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Древнеанглийская поэзия БИТВА ПРИ БРУНАНБУРГЕ
In this year King Aethelstan, Lord of warriors, ring-giver to men, and his brother also, Prince Eadmund, won eternal glory in battle with sword edges around Brunanburh. They split the shield-wall, they hewed battle shields with the remnants of hammers. The sons of Eadweard, it was only befitting their noble descent from their ancestors that they should often defend their land in battle against each hostile people, horde and home. The enemy perished, Scots men and seamen, fated they fell. The field flowed with blood of warriors, from sun up in the morning, when the glorious star glided over the earth, God's bright candle, eternal lord, till that noble creation sank to its seat. There lay many a warrior by spears destroyed; Northern men shot over shield, likewise Scottish as well, weary, war sated. The West-Saxons pushed onward all day; in troops they pursued the hostile people. They hewed the fugitive grievously from behind with swords sharp from the grinding. The Mercians did not refuse hard hand-play to any warrior who came with Anlaf over the sea-surge in the bosom of a ship, those who sought land, fated to fight. Five lay dead on the battle-field, young kings, put to sleep by swords, likewise also seven of Anlaf's earls, countless of the army, sailors and Scots. There the North-men's chief was put to flight, by need constrained to the prow of a ship with little company: he pressed the ship afloat, the king went out on the dusky flood-tide, he saved his life. Likewise, there also the old campaigner through flight came to his own region in the north-- Constantine -- hoary warrior. He had no reason to exult the great meeting; he was of his kinsmen bereft, friends fell on the battle-field, killed at strife: even his son, young in battle, he left in the place of slaughter, ground to pieces with wounds. That grizzle-haired warrior had no reason to boast of sword-slaughter, old deceitful one, no more did Anlaf; with their remnant of an army they had no reason to laugh that they were better in deed of war in battle-field--collision of banners, encounter of spears, encounter of men, trading of blows--when they played against the sons of Eadweard on the battle field. Departed then the Northmen in nailed ships. The dejected survivors of the battle, sought Dublin over the deep water, leaving Dinges mere to return to Ireland , ashamed in spirit. Likewise the brothers, both together, King and Prince, sought their home, West-Saxon land, exultant from battle. They left behind them, to enjoy the corpses, the dark coated one, the dark horny-beaked raven and the dusky-coated one, the eagle white from behind, to partake of carrion, greedy war-hawk, and that gray animal the wolf in the forest. Never was there more slaughter on this island, never yet as many people killed before this with sword's edge: never according to those who tell us from books, old wisemen, since from the east Angles and Saxons came up over the broad sea. Britain they sought, Proud war-smiths who overcame the Welsh, glorious warriors they took hold of the land.
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