With true Homeric fervour the poet describes the incidents of the battle that followed. Brihtnoth was wounded early in the fight by the spear of a Viking, but succeeded in giving his antagonist a death-wound by his javelin.
Blithe was then the chieftain,
Laughed the moody man: “I thank Thee, Lord of heaven,
For this glorious day’s work Thou to me hast given”.
Soon, however, he received another more deadly wound from a Norse arrow, and though for a little space he still fought on, ere long “to earth fell the golden-hilted sword, nor might he longer hold the hard knife or wield the well-loved weapon”. But still the hoary warrior bade the youths fight on and show a bold front to the foe, and as he lay he looked toward heaven and said:—
Thankful I remember, Lord of Nations,
All the joys I in this world have tasted.
Now this one thing do I crave in dying
From Thy hands, O merciful Creator!—
That Thy grace be on my parting spirit,