Brunanburh

Our lord of warriors eternal glory won
 By the sword's edge at Brunanburh
 Smashed the shield-wall
 And drove them from the land
 The enemy doomed they fell
 And the field was dark with blood
 Shot with spears, the crushed assailants fled
 In revenge we rode them down
 And the vanquished took to sea
 Edward's sons victorious in war
 Made mountains of the slain
 And the wolves and crows did feast
 Great slaughter made and the fields of Britain tamed
 Lord of the fyrd, he fared north and he held his sway
 Mastery claimed and the hearts of the beaten shamed
 Engla Cyning - Rex Totius Britaniae!
 Legend made at Brunanburh
 Mighty victory has no name
 In the shadow of Senlac's fame
 Words that glorify on a withered page
 Lost in the myth of a dark age
 Ne wearð wæl mare
 On þis eiglande æfre gieta
 Folces gefylled beforan þissum
 Sweordes ecgum, þæs þe us secgað bec
 Ealde uðwitan, siþþan eastan hider
 Engle and Seaxe up becoman
 Ofer brad brimu Brytene sohtan
 Wlance wigsmiþas, Wealas ofercoman
 orlas arhwate, eard begeatan