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<poem>       &npsp; Here Athelstan king,       &npsp; of earls the lord,       &npsp; rewarder of heroes,       &npsp; and his brother eke,       &npsp; Edmund atheling,       &npsp; elder of ancient race,       &npsp; slew in the fight,       &npsp; with the edge of their swords,       &npsp; the foe at Brumby!(41)       &npsp; The sons of Edward       &npsp; their board-walls clove,       &npsp; and hewed their banners,       &npsp; with the wrecks of their hammers.       &npsp; So were they taught       &npsp; by kindred zeal,       &npsp; that they at camp oft       &npsp; 'gainst any robber       &npsp; their land should defend,       &npsp; their hoards and homes.       &npsp; Pursuing fell       &npsp; the Scottish clans;       &npsp; the men of the fleet       &npsp; in numbers fell;       &npsp; 'midst the din of the field       &npsp; the warrior swate.       &npsp; Since the sun was up       &npsp; in morning-tide,       &npsp; gigantic light!       &npsp; glad over grounds,       &npsp; God's candle bright,       &npsp; eternal Lord!       &npsp; 'till the noble creature       &npsp; sat in the western main:       &npsp; there lay many       &npsp; of the Northern heroes       &npsp; under a shower of arrows,       &npsp; shot over shields;       &npsp; and Scotland's boast,       &npsp; a Scythian race,       &npsp; the mighty seed of Mars!       &npsp; With chosen troops,       &npsp; throughout the day,       &npsp; the West-Saxons fierce       &npsp; press'd on the loathed bands;       &npsp; hew'd down the fugitives,       &npsp; and scatter'd the rear,       &npsp; with strong mill-sharpen'd blades,       &npsp; The Mercians too       &npsp; the hard hand-play       &npsp; spared not to any       &npsp; of those that with Anlaf       &npsp; over the briny deep       &npsp; in the ship's bosom       &npsp; sought this land       &npsp; for the hardy fight.       &npsp; Five kings lay       &npsp; on the field of battle,       &npsp; in bloom of youth,       &npsp; pierced with swords.       &npsp; So seven eke       &npsp; of the earls of Anlaf;       &npsp; and of the ship's-crew       &npsp; unnumber'd crowds.       &npsp; There was dispersed       &npsp; the little band       &npsp; of hardy Scots,       &npsp; the dread of northern hordes;       &npsp; urged to the noisy deep       &npsp; by unrelenting fate!       &npsp; The king of the fleet       &npsp; with his slender craft       &npsp; escaped with his life       &npsp; on the felon flood;       &npsp; and so too Constantine,       &npsp; the valiant chief,       &npsp; returned to the north       &npsp; in hasty flight.       &npsp; The hoary Hildrinc       &npsp; cared not to boast       &npsp; among his kindred.       &npsp; Here was his remnant       &npsp; of relations and friends       &npsp; slain with the sword       &npsp; in the crowded fight.       &npsp; His son too he left       &npsp; on the field of battle,       &npsp; mangled with wounds,       &npsp; young at the fight.       &npsp; The fair-hair'd youth       &npsp; had no reason to boast       &npsp; of the slaughtering strife.       &npsp; Nor old Inwood       &npsp; and Anlaf the more       &npsp; with the wrecks of their army       &npsp; could laugh and say,       &npsp; that they on the field       &npsp; of stern command       &npsp; better workmen were,       &npsp; in the conflict of banners,       &npsp; the clash of spears,       &npsp; the meeting of heroes,       &npsp; and the rustling of weapons,       &npsp; which they on the field       &npsp; of slaughter played       &npsp; with the sons of Edward.       &npsp; The northmen sail'd       &npsp; in their nailed ships,       &npsp; a dreary remnant,       &npsp; on the roaring sea;       &npsp; over deep water       &npsp; Dublin they sought,       &npsp; and Ireland's shores,       &npsp; in great disgrace.       &npsp; Such then the brothers       &npsp; both together       &npsp; king and atheling,       &npsp; sought their country,       &npsp; West-Saxon land,       &npsp; in right triumphant.       &npsp; They left behind them       &npsp; raw to devour,       &npsp; the sallow kite,       &npsp; the swarthy raven       &npsp; with horny nib,       &npsp; and the hoarse vultur,       &npsp; with the eagle swift       &npsp; to consume his prey;       &npsp; the greedy gos-hawk,       &npsp; and that grey beast       &npsp; the wolf of the weald.       &npsp; No slaughter yet       &npsp; was greater made       &npsp; e'er in this island,       &npsp; of people slain,       &npsp; before this same,       &npsp; with the edge of the sword;       &npsp; as the books inform us       &npsp; of the old historians;       &npsp; since hither came       &npsp; from the eastern shores       &npsp; the Angles and Saxons,       &npsp; over the broad sea,       &npsp; and Britain sought,       &npsp; fierce battle-smiths,       &npsp; o'ercame the Welsh,       &npsp; most valiant earls,

      &npsp; and gained the land.</poem>

(Ingram, p.84-87)