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.