Hildeburhʼs Lament XI

The truce came late.
With only few of Finnʼs
Faithful hearththanes
He could not win against
The wall of Hengest.
The woeremnant offered
Weary frithterms.
They’d give up the hall
And high seatʼs control
If Folcwaldʼs son
Favour at treasure giving
The Remnant warriors
With rings and wealth
As he treats the Frisians
Freely and honourably.
So fragile peace,
Forced by circumstance,
Was settled by both
by swearing of bloodoaths.
Highhelmed Hengest,
Hnæf ’s shieldthane,
Took the peaceoath,
Over the prince’s
Battle stained
Sword and byrnie,
While Finn swore on
Our sonʼs war shield.
Both sides promised
Their pledge to hold.
Never to break truce,
Nor let tongues wag,
Though they follow their foe,
Forced by circumstance,
Their ring giverʼs bane,
Bearing dishonour.
If any Frisian remind them
Of murder or hostility,
He soon would see
A sword edged end.
Pyres were built for
Both my precious ones;
Two close kinsmen
On the killingfield slain,
Together in Wyrdʼs
Grievous war doom.
In eternal sleep
The twain were laid
With glittering goldhoard
And glinting weapons,
Upon beech and birch wood.
Then, bitter torches,
Greedy funeral flames
furiously devoured,
As the cruel slaughter fire
Curled to the skies.
And I sang their lament
Mourning my dear ones —
My flesh and blood —
Burning in the flames.


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