Carmina qui quondam studio florente peregi ,
flebilis heu maestos cogor inire modos .
Ecce mihi lacerae dictant scribenda Camenae
et veris elegi fletibus ora rigant .
Has saltem nullus potuit pervincere terror
ne nostrum comites prosequerentur iter .
Gloria felicis olim viridisque iuventae ,
solantur maesti nunc mea fata senis .
Venit enim properata malis inopina senectus
et dolor aetatem iussit inesse suam .
Intempestivi funduntur vertice cani
et tremit effeto corpore laxa cutis .
Mors hominum felix , quae se nec dulcibus annis
inserit et maestis saepe vocata venit !
Eheu , quam surda miseros avertitur aure
et flentes oculos claudere saeva negat !
Dum levibus male fida bonis fortuna faveret
paene caput tristis merserat hora meum :
nunc quia fallacem mutavit nubila vultum
protrahit ingratas impia vita moras .
Quid me felicem totiens iactastis , amici ?
Qui cecidit , stabili non erat ille gradu .

Hwæt , ic lioða fela lustlice geo
sanc on saelum ; nu sceal siofigende ,
wope gewæged , wreccea giomor ,
singan sar-cwidas . Me þios siccetung hafað
agæled , ðes geocsa , þæt ic þa ged ne mæg
gefegean swa fægre , þeah ic fela gio þa
sette soð-cwida þonne ic on sælum wæs .
Oft ic nu miscyrre cuðe spræce
and þeah uncuðre aer hwilum fond .
Me þas woruld-sælða welhwaes blindne
on ðis dimme hol dysine forlæddon ,
and me þa berypton rædes and frofre
for heora untreowum , þe ic him aefre betst
truwian sceolde . Hi me to wendon
heora bacu bitere and heora blisse from .
Forhwam wolde ge , weoruld-frynd mine ,
Secgan oððe singan þæt ic gesællic mon
Wære on weorulde ? Ne synt þa word soð
nu þa gesælða ne magon simle gewunigan .

I who was once at the height of my powers a master of versecraft -
Woe is me ! - weeping , coerced , enter the grief-ridden mode .
Lo ! Their cheeks harrowed , the Muses come tell me the words I must take down ,
And they now dampen my face with lachrymose elegy ' s truth .
Them , and them only , no panic could vanquish or frighten from coming
As my companions alone over the path I must tread .
They who were once the delight of a youth that was prosperous and happy
In my misfortunes console me , now a grieving old man .
For now has arrived , unexpected and hastened by evils , my old age -
Pain gave the order ; its years now must be added to mine .
Now from the top of my head flows down snow-white hair , quite out of season ;
Barren , my body is sheathed , in shivering , limp , nerveless skin .
Happy the death of a man that would thrust itself not in the sweet years !
But , when incessantly called , comes to those stricken with grief .
Woe is them ! With a deaf ear she rejects all pleas of the wretched -
Merciless , she will not close eyes that are brimming with tears .
While faithless Fortune was partial to me with ephemeral favors ,
A single , deplorable hour nearly plunged me in my grave .
Now that she ' s darkly transformed her appearances , ever deceitful ,
Must then my unholy life drag out this ghastly delay ?
Tell me , my friends , why you boasted so often that I was so blessed -
Soldiers who fell never had stable ground on which to stand .