- s47 ##
47 (K-D 53)
I saw a tree with bright branches
stand high in a grove. The tree was happy,
the growing wood. Water and earth
fed it well, till wise with time
it met with a change: it was deeply hurt,
dumb with bonds, covered with wounds,
but adorned in front with dark ornaments.
Now it clears the way for a treacherous foe
through the might of its head. By storm they plunder
the hoard together. Eager was the rear
and active in aid if the van met danger.
None could venture in difficult places.
The solution is supposed to be a Tree, cut down, and made into a Battering-ram. The last lines are corrupt, the meter defective. Various emendations have been offered.
- s48 ##
48 (K-D 73)
I grew up in a field, lived where the earth
and the sky fed me, till old in years
they turned me aside, those who hated me,
from the way that was mine, that I held while I lived.
They altered my fashion, took me from the ground
and against my nature made me bow at times
to a slayer’s will. Now in my master’s hand
. . . . . . . . . .
cares for me well carries me in battle
with skill by his will. It is widely known
that I among the bold with a thief’s craft
. . . . . . . . . .
sometimes openly against a fastness
I break forth where before was peace.
