105
Then out-cry was raised, the ravens circled,
Eagle eager for prey; on earth was uproar.
Then they let from their fists the file-hardened spears,
The darts well-ground, [fiercely][14] fly forth:
The bows were busy, board point received, 110
Bitter the battle-rush, warriors fell down,
On either hands the youths lay dead.
Wounded was Wulfmaer, death-rest he chose,
Byrhtnoth's kinsman, with bills[15] was he,
His sister's son, mightily hewn. 115
There was to the wikings recompense given;
Heard I that Edward one of them slew
Strongly with sword, stroke he withheld not,
That fell at his feet the fated warrior;
For that did his prince give thanks to him, 120
To his bower-thane,[16] when he had opportunity.
So firmly stood the fierce-in-mind,
The youths in fight, eagerly thought
Who there with his spear might soonest be able
From a fated man the life to win, 125
A warrior with weapons: the dead to earth fell.
Steadfast they stood; strengthened them Byrhtnoth,
Bade that each youth of battle should think
He who on the Danes glory would gain.
Went then a war-brave, his weapon uplifted, 130
His shield for defence, and strode towards the chief;
So earnest he went, the earl to the churl:
Each for the other of evil was thinking.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103