Insanely Tricky Medieval Riddles We're Still Trying To Understand

March 26, 2020 82.5K views15 items

Many assume the Dark and Medieval ages were periods of gloom and plague, but in reality, they weren't that dark. Medieval riddles serve as proof that people in the Medieval era were inventive and clever – so much so, that the average person today might struggle to solve Saint Aldhelm's Riddles. Not to worry, we've provided both the Medieval riddles and answers below. Solutions can be found at the end.

1
No one can hold me in his palms or sight; I scatter sudden clatter far and wide. I want to hammer oaks with mournful might; Yes, I strike sky and scour countryside.
2
Shades shifting as I leave the Earth and sky, My place is not on land; it’s not up high. No one else dreads his exile with such fears, But I would make the world be lush with tears.
3
Spawned without seed, produced in ways of wonder, I load my sweetened breast with floral plunder; Kings’ honeyed fare grows gilded through my flair. Sharp spears of fearsome war are what I bear, And I beat - handless! - craftsmen’s metalware.
4
With flesh that’s furrowed and a bluish glow, I’m formed to grind crude metal with each row. Smoothing gold hoards and ore is what I know. Remaining coarse, I keep a surface sleek; While lacking speech, I croak a raucous shriek.
5
My sweet voice warbles ways that are unique; I will not trill songs with a raucous beak. I’m drab, but still my singing’s hard to spurn, So I keep singing though the future’s bleak. Cold routs me, but in heat I’ll soon return.
6
The early evening stuck its name on me; I cloak the wester world from my high height. When Titan dips life-giving flesh in sea, And, lost in gray-blue waves, sky drops from sight, I follow glassy plains while hiding light – And I’m not snatched from Heaven, blessedly, As light keeps clearing gloomy shades of night.

No one can hold me in his palms or sight; I scatter sudden clatter far and wide. I want to hammer oaks with mournful might; Yes, I strike sky and scour countryside.

Shades shifting as I leave the Earth and sky, My place is not on land; it’s not up high. No one else dreads his exile with such fears, But I would make the world be lush with tears.

Spawned without seed, produced in ways of wonder, I load my sweetened breast with floral plunder; Kings’ honeyed fare grows gilded through my flair. Sharp spears of fearsome war are what I bear, And I beat - handless! - craftsmen’s metalware.

With flesh that’s furrowed and a bluish glow, I’m formed to grind crude metal with each row. Smoothing gold hoards and ore is what I know. Remaining coarse, I keep a surface sleek; While lacking speech, I croak a raucous shriek.

My sweet voice warbles ways that are unique; I will not trill songs with a raucous beak. I’m drab, but still my singing’s hard to spurn, So I keep singing though the future’s bleak. Cold routs me, but in heat I’ll soon return.