The hoar war-hero was unable to boast
Of attendance of men; he was robbed of his kinsmen, 40
Bereaved of his friends on the battle-field,
Conquered in fight, and he left his son
On the place of slaughter wasted with wounds,
The boy in the battle. He durst not boast,
The gray-haired warrior, of the clash of swords, 45
The agèd enemy, nor Anlaf the more.
With their army-remnant they durst not rejoice
That in deeds of war they proved to be better
On the place of battle, the striking of standards,
The mingling of spears, the meeting of men, 50
The clashing of weapons, when on slaughter-field
In contest with Edward's sons they contended.
Departed the Northmen in nailèd ships,
Drear remnant of darts, on the sea of Dyng[5][?],
O'er the water deep Dublin to seek, 55
Back to land of the Erse, depressed in mind.
Likewise the brothers both together,
King and ætheling, were seeking their home,
West-Saxons' land, exulting in war.
Behind them they let the corpses share 60
The dark-feathered fowl, the raven black,
The crooked-beaked, and the ashy-feathered,
White-tailed eagle enjoy the prey,
The greedy war-hawk, and the gray-clad beast,
The wolf in the wood. More corpses there wére not 65
Upon this island ever as yet
Of folk down-felled before this time
With edges of sword, as books to us tell,