Bergen Catholic Talisman

on-line edition of our literary magazine

Anglo-Saxon Riddle # 33


A creature came through the waves, beautiful

And strange, calling to shore, its voice

Loud and deep; its laughter froze

Men’s blood; its sides were like sword-blades. It swam

Contemptuously along, slow and sluggish,

A bitter warrior and a thief, ripping

Ships apart, and plundering.  Like a witch

It wove spells– and knew its own nature, shouting:

”  My mother is the fairest virgin of a race

Of noble virgins: she is my daughter

Grown great.  All men know her, and me,

And know, everywhere on earth, with what joy

We will come to join them, to live on land!”

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