Classic Poem

. . . heard him gladly.
" Weland's work surely can never weaken
For any man who can hold the hard blade,
Wield the sword, Mimming. Often in war
Wounded and bloody man after man
Fell in the fray. Now let not thy strength,
Soldier of Attila, or thy valor fail.
" Now the day has come when thou shalt accomplish
One of two: either lose thy life,
Or win long fame, O Ælfhere's son,
Among all mankind. Not at all, my beloved,
Can I say that ever in play of swords
I saw you shamefully shun the battle,
Or turn to the wall to protect your life,
Though many a hard blade hacked at your byrny.
But always further you forced the fighting
Time beyond measure; I feared for your fate
Lest all too boldly you pressed to the battle,
The bloody encounter in clash of war.
" Now honor your name with deeds of note
While God is gracious and grants you strength.
Fear not for the blade! The best of weapons
Was surely given to save us both.
With its edge you shall beat down Guthhere's boast
Who wickedly started this bitter strife,
Refused the sword, and the shining casket,
And wealth of jewels. With never a gem
He shall leave the battle, return to his lord,
His ancient homeland, or here shall he sleep