The verse celebrating Athelstan and Edmund's victory at Brunanburh appears in manuscripts A, B, C and D of the 'Anglo-Saxon Chronicle'.

It seems likely that it was an existing work, pressed into service by the compiler of the 'Chronicle' - the word "Her" (the conventional way of beginning an annal; often translated as "In this year") simply being added at the beginning.

The verse follows, with a line by line, literal, translation into modern English. Following that, however, is the interpretation by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-92), which preserves the spirit of the original composition.

The Battle of Brunanburh

Her Æþelstan cyning,  eorla dryhten,
Here King Athelstan, Lord of earls,
beorna beahgifa,  7 his broþor eac,
ring-giver of men, and his brother also,
Eadmund æþeling,  ealdorlangne tir
the ætheling Edmund, life-long glory
geslogon æt sæcce  sweorda ecgum
they won in battle, with sword edges
ymbe Brunanburh.  Bordweal clufan,
around Brunanburh. The shield-wall they split,
heowan heaþolinde  hamora lafan,
hewed the war-lime with hammers' leavings.
afaran Eadweardes,  swa him geæþele wæs
The sons of Edward, it was only befitting their noble descent
from cneomægum,  þæt hi æt campe oft
from their ancestors, that they in battle often,
wiþ laþra gehwæne  land ealgodon,
against hostile ones, their land defend,
hord 7 hamas.  Hettend crungun,
hoard and home. The enemy perished,
Sceotta leoda  7 scipflotan
Scots men and seamen,
fæge feollan,  feld dunnade
fated they fell. The field flowed
secga swate,  siðþan sunne up
with men's blood, since sun up
on morgentid,  mære tungol,
in the morning, when the glorious star
glad ofer grundas,  godes condel beorht,
glided over the earth, God's bright candle,
eces Drihtnes,  oð sio æþele gesceaft
eternal lord, till that noble creation
sah to setle.  þær læg secg mænig
sank to rest. There lay many a man
garum ageted,  guma norþerna
by spears destroyed; Northern men
ofer scild scoten,  swilce Scittisc eac,
shot over shield, likewise Scottish also,
werig, wiges sæd.  Wesseaxe forð
weary, war sated. The West-Saxons advanced
ondlongne dæg  eorodcistum
all day long; in troops
on last legdun  laþum þeodum,
they pursued the hostile people.
heowan herefleman  hindan þearle
They hewed the fugitive from behind grievously
mecum mylenscearpan.  Myrce ne wyrndon
with swords sharp from the grinding. The Mercians did not refuse
heardes hondplegan  hæleþa nanum
hard hand-play to any warrior
þæra þe mid Anlafe  ofer eargebland
who came with Olaf, over sea-surge
on lides bosme  land gesohtun,
in the bosom of a ship, those who sought land,
fæge to gefeohte.  Fife lægun
fated to fight. Five lay dead
on þam campstede  cyningas giunge,
on the battle-field, young kings,
sweordum aswefede,  swilce seofene eac
by swords put to sleep, likewise seven also
eorlas Anlafes,  unrim heriges,
of Olaf's earls, countless of the army,
flotena 7 Sceotta.  þær geflemed wearð
sailors and Scots. There took to flight
Norðmanna bregu,  nede gebeded,
the North-men's chief, by need compelled
to lides stefne  litle weorode;
to prow of ship with little company:
cread cnear on flot,  cyning ut gewat
he pressed the ship afloat, the king went out
on fealene flod,  feorh generede.
on the dusky flood-tide, he saved his life.
Swilce þær eac se froda  mid fleame com
Likewise, there also the old campaigner, through flight came
on his cyþþe norð,  Costontinus,
to his own region in the north - Constantine -
har hildering,  hreman ne þorfte
hoary warrior. He had no reason to exult
mecga gemanan;  he wæs his mæga sceard,
the meeting of blades; he was of his kinsmen bereft,
freonda befylled  on folcstede,
friends fell on the battle-field,
beslagen æt sæcce,  7 his sunu forlet
killed at strife: and his son he left,
on wælstowe  wundun forgrunden,
in the place of slaughter, with wounds ground to pieces,
giungne æt guðe.  Gelpan ne þorfte
young in battle. To boast he had no reason,
beorn blandenfeax  bilgeslehtes,
the grizzle-haired warrior, of the clashing of swords,
eald inwidda,  ne Anlaf þy ma;
old deceitful one, no more did Olaf;
mid heora herelafum  hlehhan ne þorftun
with their remnant of an army, to laugh they had no reason,
þæt heo beaduweorca  beteran wurdun
that they in deeds of war were better
on campstede  cumbolgehnastes,
on the battle-field - collision of banners,
garmittinge,  gumena gemotes,
meeting of spears, encounter of men,
wæpengewrixles,  þæs hi on wælfelda
exchange of weapons - when on the field of slaughter
wiþ Eadweardes  afaran plegodan.
with Edward's sons they played.
Gewitan him þa Norþmen  nægledcnearrum,
Departed then the Northmen in nailed ships.
dreorig daraða laf,  on Dinges mere
The dejected survivors of darts, on Dinges mere
ofer deop wæter  Difelin secan,
over deep water Dublin they sought,
7 eft Iraland,  æwiscmode.
and back to Ireland, ashamed in spirit.
Swilce þa gebroþer  begen ætsamne,
Likewise the brothers, both together,
cyning 7 æþeling,  cyþþe sohton,
King and ætheling, home sought,
Wesseaxena land,  wiges hremge.
West-Saxon land, from battle exultant.
Letan him behindan  hræw bryttian
They left behind them, corpses to divide,
saluwigpadan,  þone sweartan hræfn,
the dark coated one, the black raven,
hyrnednebban,  7 þane hasupadan,
horny-beaked and grey-coated one,
earn æftan hwit,  æses brucan,
the eagle white behind, carrion to enjoy,
grædigne guðhafoc  7 þæt græge deor,
greedy war-hawk, and that grey beast,
wulf on wealde.  Ne wearð wæl mare
the wolf in the forest. Never was there more slaughter
on þis eiglande  æfre gieta
on this island, never yet as many
folces gefylled  beforan þissum
people killed before this
sweordes ecgum,  þæs þe us secgað bec,
with sword's edge, those who tell us from books,
ealde uðwitan,  siþþan eastan hider
old wisemen, since hither from the east
Engle 7 Seaxe  up becoman,
Angles and Saxons came up
ofer brad brimu  Brytene sohtan,
over the broad sea. Britain they sought,
wlance wigsmiþas,  Wealas ofercoman,
proud war-smiths, the Welsh they overcame,
eorlas arhwate  eard begeatan.
warriors eager for glory, the country they seized.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson's interpretation:

Athelstan King,
Lord among Earls,
Bracelet-bestower and
Baron of Barons,
He with his Brother,
Edmund Atheling,
Gaining a lifelong
Glory in battle,
Slew with the sword-edge
There by Brunanburh,
Brake the shield-wall,
Hew'd the linden-wood,
Hack'd the battle-shield,
Sons of Edward with hammer'd brands.

Theirs was a greatness
Got from their grand-sires -
Theirs that so often in
Strife with their enemies
Struck for their hoards and their hearths
and their homes.

Bow'd the spoiler,
Bent the Scotsman,
Fell the ship-crews
Doom'd to the death.
All the field with blood of the fighters
Flow'd, from when the first the great
Sun-star of morning-tide,
Lamp of the Lord God
Lord everlasting,
Glode over earth till the glorious creature
Sank to his setting.
There lay many a man
Marr'd by the javelin,
Men of the Northland
Shot over shield.
There was the Scotsman
Weary of war.

We the West-Saxons,
Long as the daylight
Lasted, in companies
Troubled the track of
the host that we hated;
Grimly with swords that were sharp
from the grindstone,
Fiercely we hack'd at the flyers before us.

Mighty the Mercian,
Hard was his hand-play,
Sparing not any of
Those that with Anlaf,
Warriors over the
Weltering waters
Borne in the bark's-bosom
Drew to this island -
Doom'd to the death.

Five young kings put asleep by the sword-stroke,
Seven strong earls of the army of Anlaf
Fell on the war-field, numberless numbers,
Shipmen and Scotsmen.

Then the Norse leader -
Dire was his need of it,
Few were his following -
Fled to his war-ship;
Fleeted his vessel to sea with the king in it,
Saving his life on the fallow flood.

Also the crafty one,
Constantinus,
Crept to his North again,
Hoar-headed hero!

Slender warrant had
He to be proud of
The welcome of war-knives -
He that was reft of his
Folk and his friends that had
Fallen in conflict,
Leaving his son too
Lost in the carnage,
Mangled to morsels,
A youngster in war!

Slender reason had
He to be glad of
The clash of the war-glaive -
Traitor and trickster
And spurner of treaties -
He nor had Anlaf
With armies so broken
A reason for bragging
That they had the better
In perils of battle
On places of slaughter -
The struggle of standards,
The rush of the javelins,
The crash of the charges,
The wielding of weapons -
The play that they play'd with
The children of Edward.

Then with their nail'd prow
Parted the Norsemen, a
Blood-redden'd relic of
Javelins over
The jarring breaker, the deep-sea billow,
Shaping their way toward Dyflen again,
Shamed in their souls.

Also the brethren,
King and Atheling,
Each in his glory,
Went to his own in his own West-Saxonland,
Glad of the war.

Many a carcase they left to be carrion,
Many a livid one, many a sallow-skin -
Left for the white-tail'd eagle to tear it, and
Left for the horny-nibb'd raven to rend it, and
Gave to the garbaging war-hawk to gorge it, and
That gray beast, the wolf of the weald.

Never had huger
Slaughter of heroes
Slain by the sword edge -
Such as old writers
Have writ of in histories -
Hapt in this isle, since
Up from the East hither
Saxon and Angle from
Over the broad billow
Broke into Britain with
Haughty war-workers who
Harried the Welshman, when
Earls that were lured by the
Hunger of glory gat
Hold of the land.