The Exeter Book

The Exeter Book is the largest collection of Old English writings, and contains the oldest surviving colletion of riddles written in O.E. Its other works such as the religious poems and elegies are certainly literary and historical treasures, but the riddles--an earthy mix of conundrum poems ranging from humorous to haunting--are unique.

The book itself is a riddle. It currently resides in the Exeter Cathedral library, probably donated originally by Leofric, the first Exeter bishop, c.1050 AD. Before that, however, it's provenance is a mystery made all the more curious by clues left on its binding: beer mug rings and cheese and bread smears in knife scores, to name a couple of odd markings.

This is one of my favorite riddle-poems from the Book of Exeter, as translated by Crossley-Holland:

An enemy ended my lfe, deprived me
of my physical strength; then he dipped me
in water and drew me out again,
and put me in the sun where I soon shed
all my hair.

After that, the knife's sharp edge
bit into me and all my blemishes scraped away;
fingers folded me and the bird's feather
often moved over my brown surface,
sprinkling meaningful marks; it swallowed more wood-dye
(part of the stream)
and again travelled over me
leaving black tracks.

Then a man bound me,
he stretched skin over me and adorned me
with gold; thus I am enriched by the wondrous work
of smiths, wound about with shining metal.

Now my clasp and my red dye
and these glorious adornments bring fame far and wide
to the Protector of Men, and not to the pains of Hell.

If only the sons of men would make use of me
they would be the safer and the more victorious,
their hearts would be bolder and thei minds more at ease,
their thoughts wiser, and they would have more friends,
companions and kinsmen (courageous, honourable,
trusty, kind) who would gladly increase
their honour and prosperity, and heap
benefits upon them, ever holding them
most dea.

Ask what I am called,
of such use to men.

My name is famous,
of service to men and sacred in itself.


Not the hardest riddle, and much wordier than most, but nevertheless one I enjoy. Here's another:

When I heard of that wonder
it struck me as a strange event:
That a worm should swallow the song of some man,
a thief gorge in the darkness on a great man's
speech of distinction. The thievish stranger
was not a whit the wiser for swallowing words.


Happy riddling!