgelsstāne!”


Bowerthane

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #17 on: March 24, 2017, 02:27:45 PM »
CONGRATULATIONS ;D  on winning the Alfred Prize, David!




David

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #18 on: March 24, 2017, 04:11:55 PM »
Thank you, Bowerthane. However that was not what I expected to see when clicking on the Pied Piper thread.


I felt that the 3 entries made an impressive show in issue 180, but it would have been nice to have had more entries. Hopefully my letter might encourage a couple more next time. I'm afraid that I can't help with this year's prize as poetry is a closed book to me. Maybe Martin's article will open my eyes a little.

cynewulf

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #19 on: March 24, 2017, 09:15:15 PM »
My congratulations added. The latest edition of Widowinde is superlative. A fine job by all involved. Keep up the brilliant work !

Phyllis

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #20 on: March 26, 2017, 10:45:30 AM »
Absolutely echo what Cynewulf says - so pleased for you, David!

And a great magazine (again)

It's my perfect Mother's Day gift actually - I am going to sit and read it in peace :)
Phyllis

David

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #21 on: March 28, 2017, 09:12:15 AM »
I have just noticed that in the title of my translation I wrote “Sprǣce” where it should be “Sprǣċ”. I could argue that I added the “e” to palatise the “c” as some Anglo Saxons did. In fact I forgot the dot and got carried away with the rest of the title being in the genitive.
 
At the end of the week I shall get back to posting the “Pied Piper” here.

David

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #22 on: April 02, 2017, 08:08:22 AM »
I have now translated the first six verses.
 
The Pied Piper of Hamelin                                           Se Fāga Pīpere Hamelines
 
Hamelin Town's in Brunswick,                                    Hamelin burg is in EaldSeaxlande,
 By famous Hanover city;                                            Be cūþum Hanover  ceastre;
 The river Weser, deep and wide,                                 Sēo ǣ Weser, dēop and brād,
 Washes its wall on the southern side;                        Hrīnþ hiere burgweall æt sūþhealfe;
 A pleasanter spot you never spied;                            Ġecwēmliċra splott þū næfre sāwe;
 But, when begins my ditty,                                        Ac, þā beġinþ mīn lēoþ,
 Almost five hundred years ago,                                  Fulnēah fīf hund ġēaras ġēo,
 To see the townsfolk suffer so                                    Sēon þā burgfolc adrēogaþ swā
 From vermin, was a pity.                                            Forðǣm fūl dēor, wæs earmung.
 
Rats!                                                                          Rætas!
 They fought the dogs and killed the cats,                  Hīe ġefeohtaþ þā hund and ācweliaþ þā cattas,
 And bit the babies in the cradles,                               And biton þā lȳtlingas in þǣm cradolum,
 And ate the cheeses out of the vats,                          And ǣton þā ċysas ūt þā fatu,
 And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles,       And liċċodon þæt broð ūt þāra cōca āgenra hlædelas,
 Split open the kegs of salted sprats,                          Clufon rȳman þā fatu ġesyltra sprotta,
 Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,                       Macodon nest innan manna Sunnandæġes hætum,
 And even spoiled the women's chats,                         And furðum mierredon þāra mōtunga wīfa,
 By drowning their speaking                                         Þurh ādyfan hiera ġemaðel
 With shrieking and squeaking                                     Þurh ċirmane and hwicunge
 In fifty different sharps and flats.                                Unġemede unġemet.
 
At last the people in a body                                        Æt nyhstan þæt folc teofenodon
 To the Town Hall came flocking:                                 Cumanne tō þǣm burgsæle:
 “Tis clear,'' cried they, “our Mayor's a noddy;             “Hit is ġeswutelung” cwædon hīe “ūre Burgealdor is hnoc”
 And as for our Corporation -- shocking                      And swā ġeondscēawan ūre Ġield  -- scamaþ
 To think we buy gowns lined with ermine                    Þencan þe wē bycgaþ  brattas mid hearmascinnenum fnadum
 For dolts that can't or won't determine                       For sottum þe ne magon nyllaþ ġerǣdan
 What's best to rid us of our vermin!                            Þe is betst tō āhreddanne ūs of ūrum dēorum!
 You hope, because you're old and obese,                   Man hopaþ, forðǣm ġē sind ealde and oferfǣtte, 
 To find in the furry civic robe ease?                             Findan in þæs scynnes burgrēafe īeþnesse?
 Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking                  Onstyraþ, menn! Āhrēraþ ēowere brægen
 To find the remedy we're lacking,                                Findan þā bōte þe wē forðoliaþ,
 Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!''                    Oððe, sicor swā wyrd, wē ēow tōforlǣtaþ!”
 At this the Mayor and Corporation                               Æt þissum se Burgealdor and þæt Ġield                   
 Quaked with a mighty consternation.                          Cwaciaþ mid mihtiġre swearcmodnesse.
 
An hour they sat in council,                                        Hīe sǣton in ġemōt for ānre tīde,
 At length the Mayor broke silence:                              Æt nȳhstan se Burgealdor bræc stillness:
 “For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell;                       “For scillinge iċ cȳpe mīnre hearmascinnenum bratt;
 I wish I were a mile hence!                                          Iċ wille þe iċ sīe mīl hēonan!
 It's easy to bid one rack one's brain --                        Biddan þe mann āhreraþ āgen brægen --
 I'm sure my poor head aches again,                            Iċ eom ġewiss þe mīn earme hēafod æcþ eft,
 I've scratched it so, and all in vain                               Iċ hit clāwode swā, and eall īdel
 Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!''                                       Ēalā for feallan, feallan, feallan!” 
 Just as he said this, what should hap                          Efne swā sæġde hē þis, hwæt ġelimpþ
 At the chamber door but a gentle tap?                        Ac man cnucode smoltlīce æt þæs būres dūra?
 “Bless us,'' cried the Mayor, “what's that?''                 “Bletsiaþ ūs,” ċirmþ se Burgealdor, “hwæt is þæt?”
 (With the Corporation as he sat,                                 (swā sæt hē mid þǣm Ġield,
 Looking little though wondrous fat;                             Ætīewede lȳtel þēah wrǣlīce fǣtt; 
 Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister                          Ne beorhtre wæs his ēage ne fūhtre
 Than a too-long-opened oyster,                                  Ðonne tō lange open ostre,
 Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous           Būton þonne æt middæġtīd his fǣtt maga wearþ unġerecliċ
 For a plate of turtle green and glutinous)                    For disc sæbyrdes grēnes and clibbores)
 "Only a scraping of shoes on the mat?                        “Ǣnliċ scearfung scōna on þǣre meattan? 
 Anything like the sound of a rat                                   Āwiht ġelīċ se swēġ rætes
 Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!''                                     Dēþ mine heortan slecgēttan pit-apat!”
 
“Come in!'' -- the Mayor cried, looking bigger            “Ingā!” --  se Burgealdor clipaþ, ætwiende māra
 And in did come the strangest figure!                        And fregensylliċ ansīen inēode!
 His queer long coat from heel to head                        His elelendisc lang cyrtel fram hēlan tō heafode
 Was half of yellow and half of red,                              Wæs healf ġeolwes and healf rēades,
 And he himself was tall and thin,                               And hē self wæs lang and þynne,
 With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin,                        Mid cēnum hǣwenum ēaġum, ġehwæðer līcaþ pinn,
 And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin                         And lēohtum unfæstum hǣre, ġīet earpre hyde,
 No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin,                           Ne toppe on hlēore ne beard on ċinne,
 But lips where smile went out and in;                         Ac welerum þǣr ūtgǣð and inǣð weler;
 There was no guessing his kith and kin:                     Man ne mihte ārædan his cyþþe and cynn:
 And nobody could enough admire                              And nān mihte  ġenōg wundrian
 The tall man and his quaint attire.                               Þone langan wer and his seldiċe claðas.
 Quoth one: “It's as my great-grandsire,                     Cwæþ ān: “Hit is swā ġif mīn ǣrfæder,
 Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone,                  Sturtende æt þæs Blǣdhornes Dōmes swēge,
 Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!''    Ġēong on þisse wise fram his ġefægdum byrgelsstāne!”
 
He advanced to the council-table:                              Hē,  forðēode tō þǣm ġield-borde:
 And, “Please your honours,'' said he, “I'm able,         And, “Weldōn ēow witan,” cwæþ hē, “iċ mæġ,
 By means of a secret charm, to draw                         Þurh diernum galdore, forðtēon
 All creatures living beneath the sun,                          Eallu deor libbendu beneoðan þǣre sunne,
 That creep or swim or fly or run                                 Þe creopaþ oþþe swimmaþ oþþe flēogaþ  oþþe iernaþ
After me so as you never saw!                                    Æfter mē swā swā ġē nǣfre sāwon!
 And I chiefly use my charm                                         And iċ mǣst nēote mines galdres
 On creatures that do people harm,                             For  dēorum þe dōþ dare mannum,
 The mole and toad and newt and viper;                      Sēo wandeweorpe and tāde and efeta and nǣdre;
 And people call me the Pied Piper.''                             And menn mē hǣt se Fāga Pīpere.”
 (And here they noticed round his neck                       (And hēr hīe onfundon ymbe his healsa
 A scarf of red and yellow stripe,                                  Swēorclaþ stafodne rēadne and ġeolone,
 To match with his coat of the self-same cheque;        Efenlǣcan mid his cyrtele þæs selfan ilcan fāgan;
 And at the scarf's end hung a pipe;                            And pipe hēng æt þæs swēorclaþes ende;
 And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying        And his fingras, hīe onfundon, ǣfre wandrodon
 As if impatient to be playing                                        Swā ġif unġeðyldiġ plegian
 Upon this pipe, as low it dangled                                Onuppan þisse pipe, swā niðere hēo āhēng
 Over his vesture so old-fangled.)                                Ofer his scrūd swā ǣrdagas.)
 “Yet,'' said he, “poor piper as I am,                            “Ġīēt,” hē cwæþ, “yfel pipere swā eom iċ,   
 In Tartary I freed the Cham,                                        in Tartary iċ ġefrēode þone Cham,
 Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats,                 Lætestum Ǣrran Līðan, fram his ūþmǣtum gnætgangum,
 I eased in Asia the Nizam                                            Iċ ālihtede in ēastlande þone Nizam
 Of a monstrous brood of vampyre-bats:                    Of unhīerum  brōde blōdsūcingra-hrēaðemūsa:
 And as for what your brain bewilders,                         And for þe ġeondmengeþ þīn bræġen,
 If I can rid your town of rats                                       Ġif iċ mæġe ġeryddan ēowerne burgstede of rætum
 Will you give me a thousand guilders?''                       Ġīefaþ ġē mē ān þusend scillingas?”
 “One? fifty thousand!'' -- was the exclamation           “Ān? Fīftiġ þusend!” – wæs sēo ġeċīġnes
 Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.                 Of þǣm tōðunode Burgealdre and Ġielde.
 
 


David

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #23 on: April 27, 2017, 06:22:41 PM »
I have now finished translating verse seven. As the poem is getting rather long now I am only posting verse 7.
 
Into the street the Piper stept,                                     Se pīpere stōp on þǣre strǣte,   
 Smiling first a little smile,                                              Smearcode lytel ǣr,
 As if he knew what magic slept                                     Swā ġif hē wiste þe drȳcræft slēp
 In his quiet pipe the while;                                            In his swīgre pīpe þā hwīl;
 Then, like a musical adept,                                            Þā, swā ġefremed  drēamere,
 To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled,                            Se pīpere tō blāwanne hē ġerifaþ his smæras,
 And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled,                 And grēne and hǣwe his cēne ēagan twinclodon,
 Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled;                   Swā candele līġ þǣr sealt is ġebeġoten;
 And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered,                   And ǣr ġesprǣc se pīpe þrīe scielle swēġas,
 You heard as if an army muttered;                                Man hīerde swā ġif prass hwǣstrode;
 And the muttering grew to a grumbling;                       And sēo hwǣstrung wōx tō þǣre ċeorung;
 And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;             And sēo ċeorung wōx tō mihtiġ hrēam;
 And out of the houses the rats came tumbling.            And of þǣm hūsum þā rætas cōmon fealletan.
 Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,                Micle rætas, lȳtle rætas, þynne rætas, grēate rætas,
 Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats,                Brūne rætas, blæce rætas, grǣġe rætas, fealwe rætas,
 Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,                         Stæððiġa ealda slāwunga, gāle ġeonge spillere,
 Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,                               Fæder, mōdor, ēamas, swēoras,
 Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,                              Ūpfēġedon tæġlas and scufon byrsta,
 Families by tens and dozens,                                         Mǣgas be meniġe,
Brother, sisters, husbands, wives --                             Brōðor, sweostor, frīend --
 Followed the Piper for their lives.                                  Folgodon þone Pīpere for hiera līf.
 From street to street he piped advancing,                    Fram strǣte tō strǣte he pīpode stæpmǣlum,
 And step for step they followed dancing,                     And stæpmǣlum hīe folgodon hlēapende,
 Until they came to the river Weser                                Oð hīe cōmon tō þǣre ēae Weser
 Wherein all plunged and perished!                                Þǣrin eall adrencton and alæġon!
 -- Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar,                      --Būtan ānum þe, stīð swā Iulius Casere,
 Swam across and lived to carry                                   Swam ġeond and lifde tō beranne
 (As he, the manuscript he cherished)                         (Swā hē, þæt writ hē clypte)
 To Rat-land home his commentary:                            Tō Ræt-landes hāme his ġesæġen:
 Which was, “At the first shrill notes of the pipe,          Þe wæs, “Æt þā forma scielle swēġas þǣre pipe,
 I heard a sound as of scraping tripe,                           Iċ hīerde swēg swā sceafung ġesenes,
 And putting apples, wondrous ripe,                            And fætelsian æpplas, wrǣtliċe rīpe,
 Into a cider-press's gripe:                                          On æppelwīn-treddan gripe:
 And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards,                   And āstyran āweġ ecedfæt-bord,
 And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards,                  And ālǣtan hwōnlīċe unslȳped āsparodes metefætelsas,
 And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks,                 And ġeopenian ræwe elehorna,
 And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks:                 And brecan þā ymblytas  buteran- fætu:
 And it seemed as if a voice                                          And mē þūhte swā ġif stefn
 (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery                     (Swētra ðonne be hearpe oððe be saltere
 Is breathed) called out, ‘Oh rats, rejoice!                    Eðað) ċeallie ‘Lā rætas, blissiaþ!
 The world is grown to one vast drysaltery!                  Sēo woruld is grōwen weorðan ān ofermǣtliċe snǣdinghūs!
 So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon,          Swā þurhwuniaþ frettan, ābitan, habbaþ ēower nōnmete,
 Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!’                          Morgenmete, æfenmete, dæġmete, middæġþēnung,
 And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon,                         And efne swā edwistfull swēte līð,
 All ready staved, like a great sun shone                      Eall ġeru ġebrocen, swā miċel sunne scān
 Glorious scarce an inch before me,                             Wuldorful efne ynce foran mē,
 Just as methought it said, ‘Come, bore me!’               Efne swā mē þūhte þe hit sæġde ‘Cum, mē borian!’
 -- I found the Weser rolling o'er me.''                          -- Iċ fand þe Weser wēolc ofer mē.”
 
 I don't know it puts a blank line in the middle but it will not let me clear it.

David

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #24 on: May 12, 2017, 08:34:59 AM »
Maybe verse 7 was a bit daunting so I think I might post the longer verses in two halves. Here is verse 8 which is much shorter.
 
You should have heard the Hamelin people                  Ġē hīerden þæt Hamelines folc
 Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple                Hringan þā bellan oð hīe rocciaþ þone stīpel
 “Go,'' cried the Mayor, “and get long poles,                “Gāð” clipode se Burgealdor, “and  ġietaþ lange stengas,
 Poke out the nests and block up the holes!                 Pȳtaþ þā nest and fordyttaþ þā þyrlas!
 Consult with carpenters and builders,                         Þeahtigaþ mid trēowyrhtan and timbrendas,
 And leave in our town not even a trace                        And lǣfaþ in ūrum burg ne efen swaðe
 Of the rats!'' -- when suddenly, up the face                 Þara ræta!” – þonne fǣringa, uppe þæt nebb
 Of the Piper perked in the market-place,                      Pīperes āðiddede in þǣre ċeapstowe,
 With a, “First, if you please, my thousand guilders!''   Mid “Forma, ġif ēow līcaþ, mīn þūsend scillinga!”

David

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #25 on: May 27, 2017, 08:20:17 AM »
I have now translated verse 9.
 
A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue;              Þūsend scillinga! Se Burgealdor ġelīcode hǣwen;
 So did the Corporation too.                                        Swā dyde þæt Ġield ēac.
 For council dinners made rare havoc                           For tūnrædes dæġmetas dōð selcūð līcung
 With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock;                  Mid wīn of Bordeaux, Moselle and Hochhiem;
 And half the money would replenish                            And healf þæt feoh fylle
 Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish.                      Hiera cleofan mǣstan tunnan mid wine Rīnes.
 To pay this sum to a wandering fellow                         Ġieldan þisne rim tō wǣþendum menn
 With a gipsy coat of red and yellow!                            Mid Eġiptiscum cyrtele rēades and ġeolwes!
 “Beside,'' quoth the Mayor with a knowing wink,        “Eaca”, cwæþ se Burgealdor mid cnāwendre wincunge,
 “Our business was done at the river's brink;               “Ūre intinga wæs ġedōn æt þǣre ēas ecge;
 We saw with our eyes the vermin sink,                        Wē sāwon mid ūrum ēagan þā fūl dēor besenċan,
 And what's dead can't come to life, I think.                And þætte sīe dead ne mihte cwician, iċ hycge.
 So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink                      Swā, frēond, wē ne sind folc scrincan
 From the duty of giving you something to drink,        Fram þǣre nīedscylde þē sellan āwiht drincan,
 And a matter of money to put in your poke;               And intinga sceattes in þīnne pohhan settan;
 But as for the guilders, what we spoke                       Ac swā þā scillingas, þe wē  spǣcon
 Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.              Þāra, swā þū cnawst ful wel , wæs gamende.
 Beside, our losses have made us thrifty.                    Ēac, ūre lyras ūs dōþ bēon fercuþe.
 A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!''                      Þūsend scillinga! Witodliċe, fōh fīftiġ!”

Bowerthane

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #26 on: May 30, 2017, 02:27:52 PM »
Okay... here goes Mr Picky!

On lines three, ten and thirty-six of verse 7 ( and on lines sixteen and twenty-six of verse 6 now that I get my finger out) you have Swā ġif/ swā ġif and on line thirteen of verse 5 you appear to have swā ġif where the original has only as.  I’m under the impression that just swā is perfectly sufficient in Old English and I don’t recall seeing swā ġif in original Old English.  Do you have the advantage of me or was this just force of habit from the modern idiom?  I’m rather anxious about this as I thought I’d got it straight for my Dickens translation because this sort of thing definitely gets under my radar, believe me.

On line six of verse 8 wouldn’t in ūrum burg more likely be on ūrum burg but wouldn’t just ūrum burg do?

On line six of verse 9 you have menn.  Is this just a slip for mann?


But more important than any of that I’m enjoying this thank you, David.  Congratulations on Eġiptiscum cyrtele, that was really smart work.


___________________________________________________________________________________________________
The moral right of the author to be identified as the sole survivor, because the Fen rat always finds a way, has been asserted.

David

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #27 on: May 30, 2017, 03:58:31 PM »
In verse 5 line 13 I translated “as” as “swā ġif” as it appeared to mean “as if” rather than “as”. With the other instances I just continued with “swā ġif”. My dictionary tells me that “swā” can mean “as if” among its many meanings. I just felt that “swā ġif” made it clearer. I have never seen “swā”, “swā ġif” or anything else to mean “as if”
 
I think that “in ūrum burge”, “on ūrum burge” or just “ūrum burge” are equally as good. I agree that “on” is probably the most common but I tend to use “in” for “in” and “on” for "on". The real error was omitting the “-e” in “burg” as it should be dative.
 
“Menn” is the dative singular of “mann”, but I do wonder whether that is the best word.
 
I’m glad you are enjoying this – I was wondering whether I was on my own. I’m pleased that you liked “Eġiptiscum cyrtele”.  There have been several problems like that and I wonder  how well I have dealt with them.

Linden

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #28 on: May 30, 2017, 10:05:17 PM »
For 'as if' could you not use 'swilce' (Bosworth & Toller s.v. swilce IV)?
Cræft biþ betere ðonne æhta

David

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Re: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
« Reply #29 on: May 31, 2017, 06:38:53 PM »
Thank you for that, Linden. I seem to remember reading that hwilċ and swilċ came from hwā liċ and swā liċ with the “-e” added on to make it an adverb. This makes me lean more to swilċe than swā. However my preference would still be for swā ġif if the Anglo- Saxons actually said that.
 
I cannot remember seeing any of these for “as if” in Old English. However surely they must have said “as if” somewhere in the literature. Can anyone help us out?