Hende haþeolf þat was so fre,
Bot ·ix· moneþ soiournd he,
No lenge no hadde he pes.
Out of yrlond com kinges þre,
Line 148
Her names can y telle þe,
Wele wiþ outen les:
Ferwele & Winwald were þer to,
Malkan king was on of þo,
Line 152
Proude in ich apres;
Al westmer land stroyed þay. [westmer] me over an erasure MS.]
Þe word com on a Whissonday
To king haþeolf at his des.
Line 156
He bad þe harpour leuen his lay:
'For ous bi houeþ anoþer play,
Buske armour & stede.'
He sent his sond niȝt & day
Line 160
Also fast as he may,
His folk to batayl bede;
'Bid hem, þat þai com to me,
Al þat hold her lond fre,
Line 164
Help now at þis nede;
Better manly to be slayn,
Þan long to liue in sorwe & pain,
Oȝain out londis þede.' [folio 318b:1]
Line 168
Þai busked hem wel hastily,
To com to þe kinges cri
Wiþ in elleuen niȝt,
Þat eueriche strete & eueri sty
Line 172
Glised þer þai riden by,
Of her brinis briȝt;
& seþþen to staynes more þai rode,
Þe rout was boþe long & brod,
Line 176
To fel þo fay in fiȝt;
Alle þat niȝt duelled þay,
Til amorwe þat it was day,
Þe barouns of gret miȝt.
Line 180
Þe irise ost was long & brade,
On staines more þer þai rade,
Þai ȝaf a crie for prede;
Hende haþeolf hem abade,
Line 184
Swiche meting was neuer made,
Wiþ sorwe on ich aside:
Riȝt in alitel stounde
Sexti þousand were layd to grounde
Line 188
In herd is nouȝt to hide;
King haþeolf slouȝ wiþ his hond,
Þat was comen out of yrlond,
Tvo kinges þat tide.
Line 192
King haþeolf was wel wo,
For þe irise ost was mani & mo
Wiþ scheld & wiþ spere;
Ful long seþþen man seyd so:
Line 196
When men schuld to batayl go,
To men miȝt on dere.
Þei king haþeolf fauȝt fast,
King malkan stiked attelast
Line 200
His stede þat schuld him bere:
Now schal men finde kinges fewe,
Þat in batail be so trewe,
His lond forto were.
Line 204
When king haþeolf on fot stode,
Þe yrise folk about him ȝode,
As hondes do to bare;
Whom he hit opon þe hode,
Line 208
Were he neuer kniȝt so gode,
He ȝaue a dint wel sare;
He brouȝt in alitel stounde
Wele fif þousende to grounde [folio 318b:2]
Wiþ his grimly gare.
Line 213
Þe Irise ost tok hem to red,
To ston þat douhti kniȝt to ded,
Þai durst neiȝe him na mare. [neiȝe] i above line MS.]
Line 216
Gret diol it was to se
Of hende haþeolf þat was so fre,
Stones to him þai cast;
Þai brak him boþe legge & kne,
Line 220
Gret diol it was to se,
He kneled attelast.
King malcan wiþ wretþe out stert
& smot king haþeolf to þe hert;
Line 224
He held his wepen so fast,
Þat king malkan smot his arm atvo,
Er he miȝt gete his swerd him fro,
For nede his hert tobrast.
Line 228
Þo king malkan wan þe priis,
Oway brouȝt he no mo ywis,
Of his men bot þritten,
