Anglo-Saxon poetry - arras.net

T h e B a t t l e o f B r u n a n b u r hThat year King Aethelstan, lord of Earls,warrior’s patron, and his brother also, PrinceEdmund, gained gloryeternal by the blade’sedge, at battle in Brunanburh. Edward’sdescendants, they scaled the shield-wall,sliced linden with hammerblows– a naturalpassion for them, known from posterity, thatthey at war hold firm from danger: land,hoard and home. EnemyScots fell dead;sailors faltered, fated to die. The fieldblackened with men’s blood, from time whenthe morning sun – gloriousstar! – glidedover the grounds – God’s bright candle! ofthe Lord eternal! – till the noble disk sank toits seat. Many men, shreddedby spears, laythere – Northern men, shattered over shield,and scores of Scots, sated with war, exhausted.The West Saxonsburned, all day, inpg. 9