What! We of Goredanes' in days of yore, Of theedkings' thrim heard in our lore, How the athelings ellen bore. Oft Shield Sheaving from foeband's stead From many maiths, meadsettles led, Left earls in awe. Since erst was poor Feeshaft foundling, he fared to more, Waxed under welkins, in worthy labours, Till ever each and all his neighbours, Over whaleroad, a-hearing should, Yield him tribute. That king was good! Afterwards for him, an heir was meant Youngling in yards, God hither sent To folk as frover, feeling their sore, That they lordless, a long time bore. The Lord of Life lent to his name, Woulder's Wieldend, worldwide fame. Beewolf was bream, broad glory spanned For Shield's son in the Scandian land. So shall a young gome by good fare With fair feegifts, in father's care, That in his eld, again those stand Wellwilling friends, when war's at hand The people last. From lovedeeds, so, In every maith, shall man grow. Then Shield went forth at fated tide From a full life to the lord's side. They bore him then to the sea's blue His sweet friends, as he bade them do When he wielded words, Shieldings' lief, That long owned the land, leader and chief. At harbour stood a ringedstem rare Icey and outfouse, atheling's fare. Then they laid down their theeden blessed The lord of rings, in that ship's breast; Mear one by mast. Many mathoms got From farways, many fortunes brought. I heard not dearer keel, dight in deed, With hildweapons and battleweed, With bills and byrnies. On his barm Should go with him many a charm, On the flood's flow, afar to fare. They bestowed not less treasures rare Theedstrains, than those before lent, That him at fromshaft forth asent, One over waves, bairn on the brine. Then yet for him, set a golden sign High over head. Let the holm heave Gave to goresedge, with yomer seave With mourning mood. No men may, In truth tell us, with knowledge say, Counsellors in halls, sages soothfast, Haleths under heaven, who found that last. |