Exeter Riddle 5
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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.