Mec gesette soð sigora waldend
Crist to compe. Oft ic cwice bærne,
unrimu cyn eorþan getenge,
næte mid niþe, swa ic him no hrine,
5 þonne mec min frea feohtan hateþ.
Hwilum ic monigra mod arete,
hwilum ic frefre þa ic ær winne on
feorran swiþe; hi þæs felað þeah,
swylce þæs oþres, þonne ic eft hyra
10 ofer deop gedreag drohtað bete.
Christ, the true ruler of victories, placed me
in battle. Often I burn the living,
uncounted peoples I oppress upon the earth,
crush them cruelly, when my lord
5 commands me to fight, but I do not touch them.
Sometimes I comfort the mind of many,
sometimes I console those whom I earlier struggled against
from very far away; although they feel it,
just like that other time, when I again
10 improve their way of life above deep tumult.
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