The Battle of Brunanburh

Here Æthelstan the king, of earls the lord,
Bracelet-giver of barons and his brother as well,
Edmund the Ætheling, honor eternal
Won at warfare by the wielding of swords
Near Brunnanburg; they broke the linden-wall,
Struck down the shields with the sharp work of hammers,
The heirs of Edward, as of old had been taught
By their kinsmen who clashed in conflict often
Defending their firesides against foemen invaders,
Their hoards and their homes. The hated ones perished,
Soldiers of Scotland and seamen-warriors--
Fated they fell. The field was wet
With the blood of the brave, after the bright sun
Had mounted at morning, the master of planets
Glided over the ground, God's candle clear,
The Lord's everlasting, till the lamp of heaven
Sank to its setting. Soldiers full many
Lay mangled by spears, men of the Northland,
Shamefully shot o'er their shields, and Scotchmen,
Weary and war-sated. The West-Saxons forth
All during the day with their daring men
Followed the tracks of their foemen's troops.
From behind they hewed and harried the fleeing,
With sharp-ground swords. Never shunned the Mercians
The hard hand-play of hero or warrior
Who over the oar-path with Anlaf did come,
Who sailed on a ship and sought the land,
Killed in the conflict, kings full youthful,
Put to sleep by the sword, and seven also
Of the earls of Anlaf, and others unnumbered,
Of sailors and Scotchmen. Sent forth in flight then
Was the prince of the Northmen, pressed hard by need,
To the stem of his ship; with a staunch little band
To the high sea he hurried; in haste the king sailed
Over the fallow flood, fled for his life.
Also the sage one sorrowfully northward
Crept to his kinsmen, Constantinus,
The hoary war-hero; for him was small need
To boast of the battle-play; the best of his kinsmen
And friends had fallen on the field of battle,
Slain at the strife, and his son left behind
On the field of fight, felled and wounded,
Young at the battle. No boast dared he make
Of strife and of sword-play, the silver-haired leader,
Full of age and of evil, nor had Anlaf the more.
With their vanquished survivors no vaunt could they make
That in works of war their worth was unequalled,
In the fearful field, in the flashing of standards,
In the meeting of men, and the mingling of spears,
And the war-play of weapons, when they had waged their battle
Against the heirs of Edward on the awful plain.
Now departed the Northmen in their nailed ships,
Dreary from dart-play on Dyngesmere.
Over the deep water to Dublin they sailed,
Broken and baffled back to Ireland.
So, too, the brothers both went together,
The King and the Ætheling; to their kinsmen's home,
To the wide land of Wessex --warrior's exultant.
To feast on the fallen on the field they left
The sallow-hued spoiler, the swarthy raven,
Horned of beak, and the hoary-backed
White-tailed eagle to eat of the carrion,
And the greedy goshawk, and that gray beast,
The wolf in the wood. Not worse was the slaughter
Ever on this island at any time,
Or more folk felled before this strife
With the edge of the sword, as is said in old books,
In ancient authors, since from the east hither
The Angles and Saxons eagerly sailed
Over the salt sea in search of Britain,--
Since the crafty warriors conquered the Welshmen
And, greedy for glory, gained them the land.