Exeter Riddle 5

This is riddle number 5 from The Exeter Book.

Translation

I am solitary,     scored by knives
Bitten by swords,     sated of battle
Weary of blades.     War I see often
Terrible conflict.     No comfort I seek
With thoughts of safety     in the thick of war
Before I die     amidst daring men
But I am hurt     by hammer-leavings
The bitter and hardy     handiwork of smiths
Nip me in castles;     I need yet await
Grimmer ordeals.     I could never
In any dwelling     discover a healer
Whose art in herbs     could heal my wounds
But my blade-gashes     grow yet bigger
By deadly blows     by day and night.

poop

Answer

A shield