Years ago I tried to teach myself Old English. I came across this translation I did of a riddle from Exeter.

I have since found better translations, offering far clearer clues, and basically making me look bad. Oh well…

I am widely found, by worthy men,
And brought from grove, mountain, dale, and glen.

By day I’m carried upon airy feather,
And wrought by skill under roofed shelter.

Later, I am both warrior and goon
Whom men, young and old, wrestles down.

Shortly after I am found,
a man is trapped in struggling round;

His back will have to seek the field,
who lacks the wisdom when to yield.

Strength of speech, strength be stole,
hands, feet, spirit; lose control.

What on earth could I be,
that binds battered, foolish men, when first light seen?