Men of the Anglians Brought, then, the bier, bare the dear hero, Atheling of earlmen, off from the field Where low he was lying. They quickly lifted him, And laid him away where the wolf and the raven And the dewy-winged eagle not ever might touch him, Where the birds of the battle and beasts of the carnage Might never annoy him, noble, distinguished Earlman, atheling. The excellent hero Must climb on the pyre to the clutch of the fire, Must hence to Valhalla. As their lord when alive delighted to gaze on, Or bear to the battle. Ate them greedily, gulping, swallowing them, Hungriest of heroes.
Honor attend thee In Valhalla, the heaven of heroes and warriors And all good athelings.
Thy earlmen will ever Remember thy mighty muscle and valor And deeds of great daring. They sadly, proudly piled it heavenward, Mournful, exultant, till upward there rose a Memorial mound-hill, to mark and to honor The passing of Horsa, prince of the vikings, Who had laid down his life for liegemen and kinsmen. They with flint faced it, that, firm on the summit, It stout and strong might stand on the hill-top For ever and aye. The gods had given them. A many of jewels Bright and beautiful, bracelets, collars, Brooches and rings, richest of treasures, Were brought to the barrow.