938

See this in Anglo-Saxon.

<poem>

Here Athelstan king,

of earls the lord,

rewarder of heroes,

and his brother eke,

Edmund atheling,

elder of ancient race,

slew in the fight,

with the edge of their swords,

the foe at Brumby!

The sons of Edward

their board-walls clove,

and hewed their banners,

with the wrecks of their hammers.

So were they taught

by kindred zeal,

that they at camp oft

'gainst any robber

their land should defend,

their hoards and homes.

Pursuing fell

the Scottish clans;

the men of the fleet

in numbers fell;

'midst the din of the field

the warrior swate.

Since the sun was up

in morning-tide,

gigantic light!

glad over grounds,

God's candle bright,

eternal Lord!

'till the noble creature

sat in the western main:

there lay many

of the Northern heroes

under a shower of arrows,

shot over shields;

and Scotland's boast,

a Scythian race,

the mighty seed of Mars!

With chosen troops,

throughout the day,

the West-Saxons fierce

press'd on the loathed bands;

hew'd down the fugitives,

and scatter'd the rear,

with strong mill-sharpen'd blades,

The Mercians too

the hard hand-play

spared not to any

of those that with Anlaf

over the briny deep

in the ship's bosom

sought this land

for the hardy fight.

Five kings lay

on the field of battle,

in bloom of youth,

pierced with swords.

So seven eke

of the earls of Anlaf;

and of the ship's-crew

unnumber'd crowds.

There was dispersed

the little band

of hardy Scots,

the dread of northern hordes;

urged to the noisy deep

by unrelenting fate!

The king of the fleet

with his slender craft

escaped with his life

on the felon flood;

and so too Constantine,

the valiant chief,

returned to the north

in hasty flight.

The hoary Hildrinc

cared not to boast

among his kindred.

Here was his remnant

of relations and friends

slain with the sword

in the crowded fight.

His son too he left

on the field of battle,

mangled with wounds,

young at the fight.

The fair-hair'd youth

had no reason to boast

of the slaughtering strife.

Nor old Inwood

and Anlaf the more

with the wrecks of their army

could laugh and say,

that they on the field

of stern command

better workmen were,

in the conflict of banners,

the clash of spears,

the meeting of heroes,

and the rustling of weapons,

which they on the field

of slaughter played

with the sons of Edward.

The northmen sail'd

in their nailed ships,

a dreary remnant,

on the roaring sea;

over deep water

Dublin they sought,

and Ireland's shores,

in great disgrace.

Such then the brothers

both together

king and atheling,

sought their country,

West-Saxon land,

in right triumphant.

They left behind them

raw to devour,

the sallow kite,

the swarthy raven

with horny nib,

and the hoarse vultur,

with the eagle swift

to consume his prey;

the greedy gos-hawk,

and that grey beast

the wolf of the weald.

No slaughter yet

was greater made

e'er in this island,

of people slain,

before this same,

with the edge of the sword;

as the books inform us

of the old historians;

since hither came

from the eastern shores

the Angles and Saxons,

over the broad sea,

and Britain sought,

fierce battle-smiths,

o'ercame the Welsh,

most valiant earls,

and gained the land.</poem>

(Ingram, p.84-87)