“It well may discomfit the prince of the Heathobards And each of the thanemen of earls that attend him, When he goes to the building escorting the woman, That a noble-born Daneman the knights should be feasting: There gleam on his person the leavings of elders Hard and ring-bright, Heathobards’ treasure, While they wielded their arms, till they misled to the battle Their own dear lives and belovèd companions. He saith at the banquet who the collar beholdeth, An ancient ash-warrior who earlmen’s destruction Clearly recalleth (cruel his spirit), Sadly beginneth sounding the youthful Thane-champion’s spirit through the thoughts of his bosom, War-grief to waken, and this word-answer speaketh: ‘Art thou able, my friend, to know when thou seest it The brand which thy father bare to the conflict In his latest adventure, ’neath visor of helmet, The dearly-loved iron, where Danemen did slay him, And brave-mooded Scyldings, on the fall of the heroes, (When vengeance was sleeping) the slaughter-place wielded?