It lies on my shoulder as ’twas left me by Ælfhere,
Goodly and gorgeous and gold-bedecked,
20 The most honorable of all for an atheling to hold
When he goes into battle to guard his life,
To fight with his foes: fail me it will never
When a stranger band shall strive to encounter me,
Besiege me with swords, as thou soughtest to do.
25 He alone will vouchsafe the victory who always
Is eager and ready to aid every right:
He who hopes for the help of the holy Lord,