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Uma mostra da base da língua de Rohan

Tópico em 'Idiomas Tolkienianos' iniciado por Lingwilóke, 30 Out 2002.

  1. Lingwilóke

    Lingwilóke Usuário

    Eis os dez primeiros versos do poema Beowulf, escrito em inglês antigo ou anglo-saxão.

    Hwæt! We Gardena in geardagum,
    þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon,
    hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon.
    Oft Scyld Scefing sceaþena þreatum,

    monegum mægþum, meodosetla ofteah,
    egsode eorlas. Syððan ærest wearð
    feasceaft funden, he þæs frofre gebad,
    weox under wolcnum, weorðmyndum þah,
    oðþæt him æghwylc þara ymbsittendra

    ofer hronrade hyran scolde,
    gomban gyldan. þæt wæs god cyning!
    Ðæm eafera wæs æfter cenned,
    geong in geardum, þone god sende
    folce to frofre; fyrenðearfe ongeat

    þe hie ær drugon aldorlease
    lange hwile. Him þæs liffrea,
    wuldres wealdend, woroldare forgeaf;
    Beowulf wæs breme (blæd wide sprang),
    Scyldes eafera Scedelandum in.

    Swa sceal geong guma gode gewyrcean,
    fromum feohgiftum on fæder bearme,
    þæt hine on ylde eft gewunigen
    wilgesiþas, þonne wig cume,
    leode gelæsten; lofdædum sceal

    in mægþa gehwære man geþeon.
    Him ða Scyld gewat to gescæphwile
    felahror feran on frean wære.
    Hi hyne þa ætbæron to brimes faroðe,
    swæse gesiþas, swa he selfa bæd,

    þenden wordum weold wine Scyldinga;
    leof landfruma lange ahte.
    þær æt hyðe stod hringedstefna,
    isig ond utfus, æþelinges fær.
    Aledon þa leofne þeoden,

    beaga bryttan, on bearm scipes,
    mærne be mæste. þær wæs madma fela
    of feorwegum, frætwa, gelæded;
    ne hyrde ic cymlicor ceol gegyrwan
    hildewæpnum ond heaðowædum,

    billum ond byrnum; him on bearme læg
    madma mænigo, þa him mid scoldon
    on flodes æht feor gewitan.
    Nalæs hi hine læssan lacum teodan,
    þeodgestreonum, þon þa dydon

    þe hine æt frumsceafte forð onsendon
    ænne ofer yðe umborwesende.
    þa gyt hie him asetton segen geldenne
    heah ofer heafod, leton holm beran,
    geafon on garsecg; him wæs geomor sefa,

    murnende mod. Men ne cunnon
    secgan to soðe, selerædende,
    hæleð under heofenum, hwa þæm hlæste onfeng.

    Summary :
    The story begins with the story of Scyld Scefing, a great king who ruled by virtue of his power being greater than all others, and none would challenge him. This kept the peace, and he was rewarded with tributes of gold.

    The son of Scyld, Beow(ulf), continued the rule of giving gold to the worthy and earning respect and loyalty. His fame spread throughout the North-lands and their prosperity grew.

    And when Beow died, they adorned him and his ship with treasure and set him off to burial at sea.

    Calma, em inglês moderno fica assim:

    LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
    of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
    we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
    Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,

    from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
    awing the earls. Since erst he lay
    friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
    for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
    till before him the folk, both far and near,

    who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
    gave him gifts: a good king he!
    To him an heir was afterward born,
    a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
    to favor the folk, feeling their woe

    that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
    so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
    the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
    Famed was this Beowulf:1 far flew the boast of him,
    son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.

    So becomes it a youth to quit him well
    with his father's friends, by fee and gift,
    that to aid him, aged, in after days,
    come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,
    liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds

    shall an earl have honor in every clan.
    Forth he fared at the fated moment,
    sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.
    Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,
    loving clansmen, as late he charged them,

    while wielded words the winsome Scyld,
    the leader beloved who long had ruled....
    In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
    ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:
    there laid they down their darling lord

    on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,2
    by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
    fetched from far was freighted with him.
    No ship have I known so nobly dight
    with weapons of war and weeds of battle,

    with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
    a heaped hoard that hence should go
    far o'er the flood with him floating away.
    No less these loaded the lordly gifts,
    thanes' huge treasure, than those had done

    who in former time forth had sent him
    sole on the seas, a suckling child.
    High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
    a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
    gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,

    mournful their mood. No man is able
    to say in sooth, no son of the halls,
    no hero 'neath heaven, -- who harbored that freight!