That the buffets I have borne since my birth in the world
Were never more than now, either new or old.
5 Ever the evils of exile I endure!
Long since went my lord from the land of his birth,
Over the welling waves. Woeful at dawn I asked
Where lingers my lord, in what land does he dwell?
Then I fared into far lands and faithfully sought him,
10 A weary wanderer in want of comfort.
His treacherous tribesmen contrived a plot,
Dark and dastardly, to drive us apart