Eadgar of Poe, ‘Þe Hræfn’

Midniht wæs ond ful dreoriġ, hwīl biþoht-mi, wac ond weriġ,
Uppan monig an ascung wyrdig boc of lār forgoten eall —
Ich ġedrusod, eallmæst slæpan, sodeynly þer ros an ræpan,
As of som ane soft yclæppan, clæppan at myn healle dōr.
“Som gæst comeþ,” did ich momble, “clæppan at myn healle dōr —
Anlic þis ond nan þing mor.”

Ic mimoriġ clar ond eke wæsin wintresmonaþ bleke,
Ond dieġende eac ǣmyrġe worhte hir gāst uppan þe flor.
Georne sēċe ic þe morgen; — idelliċe soght áborgan
From myn bocum carwielmes endung — carwielm for losod Lænor —
For þe selden sċīnende mǣden þæt þe englas namodon Lænor—
Namales hēr ǣfre mōr.

…

Thanne þis fugol swart gewercian min sæd ġeþoht unto smearcian,
Bi þe græf ond sternlic þyncþ andwlitan hit werede, lo!
“Þeah thi cræst bi sċear is sċæfen, þu,” ic sæġde, “eart næfre crafian,
Gǣstlic grimm ond ieldest Hræfn wandraþ fro þe Nihtes scor —
Tele mi þi eorles nama uppan Nihtes Wælcyrgena scor!”
Cwæþ þe Hræfn, næfre ma.