Swelce thaere eac se froda mid fleam on his cyththe north, Constantinus har hilde-rinc. Hreman ne thorfte meca gemanan; he waes his maga sc freonda gefielled on folc-stede, beslaegen aet saecce, and his sunu fo on wael-stowe wundum forgrunden geongne aet guthe. Gielpan ne thor beorn blanden-feax bill-gesliehtes, eald inwitta, ne Anlaf thy ma; mid hira here-lafum hliehhan ne tho thaet hie beadu-weorca beteran wu on camp-stede cumbol-gehnastes, gar-mittunge, gumena gemotes, waepen-gewrixles, thaes hie on wae
The Battle of Maldon and other Poems A Black Arrow resource
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The Battle of Maldon: The poem was probably written at the end of the tenth century, and it is one of the most famous writings in Old English which have survived. Unfortunately, the manuscript, which was in the collection of Sir Robert Bruce Cotton, was destroyed in a fire in 1731, but a transcript had been made - although the beginning and end of the poem have been lost. In the battle, the Vikings, under their leader Anlaf, try to land at Maldon after a series of raids along the Essex coast. Here they are confronted by a substantial Anglo-Saxon force, led by Earl Byrhtnoth (or Beorhtnoth, but whose name is now commonly modernised as Brithnoth). The Vikings demand payment as the price of their withdrawal, but Brithnoth scorns the idea of Danegeld, and rejects the offer with contempt. The battle has to wait because of the rising tide. When the tide ebbs, Brithnoth allows the Vikings to cross the river in order to fight on the surrounding land. The Essex men at first stand firm against the invaders, but when Brithnoth is killed by a poisoned spear, some of the defenders panic and flee. The others stand by Brithnoth’s body, and fight to the last. Poems.indd 2
A Black Arrow resource
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The Battle of Maldon Translated from the Anglo-Saxon by Wilfrid Berridge
Brithnoth Decides To Fight Then he ordered each of his warriors his horse to loose Far off to send it and forth to go, To be mindful of his hands and of his high heart. Then did Offa’s Kinsman first know That the earl would not brook cowardice, Loosed he from his hands his darling to fly, His Hawk to the wood, and to the battle strode. From that one could tell that the chieftain would never Weaken in the warfare - when he his weapons seized. And after him Edric chose his chief to follow, His friend in the fight - then ‘gan he forth to bear The spear to the strife - high spirit had he, So long as he with his hands to hold was able His buckler and broadsword; his boast he fulfilled That he by his friend’s side should fight.
Brithnoth Prepares His Array Then did Brithnoth begin his men to bestow He rode up and counselled them - his soldiers he taught How they should stand, and their standing to keep, And bade them their round shields rightly to hold Fast to their forearms, that they flinch not at all. And when he had his folk fairly bestowed He lighted there with his people, where he would liefest be Where he knew his own troops were most to be trusted.
The Vikings Parley Then stood forth on the strand and sternly spake The messenger of the Vikings, delivered his tidings; The Battle of Maldon and other Poems
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He boastfully spoke, for the seafarers Their sentence to the earl, where he stood on the shore. “They sent me to thee, those bold seamen, And bade me to say that thou must send swiftly Ring-money for pledges. For you were it better That you buy off this spear-rush with your tax, Than that we should have so hard a battle. What need we to vex us, if you will agree? We will for this gold a sure compact make If thou wilt agree to it - thou that art strongest. If that thou be willing thy people to redeem, To yield to the seamen at their own choice Tribute for a truce, and so take peace of us, Then will we with the tax to ship betake us To sail on the sea - and hold truce with you. Brithnoth made answer - his buckler he grasped, Brandished his slender spear - and spoke. “Hearest thou, sea-robber, what this people say? For tribute they’re ready to give you their spears, The edge poison-bitter, and the ancient sword. War-gear that will bring you no profit in the fight. Thou messenger of the seamen, back with thy message. Tell to thy people, these far more hateful tidings, There stands here a good earl in the midst of his men, Who will this country ever defend, The kingdom of Aethelred, mine overlord, The folk and the ground - but they shall fall, The foemen in the fight; too shameful methinks That ye with our tribute, to ship should be gone Without a blow struck - now that ye have thus far Made your incoming into our land. Nor shall ye so softly carry off our riches. Sooner shall point and edge reconcile us, 12/1/11 10:24:29
Grim warplay indeed - before we give tribute.” Bade he then to bear the shields, the warriors to go, So that they on the river’s bank all stood.
The Tide Delays The Fighting Nor could for the water, the army come at the other, For there came flowing, flood after ebb; Locked were the ocean-streams, and too long it seemed Until they together might carry their spears. There by Panta’s stream in array they bestood, Essex men’s rank, and the men from the ships, Nor might any one of them injure the other Except where from arrow’s flight one had his death. The flood went out - the pirates stood ready. Full many of the Vikings, eager for battle.
Brithnoth Sets A Guard Over The Ford Then bade the men’s saviour, one to hold the bridge, A warrior war-hardened, that was Wulfstan hight1, Courageous mid his kin - he was Ceola’s son, Who the first foeman with his spear did fell That bravest stepped forth upon the bridge. There stood with Wulfstan warriors goodly Aelfere and Maccus, high hearted both, That never at the ford would turn them to flight, But they steadfastly ‘gainst their foes made defence, While their weapons to wield they were able.
The Vikings Are Baulked When they saw that, and keenly espied That bitter bridge-guardians there they met Then began they to feign - those loathed guests And begged that they might some foothold get, To fare over the ford - the foemen to lead.
Brithnoth Allows The Vikings To Cross Then did the earl, in his overweening heart Lend land too much to that loathed people. Poems.indd 4
Then ‘gan he call out - across the cold water Brighthelm’s son, and all the band listened. “Now room is meted you, come swiftly to us, Warriors to war. Only God knows Who at the end shall possess this fight’s field”. Then went the war wolves - for water they recked not. The troop of the pirates, west over Panta. Over the shining water they carried their shields Seamen to the shore, their bucklers they shouldered. There against the raiders ready stood Brithnoth with his band, and with the bucklers bade Form the shield wall, and make firm the ranks Fast against the foes. Then was fighting nigh, Fame in the fight - now was the hour come When that the feymen2 must fall.
The Battle Is Joined Now was riot raised, the ravens wheeled, The eagle, eager for carrion, there was a cry on earth. Then loosed they from their hands the file-hard lance, The sharp-ground spears to fly. Bows were busied - buckler met point Bitter was the battle-rush, warriors fell On either hand, the young men lay! Wounded was Wulfmur, a war bed he chose, Even Brithnoth’s kinsman, he with swords Was straight cut down, his sister’s son. Then to the Vikings was requital given. I heard that Edward did slay one Straightly with his sword, nor stinted3 the blow, That at his feet fell - the fey warrior. For this his thane did to him give thanks, Even to his chamberlain - when he had a space.
The Essex Men Stand Fast So stood firm the stout-hearted Warriors in the war - they did keenly strive Who with his point first should be able From fey men to win life. A Black Arrow resource
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Warriors with weapons: wrack fell on earth. They stood steadfast; Brithnoth stirred them, Bade each of his men intend to the strife That would from the Danes win glory.
A Viking Attacks Brithnoth Went one stern in battle - his weapon upheaved, His shield for safety - and ‘gainst the chief strode As resolute against him the earl did go, Each to the other did evil intend. Sent then the seafarer a southern dart, And wounded was the warriors’ chieftain. But he shoved with his shield - so that the shaft burst, And the spear broke, and it sprang away. Wroth was the chieftain, he pierced with his spear That proud Viking who gave him that wound. Yet prudent was the chieftain; he aimed his shaft to go Through the man’s neck - his hand guided it So that he reached his sudden enemy’s life. Then he a second swiftly sent That the breastplate burst - in the heart was he wounded Through the ring-harness - and at his heart stood The poisoned point; the earl was the blither:Laughed then that high-heart - made thanks to God For his day’s work - that his Saviour granted him.
A Second Viking Wounds Brithnoth Loosed then one of the foemen a dart from his hands, To fly from his fingers - that it rushed forth Through the noble thane of Aethelred. Close to his side stood a youth not yet grown Wulfstan’s child - even Wulfmeer the younger. He plucked from his chieftain that bloody spear Then loosed the hard spear ‘gainst that other to go; In ran the point - so that he on earth lay Who ere had sorely wounded his chief. Went an armed Viking against the earl Who wished the earl’s jewels to plunder, His armour and rings - and well-adorned sword. The Battle of Maldon and other Poems
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Then Brithnoth drew his sword from sheath Broad and brown edged - and at his breast-plate smote. Too soon hindered him one of the seamen, So that the earl’s arm he did injure. Fell then to earth the fallow-hilted sword, Nor could he hold the hard brand Or wield his weapon.
Brithnoth’s Dying Words Yet then this word did speak The old warrior; cheered on his men Ordered to go forward - his good brethren. No longer could he firmly on his feet stand. He looked up to heaven........ “I thank Thee, Lord of all peoples For all those joys that I on earth have known. Now, my Maker mild - I have most need That thou to my ghost should grant good. That my soul to Thee may journey, Into thy kingdom - O lord of the Angels, May pass with peace - I do desire of Thee That the hell-fiends may not hurt it.” Then hewed at him those heathen men And at both those men that stood him beside, Aelfnoth and Wulfmeer - both fell; Then beside their liege - their lives they yielded.
Godric Begins The Flight
Then fled those from the fight that wished not to be there. Then were Odda’s sons first in the flight Godric from the battle, and left his good lord Who had often given him many a mare, He sprang upon the horse that his lord had owned, Upon the trappings where no right had he, And with him his brothers - they both galloped off, Godrinc and Godwig, they loved not the battle, They went from that war - and the wood they sought, 12/1/11 10:24:31
They fled to the fastness - and saved their own lives, And men more than had any right If they had all bethought them of the blessings That he had done them for their good comfort. Even thus to him Offa one day ere had said In the meeting-place where he held his moot. That with proud minds many did then speak Who later at need would not endure. Then fell that leader of the folk, Aethelred’s earl and all did see, His hearth companions - that their lord was laid low.
Many Continue The Battle Then went forth the proud thanes, Brave men - hastened eagerly, And willed they all - for one of two things: Their lives to lose, or their loved lord to avenge. Thus urged them forth the son of Aelfric, A warrior young in winters - with words he spake, Aelfwin thus said - boldly he spoke, “Think ye of the times when we oft spake at mead When we on the benches did raise up our boast, Henchmen in the hall - about hard strife, Now may each one make trial of how bold he be. Now will I tell my lineage to all That I was in Mercia of a mighty kindred Mine old father - Aldhelm was hight, An alderman wise - and rich in wealth; Nor shall the thanes mid the people reproach me, That I would consent to flee from this fight, My home to seek, now my lord lieth low, Slain in the strife; but yet it most grieves me For that he was both - my kinsman and my lord.” Then went he forth - full mindful of the feud, So that with his spear one he slew. A pirate ‘mong his people - that he fell to the earth. Slain by his weapon. He ‘gan to urge on His comrades and friends - that they should go forth. Offa spake, his spear-shaft shook, “Lo thou, Aelfwin, hast all heartened Poems.indd 6
Thanes at need - now our lord lieth, The earl on the earth - for us all is need That each one of us should hearten the other Warrior to war, while he his weapon may Have and hold, his hard blade, His spear and good sword - for Godric hath us, Odda’s coward son, all betrayed. For many men thought when he rode off on the mare, On that proud steed, that he was our lord. And for that cause are the folk scattered over the field The shield wall broken. May his plan come to nought! For that he so many men hath set to flight.” Leofsund spoke, his buckler uphove, His shield for safety - and that man answered, “I do promise this, that I will not hence Fly a foot’s step, but shall further go To avenge in the war my friendly lord. Then shall not need in Sturmere the steadfast soldiers To twit me with words, now my friend is fall’n, For that I returned home without my lord, Turned from the battle, but the sword shall take me, The point and the steel.” And he, most wroth, departed. Fought steadfastly - flight he despised. Dunmer then spoke - shook his spear, A humble churl - called out above all, Bade each warrior - “Brithnoth avenge! Now may not go he who thinketh to avenge His friend among the folk, nor mourn for his life.”
The Last Stand Of The Thanes And then they went forth - for life they recked not. Then ‘gan the house men hardly to fight, The fierce spear bearers - and they begged God That they might avenge their friendly lord, And on their enemies bring death. Then the hostage ‘gan eagerly help, He was in Northumbria of a hardy kin, Eclaf’s child, and Aesferth his name. He weakened not a whit in the warplay, A Black Arrow resource
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But he sent forth often a shaft, Often he a buckler struck, often a man hit, Ever and again he dealt out wounds The while he his weapons might wield. Then yet in the rank stood Eadward the tall, Ready and eager - a boastful word spoke, That he would not flee a foot’s space of land, Or budge back, now that his better chief was fall’n. He shattered the shield wall and fought with the soldiers Until he his treasure-giver upon the seamen Had worthily avenged - ‘ere he lay with the slain. So did Aeturic - a noble companion, Eager and impetuous - he fought keenly, Sibright’s brother, - and full many more, Split the hollow shields, sharply parried. The buckler’s edge burst, breast-plate sang A grisly song. Then in the strife struck Offa a seaman, that he sank to the earth, And then Gadda’s kinsman the ground sought. Soon in the struggle was Offa struck down Yet had he done what he boasted to his friend As he bragged before to his ring-giver:That they both to the burg should ride Hale to their home, or in the battle fall, On the war field perish of their wounds. He fell like true thane at his chief’s side. Then was breaking of bucklers, the seamen came on Stern to the strife; the spear often pierced A feyman’s body. Forth then went Wistan, Thurstan’s son, with the enemy fought, He was in the throng - of three men the bane Ere him Wigelin’s son on the battlefield laid. Then was stern meeting, stood fast Warriors in the war, then men sank down Wearied with wounds - slaughter fell on earth. Oswald and Ealdwald all the while Brothers both, urged on the men, Their dear kinsmen, with words incited That they there at need should hold out, The Battle of Maldon and other Poems
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Stoutly wield their weapons. Brythwold spoke, grasped his buckler, He was an old comrade, urged the men, He full boldly cheered his soldiers, “Thought must be the harder, heart the keener Spirit shall be more - as our might lessens. There lies our chief all cut down, Good man on the ground; for ever may he grieve Who now from this war-play thinketh to go. I am old in years - hence I will not, But by the side of mine own lord, By my chief so loved, I think to lie.” And thus them all did Aethelgar’s son urge, Even Godric, to the battle - oft he cast a spear, A spear of slaughter to go upon the Vikings, As he ‘mid the folk foremost went, Smote and struck down till he sank down in the fight. He was not that Godric who left the battle. 1 ‘hight’ = archaic, literary word meaning ‘named’ or ‘called’ 2 ‘feymen’ = ‘doomed men’ destined to die in the battle 3 ‘stinted’ = restrained, held back
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The Seafarer I will tell you my personal testament, tally the weight of weary days, the hours of torment, the times of agony, the bitter heart-stabs I have abided, endured in anguish in endless keels thrown through the troughs of towering waves often obsessed in the cell of my heart through night’s narrow watches as the prows of my ships dashed beside cliffs. Cold grasped my aching feet, frost clenched my skin, chilling my bones, while sorrow burned inward, hot in my heart: the hunger within ate at my spirit, sick of my wandering over the ocean. He whose lot keeps him on land can never know my sorrow and need on the freezing sea, how I have endured the path of the exile, deprived of my kin, through winters of pain hung with grim icicles while hail scourged the wind. There I heard nothing but the roar of the sea, the crash of the ice road. The swan’s blare, did me for games -- the gannet’s cry, the curlew’s song for sociable laughter -the mew’s singing for the drinking of mead. There storms beat the stone cliffs, there the tern answered the shattering waves with icy feathers; often the eagle’s scream surrounded the storm with feathers of darkness. No familiar protector could bring consolation to my care riddled spirit. Yet those who enjoy a complacent life secure in their cities, stately and wine-proud, cannot comprehend why I must continue, however weary, to wander the sea-path. Snow swept from the north, night’s shadows descended,
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frost held earth bound, snow covered the world, the coldest of grains. Yet thoughts grip my heart, need moves my spirit: I must go by myself over the salt crests, the cavernous ocean; always my mind moves toward the distance -my heart beats faster, I follow its surge alone as a pilgrim to land far away. Yet none is so spirited nor strong in his courage nor generous in giving nor vigorous in youth nor bold in his actions nor blessed by his lord that he has no fears to follow the sea to the fate that the Lord has stored up for him. The harp does not hold him nor the hoarding of rings nor the pleasures of love nor worldly attainments -his only thought is the tossing of waves -though he has his longings alone on the sea. Groves take blossom, towns come alive, meadows flourish, the world is refreshed; all of this urges the eager mind of the veteran traveler to venture forth into the distance over deep seas. Even the cuckoo, the warden of summer, urges him forward with mournful voice foreboding sorrow, the bitter fate of the innermost heart. Warriors at home, blessed with comfort, can never know how much the sea-pacer must suffer and bear who follows farthest the path of the exile. Yet now my heart hammers my chest, longs for the journey; my hungering spirit soars out wide over the whale’s turf to earth’s far corners and comes back to me insistant and greedy; the lone-glider cries irresistibly pulling my soul to the whale’s path, the boundless ocean. For the bliss of the Lord is warmer to me than this waking death that flickers on land. I have no faith A Black Arrow resource
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i T r i w H d a t t o e e t f n n a i T w i e j D w t W t i T p w n f h G H I s A
in earthly possessions that pass in a day. Till the end of life’s tide one of three things remains uncertain in worldly events: illness or age or hate driven swords will take a man’s life as fate turns its way. Hence for all men it is best to accomplish durable fame, renown in the world, among their survivors, those who speak after they have departed, through deeds of courage, through memorable acts against the fiends’ malice, opposing the devil, earning posterity’s emulation and praise, and forever and ever enjoying the glory of the angels in heaven, the triumphant host. The time has passed for earthly magnificence in majestic realms; now no emperors, no imperial Caesars, no givers of gold do glorious deeds among their peers or live in splendor in lordly dominion as they did in past ages. That fraternity has fallen, the fellowship ended; weaklings now work the world they left in grief and toil. Grandeur has faded, earth’s nobility ages and whithers, just like mankind throughout middlearth. Decrepitude takes them, all grow pale, white-headed they lament, mourn for old friends, the children of nobles given to earth. When life has departed, the cask of the flesh tastes nothing sweet, nor feels any pain, its hands cannot move, nor its mind fashion thoughts. Though brother gives kinsman a magnificent funeral, packing the coffin with precious treasure, with gold to his tribute, it won’t travel with him; no gold can aid nor gain atonement for a soul full of sin in the presence of God, however he hoards it here on this earth. Great is the strength of God almighty; His terrible power turns over this world. It was He Who established the earth’s foundations, spread wide its face and framed it with heaven. A fool is he who fears not his Lord, The Battle of Maldon and other Poems
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fated to die without preparation; Blessed is he whose life is humble, heaven will grant him its mercy. The Lord will secure him a steadfast spirit because he surrenders to the power of God. A man must control the heat of his temper, must find a firm base for his fierce spirit, must honor his pledges and lead a pure life. Every man must learn moderation with friends and with foes, [in fellowship and] anger. Though he may not wish to see his true friends filled with fire or burned in the flames, [yet he must keep patience:] Fate has more power, God has more might than any man knows. Let us consider where we have our true home, then let us reflect on how to arrive there, then let us labor to enter that place, and there find the blessings, the beauties of heaven, where the source of life is the love of God in endless peace. Eternally thank our Lord in the highest, that he should so honor us, the Prince of Glory, throughout all time. Amen.
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The Anglo-Saxon Rune Poem Wealth is a comfort to all men; yet must every man bestow it freely, if he wish to gain honour in the sight of the Lord. The aurochs is proud and has great horns; it is a very savage beast and fights with its horns; a great ranger of the moors, it is a creature of mettle. The thorn is exceedingly sharp, an evil thing for any knight to touch, uncommonly severe on all who sit among them. The mouth is the source of all language, a pillar of wisdom and a comfort to wise men, a blessing and a joy to every knight. Riding seems easy to every warrior while he is indoors and very courageous to him who traverses the highroads on the back of a stout horse. The torch is known to every living man by its pale, bright flame; it always burns where princes sit within. Generosity brings credit and honour, which support one’s dignity; it furnishes help and subsistence to all broken men who are devoid of aught else. Bliss he enjoys who knows not suffering, sorrow nor anxiety, and has prosperity and happiness and a good enough house. Hail is the whitest of grain; it is whirled from the vault of heaven and is tossed about by gusts of wind and then it melts into water. Trouble is oppressive to the heart; yet often it proves a source of help and salvation to the children of men, to everyone who heeds it betimes. Ice is very cold and immeasurably slippery; it glistens as clear as glass and most like to gems; 10
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it is a floor wrought by the frost, fair to look upon. Summer is a joy to men, when God, the holy King of Heaven, suffers the earth to bring forth shining fruits for rich and poor alike. The yew is a tree with rough bark, hard and fast in the earth, supported by its roots, a guardian of flame and a joy upon an estate. Peorth is a source of recreation and amusement to the great, where warriors sit blithely together in the banquetinghall. The Eolh-sedge is mostly to be found in a marsh; it grows in the water and makes a ghastly wound, covering with blood every warrior who touches it. The sun is ever a joy in the hopes of seafarers when they journey away over the fishes’ bath, until the courser of the deep bears them to land. Tiw is a guiding star; well does it keep faith with princes; it is ever on its course over the mists of night and never fails. The poplar bears no fruit; yet without seed it brings forth suckers, for it is generated from its leaves. Splendid are its branches and gloriously adorned its lofty crown which reaches to the skies. The horse is a joy to princes in the presence of warriors. A steed in the pride of its hoofs, when rich men on horseback bandy words about it; and it is ever a source of comfort to the restless. The joyous man is dear to his kinsmen; yet every man is doomed to fail his fellow, since the Lord by his decree will commit the vile carrion to the earth. The ocean seems interminable to men, if they venture on the rolling bark A Black Arrow resource
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a a I t h S A i w D L i r a T m O a i T W t Y k i a I i i T w a P a
r
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and the waves of the sea terrify them and the courser of the deep heed not its bridle. Ing was first seen by men among the East-Danes, till, followed by his chariot, he departed eastwards over the waves. So the Heardingas named the hero. An estate is very dear to every man, if he can enjoy there in his house whatever is right and proper in constant prosperity. Day, the glorious light of the Creator, is sent by the Lord; it is beloved of men, a source of hope and happiness to rich and poor, and of service to all. The oak fattens the flesh of pigs for the children of men. Often it traverses the gannet’s bath, and the ocean proves whether the oak keeps faith in honourable fashion. The ash is exceedingly high and precious to men. With its sturdy trunk it offers a stubborn resistance, though attacked by many a man. Yr is a source of joy and honour to every prince and knight; it looks well on a horse and is a reliable equipment for a journey. Iar is a river fish and yet it always feeds on land; it has a fair abode encompassed by water, where it lives in happiness. The grave is horrible to every knight, when the corpse quickly begins to cool and is laid in the bosom of the dark earth. Prosperity declines, happiness passes away and covenants are broken.
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The Battle of Brunanburh In this year King Aethelstan, Lord of warriors, ring-giver to men, and his brother also, Prince Eadmund, won eternal glory in battle with sword edges around Brunanburh. They split the shield-wall, they hewed battle shields with the remnants of hammers. The sons of Eadweard, it was only befitting their noble descent from their ancestors that they should often defend their land in battle against each hostile people, horde and home. The enemy perished, Scots men and seamen, fated they fell. The field flowed with blood of warriors, from sun up in the morning, when the glorious star glided over the earth, God’s bright candle, eternal lord, till that noble creation sank to its seat. There lay many a warrior by spears destroyed; Northern men shot over shield, likewise Scottish as well, weary, war sated.
Her Aethelstan cyning, eorla dryhten, beorna beag-giefa, and his brothor eac, Eadmund aetheling, ealdor-langetir geslogon aet saecce sweorda ecgum ymbe Brunanburh. Bord-weall clufon, heowon heathu-linde hamora lafum eaforan Eadweardes, swa him ge-aethele waes fram cneo-magum thaet hie aet campe oft with lathra gehwone land ealgodon, hord and hamas. Hettend crungon, Scotta leode and scip-flotan, faege feollon. Feld dennode secga swate siththan sunne upp on morgen-tid, maere tungol, glad ofer grundas, Godes candel beorht, eces Dryhtnes, oth seo aethele gesceaft sag to setle. Thaer laeg secg manig garum agieted, guma Northerna ofer scield scoten, swelce Scyttisc eac, werig, wiges saed.
The West-Saxons pushed onward all day; in troops they pursued the hostile people. They hewed the fugitive grievously from behind with swords sharp from the grinding. The Mercians did not refuse hard hand-play to any warrior who came with Anlaf over the sea-surge in the bosom of a ship, those who sought land, fated to fight. Five lay dead on the battle-field, young kings, put to sleep by swords, likewise also seven of Anlaf’s earls, countless of the army, sailors and Scots. There the North-men’s chief was put to flight, by need constrained to the prow of a ship with little company: he pressed the ship afloat, the king went out
West-Seaxe forth andlange daeg eorod-cystum on last legdon lathum theodum, heowon here-flieman hindan thearle mecum mylen-scearpum. Mierce ne wierndon heardes hand-plegan haeletha nanum thara-the mid Anlafe ofer ear-gebland on lides bosme land gesohton, faege to gefeohte. Fife lagon on tham camp-stede cyningas geonge, sweordum answefede, swelce seofone eac eorlas Anlafes, unrim herges, flotena and Scotta. Thaere gefliemed wearth North-manna brego, niede gebaeded, to lides stefne lytle weorode; cread cnear on flot, cyning ut gewat
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A Black Arrow resource
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o L t h t f k i T r o w l i e t t
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N o p w f s o P g
on the dusky flood-tide, he saved his life. Likewise, there also the old campaigner through flight came to his own region in the north--Constantine-hoary warrior. He had no reason to exult the great meeting; he was of his kinsmen bereft, friends fell on the battle-field, killed at strife: even his son, young in battle, he left in the place of slaughter, ground to pieces with wounds. That grizzle-haired warrior had no reason to boast of sword-slaughter, old deceitful one, no more did Anlaf; with their remnant of an army they had no reason to laugh that they were better in deed of war in battle-field--collision of banners, encounter of spears, encounter of men, trading of blows--when they played against the sons of Eadweard on the battle field.
on fealone flod, feorh generede. Swelce thaere eac se froda mid fleame com on his cyththe north, Constantinus, har hilde-rinc. Hreman ne thorfte meca gemanan; he waes his maga sceard, freonda gefielled on folc-stede, beslaegen aet saecce, and his sunu forlet on wael-stowe wundum forgrunden, geongne aet guthe. Gielpan ne thorfte beorn blanden-feax bill-gesliehtes, eald inwitta, ne Anlaf thy ma; mid hira here-lafum hliehhan ne thorfton thaet hie beadu-weorca beteran wurdon on camp-stede cumbol-gehnastes, gar-mittunge, gumena gemotes, waepen-gewrixles, thaes hie on wael-felda with Eadweardes eaforan plegodon.
Departed then the Northmen in nailed ships. The dejected survivors of the battle, sought Dublin over the deep water, leaving Dinges mere to return to Ireland, ashamed in spirit. Likewise the brothers, both together, King and Prince, sought their home, West-Saxon land, exultant from battle. They left behind them, to enjoy the corpses, the dark coated one, the dark horny-beaked raven and the dusky-coated one, the eagle white from behind, to partake of carrion, greedy war-hawk, and that gray animal the wolf in the forest.
Gewiton him tha North-menn naegled-cnearrum, dreorig darotha laf, on Dinges mere ofer deop waeter Dyflin secan, eft Ira lang aewisc-mode. Swelce tha gebrothor begen aetsamne, cyning and aetheling, cyththe sohton, West Seaxna lang, wiges hremge. Leton him behindan hraew bryttian sealwig-padan, thone sweartan hraefn hyrned-nebban, and thone hasu-padan, earn aeftan hwit, aeses brucan,-graedigne guth-hafoc, and thaet graege deor, wulf on wealda.
Never was there more slaughter on this island, never yet as many people killed before this with sword’s edge: never according to those who tell us from books, old wisemen, since from the east Angles and Saxons came up over the broad sea. Britain they sought, Proud war-smiths who overcame the Welsh, glorious warriors they took hold of the land.
Ne wearth wael mare on thys ig-lande aefre gieta folces gefielled beforan thissum sweordes ecgum, thaes-the us secgath bec, eald uthwitan, siththan eastan hider Engle and Seaxe upp becomon, ofer brad brimu Britene sohton, wlance wig-smithas, Wealas ofercomon, eorlas ar-hwaete eard begeaton.
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The Wanderer “Often the solitary one experiences mercy for himself, the mercy of the Measurer, although he, troubled in spirit, over the ocean must long stir with his hands the rime-cold sea, travel the paths of exile– Fate is inexorable.” So said the wanderer, mindful of hardships, of cruel deadly combats, the fall of dear kinsmen– “Often alone each morning I must Bewail my sorrow; there is now none living to whom I dare tell clearly my inmost thoughts. I know indeed that it is a noble custom in a man to bind fast his thoughts with restraint, hold his treasure-chest, think what he will. The man weary in spirit cannot withstand fate, nor may the troubled mind offer help. Therefore those eager for praise often bind a sad mind in their breast-coffer with restraint. So I, miserably sad, separated from homeland, far from my noble kin, had to bind my thoughts with fetters, since that long ago the darkness of the earth covered my gold-friend, and I, abject, proceeded thence, winter-sad, over the binding of the waves. Sad, I sought the hall of a giver of treasure, Where I might find, far or near, one who in the meadhall might know about my people, or might wish to comfort me, friendless, entertain with delights. He knows who experiences it how cruel care is as a companion, to him who has few beloved protectors. The path of exile awaits him, not twisted gold, frozen feelings, not earth’s glory. he remembers retainers and the receiving of treasure, how in youth his gold-friend accustomed him to the feast. But all pleasure has failed. Indeed he knows who must for a long time do without 14
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Oft him anhaga are gebideð, metudes miltse, þeah þe he modcearig geond lagulade longe sceolde hreran mid hondum hrimcealde sæ, wadan wræclastas. Wyrd bið ful aræd! Swa cwæð eardstapa, earfeþa gemyndig, wraþra wælsleahta, winemæga hryre: “Oft ic sceolde ana uhtna gehwylce mine ceare cwiþan. Nis nu cwicra nan þe ic him modsefan minne durre sweotule asecgan. Ic to soþe wat þæt biþ in eorle indryhten þeaw, þæt he his ferðlocan fæste binde, healde his hordcofan, hycge swa he wille. Ne mæg werig mod wyrde wiðstondan, ne se hreo hyge helpe gefremman. Forðon domgeorne dreorigne oft in hyra breostcofan bindað fæste; swa ic modsefan minne sceolde, oft earmcearig, eðle bidæled, freomægum feor feterum sælan, siþþan geara iu goldwine minne hrusan heolstre biwrah, ond ic hean þonan wod wintercearig ofer waþema gebind, sohte sele dreorig sinces bryttan, hwær ic feor oþþe neah findan meahte þone þe in meoduhealle min mine wisse, oþþe mec freondleasne frefran wolde, weman mid wynnum. Wat se þe cunnað, hu sliþen bið sorg to geferan, þam þe him lyt hafað leofra geholena. Warað hine wræclast, nales wunden gold, ferðloca freorig, nalæs foldan blæd. Gemon he selesecgas ond sincþege, hu hine on geoguðe his goldwine wenede to wiste. Wyn eal gedreas! A Black Arrow resource
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t w o h e h i T s t f T s w h h T f f h T m w h b f t a m n n n n A u w T w a w
the counsels of his beloved lord when sorrow and sleep together often bind the wretched solitary man– he thinks in his heart that he embraces and kisses his lord, and lays hands and head on his knee, just as he once at times in former days, enjoyed the gift-giving. Then the friendless man awakes again, sees before him the dusky waves, the seabirds bathing, spreading their wings, frost and snow fall, mingled with hail. Then are his heart’s wounds the heavier because of that, sore with longing for a loved one. Sorrow is renewed when the memory of kinsmen passes through his mind; he greets with signs of joy, eagerly surveys his companions, warriors. They swim away again. The spirit of the floating ones never brings there many familiar utterances. Care is renewed for the one who must very often send his weary spirit over the binding of the waves, Therefore I cannot think why throughout the world my mind should not grow dark when I contemplate all the life of men, how they suddenly left the hall floor, brave young retainers. So this middle-earth fails and falls each day; therefore a man may not become wise before he owns a share of winters in the kingdom of this world. A wise man must be patient, nor must he ever be too hot tempered, nor too hasty of speech nor too weak in battles, nor too heedless, nor too fearful, nor too cheerful, nor too greedy for wealth nor ever too eager for boasting before he knows for certain. A man must wait, when he speaks a boast, until, stout-hearted, he knows for certain whither the thought of the heart may wish to turn. The prudent man must realize how ghastly it will be when all the wealth of this world stands waste, as now variously throughout this middle-earth walls stand beaten by the wind, The Battle of Maldon and other Poems
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Forþon wat se þe sceal his winedryhtnes leofes larcwidum longe forþolian, ðonne sorg ond slæp somod ætgædre earmne anhogan oft gebindað. þinceð him on mode þæt he his mondryhten clyppe ond cysse, ond on cneo lecge honda ond heafod, swa he hwilum ær in geardagum giefstolas breac. ðonne onwæcneð eft wineleas guma, gesihð him biforan fealwe wegas, baþian brimfuglas, brædan feþra, hreosan hrim ond snaw, hagle gemenged. þonne beoð þy hefigran heortan benne, sare æfter swæsne. Sorg bið geniwad, þonne maga gemynd mod geondhweorfeð; greteð gliwstafum, georne geondsceawað secga geseldan. Swimmað eft on weg! Fleotendra ferð no þær fela bringeð cuðra cwidegiedda. Cearo bið geniwad þam þe sendan sceal swiþe geneahhe ofer waþema gebind werigne sefan. Forþon ic geþencan ne mæg geond þas woruld for hwan modsefa min ne gesweorce, þonne ic eorla lif eal geondþence, hu hi færlice flet ofgeafon, modge maguþegnas. Swa þes middangeard ealra dogra gehwam dreoseð ond fealleþ, forþon ne mæg weorþan wis wer, ær he age wintra dæl in woruldrice. Wita sceal geþyldig, ne sceal no to hatheort ne to hrædwyrde, ne to wac wiga ne to wanhydig, ne to forht ne to fægen, ne to feohgifre ne næfre gielpes to georn, ær he geare cunne. Beorn sceal gebidan, þonne he beot spriceð, oþþæt collenferð cunne gearwe hwider hreþra gehygd hweorfan wille. Ongietan sceal gleaw hæle hu gæstlic bið, þonne ealre þisse worulde wela weste stondeð, swa nu missenlice geond þisne middangeard winde biwaune weallas stondaþ, 15
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covered with rime, snow-covered the dwellings. The wine-halls go to ruin, the rulers lie deprived of joy, the host has all perished proud by the wall. Some war took, carried on the way forth; one a bird carried off over the high sea; one the gray wolf shared with Death; one a sad-faced nobleman buried in an earth-pit. So the Creator of men laid waste this region, until the ancient world of giants, lacking the noises of the citizens, stood idle. He who deeply contemplates this wall-stead, and this dark life with wise thought, old in spirit, often remembers long ago, a multitude of battles, and speaks these words: “Where is the horse? Where is the young warrior? Where is the giver of treasure? Where are the seats of the banquets? Where are the joys in the hall? Alas the bright cup! Alas the mailed warrior! Alas the glory of the prince! How the time has gone, vanished under night’s helm, as if it never were! Now in place of a beloved host stands a wall wondrously high, decorated with the likenesses of serpents. The powers of spears took the noblemen, weapons greedy for slaughter; fate the renowned, and storms beat against these rocky slopes, falling snowstorm binds the earth, the noise of winter, then the dark comes. The shadow of night grows dark, sends from the north a rough shower of hail in enmity to the warriors. All the kingdom of earth is full of trouble, the operation of the fates changes the world under the heavens. Here wealth is transitory, here friend is transitory, here man is transitory, here woman is transitory, this whole foundation of the earth becomes empty. So spoke the wise in spirit, sat by himself in private meditation. 16
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hrime bihrorene, hryðge þa ederas. Woriað þa winsalo, waldend licgað dreame bidrorene, duguþ eal gecrong, wlonc bi wealle. Sume wig fornom, ferede in forðwege, sumne fugel oþbær ofer heanne holm, sumne se hara wulf deaðe gedælde, sumne dreorighleor in eorðscræfe eorl gehydde. Yþde swa þisne eardgeard ælda scyppend oþþæt burgwara breahtma lease eald enta geweorc idlu stodon. Se þonne þisne wealsteal wise geþohte ond þis deorce lif deope geondþenceð, frod in ferðe, feor oft gemon wælsleahta worn, ond þas word acwið: “Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago? Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa? Hwær cwom symbla gesetu? Hwær sindon seledreamas? Eala beorht bune! Eala byrnwiga! Eala þeodnes þrym! Hu seo þrag gewat, genap under nihthelm, swa heo no wære. Stondeð nu on laste leofre duguþe weal wundrum heah, wyrmlicum fah. Eorlas fornoman asca þryþe, wæpen wælgifru, wyrd seo mære, ond þas stanhleoþu stormas cnyssað, hrið hreosende hrusan bindeð, wintres woma, þonne won cymeð, nipeð nihtscua, norþan onsendeð hreo hæglfare hæleþum on andan. Eall is earfoðlic eorþan rice, onwendeð wyrda gesceaft weoruld under heofonum. Her bið feoh læne, her bið freond læne, her bið mon læne, her bið mæg læne, eal þis eorþan gesteal idel weorþeð!” Swa cwæð snottor on mode, gesæt him sundor æt rune. Til biþ se þe his treowe gehealdeþ, ne sceal næfre A Black Arrow resource
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H m t s w I c s
He who is good keeps his pledge, nor shall the man ever manifest the anger of his breast too quickly, unless he, the man, should know beforehand how to accomplish the remedy with courage. It will be well for him who seeks grace, comfort from the Father in the heavens, where a fastness stands for us all.
his torn to rycene beorn of his breostum acyþan, nemþe he ær þa bote cunne, eorl mid elne gefremman. Wel bið þam þe him are seceð, frofre to fæder on heofonum, þær us eal seo fæstnung stondeð.
r
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The Whale Now a fitt about a kind of fish I will frame by my wit, a song with words about the mighty whale. To their sorrow he is often found by seafarers, fierce and cruel to every man; this name is given to the ocean-floater: Fastitocalon. His shape is like a rough stone, as if great sea-weeds, girt by sandbanks, floated by the shore, so that seafarers suppose their eyes behold an isle; and then secure their high-prowed ships by anchor-ropes to that false land; stall their sea-steeds at the water’s edge, and then go up into that isle, stouthearted; their ships stand fast by the shore, engirt by streams. Then the weary mariners encamp, expecting no harm; on that isle, they kindle fire, build a great blaze; the men, worn out, gladly long for rest. When he, skilled in treachery, feels the sailors settled firm upon him, encamped, enjoying the clear weather, then suddenly the ocean-spirit dives down with his prey into the salt wave, seeks the depths, and in the death-hall tries to drown ships and crews. Such is the wont of demons, the way of devils, that, living, they betray men through dark might, draw them to ruin of their good deeds, entice them to pleasure; so that they seek solace from foes, till they firmly choose a dwelling with the devil there. 18
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Nu ic fitte gen ymb fisca cynn wille woðcræfte wordum cyþan þurh modgemynd bi þam miclan hwale. Se bið unwillum oft gemeted, frecne ond ferðgrim, fareðlacendum, niþþa gehwylcum; þam is noma cenned, fyrnstreama geflotan, Fastitocalon. Is þæs hiw gelic hreofum stane, swylce worie bi wædes ofre, sondbeorgum ymbseald, særyrica mæst, swa þæt wenaþ wægliþende þæt hy on ealond sum eagum wliten, ond þonne gehydað heahstefn scipu to þam unlonde oncyrrapum, sælaþ sæmearas sundes æt ende, ond þonne in þæt eglond up gewitað collenferþe, ceolas stondað bi staþe fæste, streame biwunden. Ðonne gewiciað werigferðe, faroðlacende, frecnes ne wenað, on þam ealonde æled weccað, heahfyr ælað hæleþ beoþ on wynnum, reonigmode, ræste geliste. Þonne gefeleð facnes cræftig þæt him þa ferend on fæste wuniaþ, wic weardiað wedres on luste, ðonne semninga on sealtne wæg mid þa noþe niþer gewiteþ garsecges gæst, grund geseceð, ond þonne in deaðsele drence bifæsteð scipu mid scealcum. Swa biþ scinna þeaw, deofla wise, þæt hi drohtende þurh dyrne meaht duguðe beswicað, ond on teosu tyhtaþ tilra dæda, wemað on willan, þæt hy wraþe secen, frofre to feondum, oþþæt hy fæste ðær æt þam wærlogan wic geceosað. A Black Arrow resource
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When from his hell-torment the false impious fiend knows that any one of the human race is firmly fixed on his round form, he then becomes the slayer by artful sleights, of high and low, who, in wickedness, work his will here; with these he quickly, helmet-hidden, void of virtue, seeks hell, the bottomless surge, under misty gloom, even as the mighty whale who sinks seafaring men and ships. Bold water-rusher, he has yet another wondrous trait. When hunger harries him on the wave and the creature craves for food, then the sea-warden opens his mouth, his wide lips; a winsome smell comes from within him so that other kinds of fish are thereby deceived.
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Þonne þæt gecnaweð of cwicsusle flah feond gemah, þætte fira gehwylc hæleþa cynnes on his hringe biþ fæste gefeged, he him feorgbona þurh sliþen searo siþþan weorþeð, wloncum ond heanum, þe his willan her firenum fremmað mid þam he færinga, heoloþhehne biþeaht, helle seceð, goda geasne, grundleasne wylm under mistglome, swa se micla hwæl, se þe bisenceð sæliþende eorlas ond yðmearas. He hafað oþre gecynd, wæterþisa wlonc, wrætlicran gien. Þonne hine on holme hungor bysgað ond þone aglæcan ætes lysteþ, ðonne se mereweard muð ontyneð, wide weleras; cymeð wynsum stenc of his innoþe. þætte oþre þurh þone, sæfisca cynn, beswicen weorðaþ, ...
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The Husband’s Message Now to thee will I tell apart That I sprang from the stock of the tree-race. In other lands the skill of man is wont To set on me cunning characters. Then in a vessel I traverse the salt waves; Oft in the prison of a ship have I visited lands, Where my lord has sent me, And lofty castles. Now am I come hither In the keeled vessel, and now shalt thou know How thou mayest think in thy heart Of the love of my lord. I dare maintain That there thou wilt find true loyalty. Lo! He that carved this stave bade me Pray thee, O jewel-decked, to remember In thy heart the word-pledges, Which in days of yore ye two oft spake, While in the mead-castles ye were permitted To have a home, to dwell in the same land, To practice friendship. Force drove him Out of the land. Now hath he bidden me Earnestly to urge thee to sail the sea When thou hast heard on the brow of the hill The mournfull cuckoo call in the wood. Then let no living man keep thee From the journey of hinder thy going. Betake thee to the sea, the home of the mew; Seat thee in the boat, that southward from here Beyond the road of the sea thou mayest find the man Where waits thy prince in hope of thee. No joy of the world can be greater for him In his thoughts, as he hath told me, Than that the all-ruling God should grant you That ye together should hereafter Give out treasure to men and comrades, Golden rings. Enough he hath Of beaten gold, of wealth and treasure 20
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Nu ic onsundran þe secgan wille …… treocyn ic tudre aweox; in mec æld… sceal ellor londes settan …… sealte streamas …sse. Ful oft ic on bates gesohte þær mec mondryhten min …… ofer heah hofu; eom nu her cumen on ceolþele, ond nu cunnan scealt hu þu ymb modlufan mines frean on hyge hycge. Ic gehatan dear þæt þu þær tirfæste treowe findest. Hwæt, þec þonne biddan het se þisne beam agrof þæt þu sinchroden sylf gemunde on gewitlocan wordbeotunga, þe git on ærdagum oft gespræcon, þenden git moston on meoduburgum eard weardigan, an lond bugan, freondscype fremman. Hine fæhþo adraf of sigeþeode; heht nu sylfa þe lustum læran, þæt þu lagu drefde, siþþan þu gehyrde on hliþes oran galan geomorne geac on bearwe. Ne læt þu þec siþþan siþes getwæfan, lade gelettan lifgendne monn. Ongin mere secan, mæwes eþel, onsite sænacan, þæt þu suð heonan ofer merelade monnan findest, þær se þeoden is þin on wenum. Ne mæg him worulde willa gelimpan mara on gemyndum, þæs þe he me sægde, þonne inc geunne alwaldend god …… ætsomne siþþan motan secgum ond gesiþum s… næglede beagas; he genoh hafað fædan goldes A Black Arrow resource
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Since among strangers he hath a home, A fair abode; there obey him many Noble warriors, though here my banished lord, Driven by necessity, pushed out his boat And on the path of the waves was forced to run, To journey on the water-way, eager for escape, To stir the waves. Now hath the man Overcome his trouble; he hath no lack of pleasures, Of steeds or of jewels, or of mead-joys, Or of any treasure on earth, O prince’s daughter, if he have thee In spite of the old threat against you both. I put together S R EA W and M(D?), to assure thee with an oath That while he lives he will fulfill The pledge and the love-troth That in days of old ye often spake.
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…d elþeode eþel healde, fægre foldan …ra hæleþa, þeah þe her min wine… nyde gebæded, nacan ut aþrong, ond on yþa geong …… sceolde faran on flotweg, forðsiþes georn, mengan merestreamas. Nu se mon hafað wean oferwunnen; nis him wilna gad, ne meara ne maðma ne meododreama, ænges ofer eorþan eorlgestreona, þeodnes dohtor, gif he þin beneah ofer eald gebeot incer twega. Gecyre ic ætsomne sigel*, rad* geador ear*, wynn* ond dæg* aþe benemnan, þæt he þa wære ond þa winetreowe be him lifgendum læstan wolde, þe git on ærdagum oft gespræconn.
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The Lament of Deor Weyland himself by worms / knew wretchedness, the one-minded earl / through hardship he went, he had for his wards / sorrow and longing, winter-cold wrack / woes he often found since then King Nidhad / had bound lithe sinew-bonds / on the selfless man. That was overcome, / so may this be.
Welund him be wurman wræces cunnade, anhydig eorl earfoþa dreag, hæfde him to gesiþþe sorge ond longaþ, wintercealde wræce; wean oft onfond, siþþan hine Niðhad on nede legde, swoncre seonobende on syllan monn. þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg.
Beadohilde was not / of her brothers’ death in soul so sore / as for her own self-thing, that she now / could understand that with child was she; / she could not earnestly think / how that should go. That was overcome, / so may this be.
Beadohilde ne wæs hyre broþra deaþ on sefan swa sar swa hyre sylfre þing, þæt heo gearolice ongieten hæfde þæt heo eacen wæs; æfre ne meahte þriste geþencan, hu ymb þæt sceolde. þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg.
Of Mathilde / whose moans have become reckonless; / Geat’s lady, whose sorrowful love / kept her from all sleep. That was overcome, / so may this be.
We þæt Mæðhilde monge gefrugnon wurdon grundlease Geates frige, þæt hi seo sorglufu slæp ealle binom. þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg.
Theodric owned for / thirty winters Meringsburgh; / that was to many known. That was overcome, / so may this be.
Ðeodric ahte þritig wintra Mæringa burg; þæt wæs monegum cuþ. þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg.
We have heard of / Eormanric’s wolfish thought; / he led widely his folk in Gothenric; / that was a grim king. Sat swords many / sorrow bound, woes in thought, / wished they often that these lands / were overcome. That was overcome, / so may this be.
We geascodan Eormanrices wylfenne geþoht; ahte wide folc Gotena rices. þæt wæs grim cyning. Sæt secg monig sorgum gebunden, wean on wenan, wyscte geneahhe þæt þæs cynerices ofercumen wære. þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg.
Sits he in sorrow and stress, / without mirth, his mind filled with murk; / he thinks that endless are / his woes. May then he think / that throughout this world the wise lord / wends his way onward
Siteð sorgcearig, sælum bidæled, on sefan sweorceð, sylfum þinceð þæt sy endeleas earfoða dæl. Mæg þonne geþencan, þæt geond þas woruld witig dryhten wendeþ geneahhe,
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A Black Arrow resource
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to many earls / and shows them wealth, well-known wonder, / and worth of woes.
eorle monegum are gesceawað, wislicne blæd, sumum weana dæl.
That of myself / I will say this, that I was for a while / the Heodenings’ scop; to my daring laird was I dear; / my name was Deor. I had for many winters / followed faithfully the true-hearted lord, / until Heorrenda now, a skilled song-crafter, / my lands has taken that the earl-shelterer / earlier gave unto me. That was overcome, / so may this be.
þæt ic bi me sylfum secgan wille, þæt ic hwile wæs Heodeninga scop, dryhtne dyre. Me wæs Deor noma. Ahte ic fela wintra folgað tilne, holdne hlaford, oþþæt Heorrenda nu, leoðcræftig monn londryht geþah, þæt me eorla hleo ær gesealde. þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg.
The Battle of Maldon and other Poems
Poems.indd 23
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12/1/11 10:24:42
Poems.indd 24
12/1/11 10:24:43