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There is an Old English Rune Poem; this is not a translation of that but a poem for Modern English Runestaves, written (I hope) in the style of the Old English poem.
The Fee Eightsome
ᚠ Fees and funds and flocks and finances;
To keep you comfy, to care for others.
ᚢ Up Ower! the aurochs upwardly horned;
Fearsome fighter of fells and forests.
ᚦ A thorn in the heart is a thing to thole,
It lets a lover linger for longer.
ᚩ Oswald overlord, king of old,
On Bamburgh’s bargh now lies he buried.
ᚱ The road is for riding a roan red steed
Or wending your way with a wink and a smile
ᚳ The chene by the chimney is cherished by all
It’s brightness and brilliance bested by none.
ᚷ A gift from god is granted to those
Who’re balm for the blighted, and better the poor.
ᚹ Wyn will wash your woes away
Free of sorrow, you’re safe and secure.
The Hail Eightsome
ᚻ Hail that’s hurled from heaven on high
Dashes the wheat and darkens the dawn.
ᚾ Need like night may numb the heart
Or stir the soul to stronger things
ᛁ In ice that’s buffed are inky images ;
A frosty floor is fine to the eye
ᛄ Years may age the youthful yeoman
Yet bring on wisdom to the wizard’s workings.
ᛇ Yew’s a tree that’s yeared and yarn-filled
Fast and firm, for the finest fittings.
ᛈ The perth it holds the precious perry
Tankards tilted and tapped in taverns.
ᛉ The she-elk shoulders her shapeless sorrows
She lost her fawn to a frightful forester.
ᛋ Sile who spreads the sea with sunlight
Skimming across the sand-rimmed saltwater
The Tew Eightsome
ᛏ Tew the tireless trembling for battle
Steadfast star of the northern sky.
ᛒ Birch is barren bearing branches
Silver skinned with slender waist.
ᛖ Eigh when ridden ne’er ails nor aches
Highly honed well-hooved that horse.
ᛗ Man in mirth his mates does love
But tried and tested them could betray.
ᛚ Law does lie from land to ship
That steed that sails the savage surf.
ᛝ Ing was first our forebear, flagstaff
Brought by breakers, floated not buried.
ᛟ Ethel our endless tradition and heirloom
Down-handed heritage houses and castle.
ᛞ Day will drive off darkness and dyllth
Waking us warmly wanting us well.
The Oak Eightsome
ᚪ Oak who’s oldest owner of forests
Rugged and rigid right for the rigged one.
ᚫ The Ash does for arrows, after-prey flying
Feathered and flighted, finding the fiend.
ᚣ Yre and wrath wordless and wicked
Burns the heart and burdens the brain.
ᛠ The Ear’s a lug that listens and learns
It holds back the heart and hastens the wit.
ᛣ Caulking the crannies keeping off crabs
Proofing with pitch the plank-built poop.
ᛨ Earth is irksome to peasant and earl
Their fated bed’s in that final field.
ᚸ Jaw may gape and jowls jade
As time tears by on its terrible trod.
ᛡ Yore was yester years are bygone
With tender tales of tetchy tests.
The Quearth Eightsome
ᛢ Quearth is quiet and quite unknown
A useless rune that rails at writing.
ᛥ Zed’s the stone solid and silent
Mighty marker on a mountain trail.
ᚡ Vixen dappled from den now darting
chicken-seeking with sudden spring.
ᚥ The owzel sits on sycamore sprig
with baleful glare at boastful bullfinch.
ᚧ That is that and this is this
Let all live and life be long.
ᚮ Sugar will surely not shed any stones
Try pork and poultry and parsnip soup.
ᛪ Measure the milestones marking your path
Treading and tramping the fellside track.
ᛮ Arlaw the latest and last of the letters
Finishes finally foots off the futhorch.
Edwin Ramm 2014.
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Last updated: January 15th, 2014.