Modern English Translation:
Here King Ezelstan, lord of men,
ring-giver of warriors, and his brother also,
Eadmund the Fzeling, everlasting glory
achieved in battle by the edges of swords
near Brunanburh. They cleaved the shield-wall,
hewed the war-lindens with the leavings of hammers,
the offspring of Eadward, as befitted their descent
from noble ancestors, that they often in battle
against each enemy should defend the land,
treasure and homes. The enemy perished, 10
Scots people and Vikings
fell doomed. The field flowed
with the blood of warriors, since the sun rose
in the morning time, the glorious star
glided over the ground, God’s bright candle,
the eternal Lord’s, until the noble creature
sank in setting. There lay many a man
gored by spears, a man of the north
shot over the shield; just as the Scots also,
weary, sated with war. The West Saxons went forth 20
the long day with picked troops
on the tracks of the hated people,
fiercely cutting down from behind those in flight
with file-sharpened swords. The Mercians did not refuse
hard hand-play with any hero
who with Olaf over the sea’s surge
in a ship’s bosom sought land,
doomed in battle. Five young kings lay
on that battlefield,
put to sleep by swords; likewise seven 30
jarls of Olaf, and countless numbers of the army,
Vikings and Scots. There was put to flight
the prince of the Northmen, compelled by necessity
to the prow of his ship with little company;
the ship pushed to sea, the king went out
on the fallow flood: he saved his life.
Likewise there all the old man in flight came
to his northern kin, Costontinus,
grey battle warrior; he had no cause to exult
in the meeting of swords; he was stripped of kinsmen, 40
deprived of friends on the battlefield,
slain in strife; and he left his son
on the field of slaughter, destroyed by wounds,
young at war. He had no need to boast,
the grey-haired warrior, in the clash of swords,
the malicious old man, no more than did Olaf;
with their remnant of warriors; they had no cause for laughter
that they had the better on the battle field
in the clash of banners, the encounter of spears,
the meeting of men, the exchange of blows 50
of those who on the field of slaughter
with Edward’s sons played.
Then departed the Northmen, the dreary survivors of spears,
in nailed ships onto Dingesmere
over deep water to seek Dublin,
and again Ireland, ashamed in spirit.
Likewise the brothers both together,
king and atheling, sought their kinsmen,
the land of West Saxons, exulting in war.
They left behind them to enjoy corpses 60
the dark-coated one, the black raven,
the horn-beaked one and the dun-coated one,
the eagle white from behind, to enjoy the carrion,
the greedy war-hawk, and the grey beast,
the wolf in the forest. Never was there greater slaughter
on this island ever yet
of folk felled before this
by the sword’s edge, of which books tell us,
by wise old men, since from the east hither
Angles and Saxons came up 70
over the broad seas seeking Britain,
proud war-smiths, they overcame the Welsh,
noble warriors, eager for glory, conquered the land.
