The Honour Of Good Men On The Path To Eternal Glory

Then did they of proud spirit split the shield-wall,

Men of King Aethelstan, men of honour.

Battle shields were hewn with the remnants of hammers.

Befitting their noble descent,

That they should, defend their land,

In battle against each hostile people,

Horde and home!

Horde and home!

The enemy perished,

The field flowed with the blood of warriors,

Till that noble creation,

The Lords bright randle,

Sank to its seat.

The West-Saxons hewed them... Fugitives all,

Grievously with swords sharp from the grinding,

Departed then the North-men in nailed ships,

The dejected survivors of battle,

They who sought respite over deep water,

Leaving Dinges mere

Ashamed in spirit