The wick-stead the wealthy of them, the Wægmundings,
And the folk-rights each one which his father had owned.
Then he might not withhold him, his hand gripp'd the round,
Yellow linden; he tugg'd out withal the old sword,
That was known among men for the heirloom of Eanmund,
Ohthere's son, unto whom in the strife did become,
To the exile unfriended, Weohstan for the bane
With the sword-edge, and unto his kinsmen bare off
The helm the brown-brindled, the byrny beringed,
And the old eoten-sword that erst Onela gave him;