The son of Weohstan was Wiglaf entitled, Shield-warrior precious, prince of the Scylfings, Aelfhere’s kinsman: he saw his dear liegelord Enduring the heat ’neath helmet and visor. Then he minded the holding that erst he had given him, The Waegmunding warriors’ wealth-blessèd homestead, Each of the folk-rights his father had wielded; He was hot for the battle, his hand seized the target, The yellow-bark shield, he unsheathed his old weapon, Which was known among earthmen as the relic of Eanmund, Ohthere’s offspring, whom, exiled and friendless, Weohstan did slay with sword-edge in battle, And carried his kinsman the clear-shining helmet, The ring-made burnie, the old giant-weapon That Onela gave him, his boon-fellow’s armor, Ready war-trappings: he the feud did not mention, Though he’d fatally smitten the son of his brother. Many a half-year held he the treasures, The bill and the burnie, till his bairn became able, Like his father before him, fame-deeds to ’complish; Then he gave him ’mong Geatmen a goodly array of Weeds for his warfare; he went from life then Old on his journey. ’Twas the earliest time then That the youthful champion might charge in the battle