The bracteates and jewels, from the bright-shining city,[1]
Eormenric’s cunning craftiness fled from,
Chose gain everlasting. Geatish Higelac,
Grandson of Swerting, last had this jewel
When tramping ’neath banner the treasure he guarded,
The field-spoil defended; Fate offcarried him
When for deeds of daring he endured tribulation,
Hate from the Frisians; the ornaments bare he
O’er the cup of the currents, costly gem-treasures,
Mighty folk-leader, he fell ’neath his target;