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