Crept to his kinsmen, Constantinus,
The hoary war-hero; for him was small need
40 To boast of the battle-play; the best of his kinsmen
And friends had fallen on the field of battle,
Slain at the strife, and his son left behind
On the field of fight, felled and wounded,
Young at the battle. No boast dared he make
45 Of strife and of sword-play, the silver-haired leader,
Full of age and of evil, nor had Anlaf the more.
With their vanquished survivors no vaunt could they make