The Fight at Brunanburh

Æthelstan King, of earls the lord, Of heroes ring-giver, and his brother too, Edmund Ætheling, enduring fame Earned in the fight with edges of swords By Brunanburh. The board-wall they cleaved, The war-shields hewed with leavings of hammers The sons of Edward. 'Twas natural to them By right of descent that in battle they oft 'Gainst every foe their land defended, Their hoards and homes. The foes were fallen, Folk of the Scots and men of the ships, Fated they fell. The field ran thick With heroes' blood, when the risen sun At morning-time, the mighty orb, Shone o'er the earth, bright candle of God, Eternal Lord, till the noble creature Sank to his rest. There many men lay Struck down with spears, men from the North, Shot o'er the shield, and Scotsmen too, Weary [and] war-filled. The West-Saxons forth The live-long day with legions of warriors Pressed on the heels of the hostile foes; They felled the fleers with force from behind With sharp-ground swords. Shrank not the Mercians From hard hand-play with any of heroes, Of those who with Anlaf o'er welling of waves On the deck of the ship had sought the land, Fated for fight. Five of them lay On the battle-field, young kings [they were], Slaughtered with swords, and also seven Earls of Anlaf, and unnumbered host Of seamen and Scots. There was forced to flee The Northmen's chief, by need compelled To the prow of his ship with few attendants. Keel crowded the sea, the king went forth On the fallow flood; he saved his life. There too the agèd escaped by flight To his home in the North, Constantínus. The hoar war-hero was unable to boast Of attendance of men; he was robbed of his kinsmen, Bereaved of his friends on the battle-field, Conquered in fight, and he left his son On the place of slaughter wasted with wounds, The boy in the battle. He durst not boast, The gray-haired warrior, of the clash of swords, The agèd enemy, nor Anlaf the more. With their army-remnant they durst not rejoice That in deeds of war they proved to be better On the place of battle, the striking of standards, The mingling of spears, the meeting of men, The clashing of weapons, when on slaughter-field In contest with Edward's sons they contended. Departed the Northmen in nailèd ships, Drear remnant of darts, on the sea of Dyng[?], O'er the water deep Dublin to seek, Back to land of the Erse, depressed in mind. Likewise the brothers both together, King and ætheling, were seeking their home, West-Saxons' land, exulting in war. Behind them they let the corpses share The dark-feathered fowl, the raven black, The crooked-beaked, and the ashy-feathered, White-tailed eagle enjoy the prey, The greedy war-hawk, and the gray-clad beast, The wolf in the wood. More corpses there wére not Upon this island ever as yet Of folk down-felled before this time With edges of sword, as books to us tell, Sages of old, since hither from East Angles and Saxons came to this land, O'er the broad ocean Britain [once] sought, Haughty war-smiths the Welsh overcame, Earls eager for honor this earth acquired.

Lit., 'became slippery,' Gn.; 'babbled' (as a brook), or 'became dark,' Kr.; 'streamed,' Th.