’Mong household companions, her husband excepted Dared to adventure to look at the woman With eyes in the daytime; but he knew that death-chains Hand-wreathed were wrought him: early thereafter, When the hand-strife was over, edges were ready, That fierce-raging sword-point had to force a decision, Murder-bale show. Such no womanly custom For a lady to practise, though lovely her person, That a weaver-of-peace, on pretence of anger A belovèd liegeman of life should deprive. Soothly this hindered Heming’s kinsman; Other ale-drinking earlmen asserted That fearful folk-sorrows fewer she wrought them, Treacherous doings, since first she was given Adorned with gold to the war-hero youthful, For her origin honored, when Offa’s great palace O’er the fallow flood by her father’s instructions She sought on her journey, where she afterwards fully, Famed for her virtue, her fate on the king’s-seat Enjoyed in her lifetime, love did she hold with The ruler of heroes, the best, it is told me, Of all of the earthmen that oceans encompass, Of earl-kindreds endless; hence Offa was famous Far and widely, by gifts and by battles,