Nú on théostrum licgeth Théodred se léofa
Now dear Theodred lies in darkness,
hæ´letha holdost.
most loyal of fighters.
ne sceal hearpan sweg wigend weccean;
The sound of the harp shall not wake the warrior;
ne winfæ´t gylden guma sceal healdan,
nor shall the man hold a golden wine-cup,
ne god hafoc geond sæ´l swingan,
nor good hawk swing through the hall,
ne se swifta mearh burhstede beatan.
nor the swift horse stamp in the courtyard.
Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended1
An evil death has set forth the noble warrior
giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende
A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels
on Meduselde thæt he ma no wære
in Meduseld that he is no more,
his dryhtne dyrest and maga deorost.
to his lord dearest and kinsmen most beloved.