Swanwich in
Dorsetshire.

and all his chieftains, with their men, and several of his
ministers, were engaged without rest or cessation against
the pagans.
How many thousand pagans fell in these num-
berless skirmishes God alone knows, over and above those
who were slain in the eight battles above-mentioned. In
the same year the Saxons made peace with the pagans, on
condition that they should take their departure, and they
did so.

...

In the year 877, the pagans, on the approach of autumn, partly settled in Exeter, and partly marched for plunder into Mercia. The number of that disorderly crew increased every day, so that, if thirty thousand of them were slain in one battle, others took their places to double the number. Then King Alfred commanded boats and galleys, i.e. long ships, to be built throughout the kingdom, in order to offer battle by sea to the enemy as they were coming. On board of these he placed seamen, and appointed them to watch the seas. Meanwhile he went himself to Exeter, where the pagans were wintering, and having shut them up within the walls, laid siege to the town. He also gave orders to his sailors to prevent them from obtaining any supplies by sea; and his sailors were encountered by a fleet of a hundred and twenty ships full of armed soldiers, who were come to help their countrymen. As soon as the king's men knew that they were fitted with pagan soldiers, they leaped to their arms, and bravely attacked those barbaric tribes; but the pagans who had now for almost a month been tossed and almost wrecked among the waves of the sea, fought vainly against them; their bands were discomfited in a moment, and all were sunk and drowned in the sea, at a place called Suanewic.

...

In the year of our Lord's incarnation 878, which was the thirtieth of king Alfred's life, the army above-mentioned left Exeter, and went to Chippenham, a royal villa, situated in the west of Wiltshire, and on the eastern bank of the

river, which is called in British, the Avon. There they wintered, and drove many of the inhabitants of that country beyond the sea by the force of their arms, and by want of the necessaries of life. They reduced almost entirely to subjection all the people of that country. . . .

...

Deverill in

Wilts.

The same year, after Easter, king Alfred, with a few followers, made for himself a stronghold in a place called Athelney, and from thence sallied with his vassals and the nobles of Somersetshire, to make frequent assaults upon the pagans. Also, in the seventh week after Easter, he rode to the stone of Egbert, which is in the eastern part of the wood Now Brixton which is called Selwood. . . . Here he was met by all the neighbouring folk of Somersetshire, and Wiltshire, and Hampshire, who had not, for fear of the pagans, fled beyond the sea; and when they saw the king alive after such great tribulation, they received him, as he deserved, with joy and acclamations, and encamped there for one night. When the following day dawned, the king struck his camp, and went to Okely, where he encamped for one night. The Probably Westbury in next morning he removed to Edington, and there fought, Wilts. bravely and perseveringly against all the army of the pagans, whom, with the divine help he defeated with great slaughter, and pursued them flying to their fortification. Immediately he slew all the men, and carried off all the booty that he could find without the fortress, which he immediately laid siege to with all his army; and when he had been there fourteen days, the pagans, driven by famine, cold, fear, and last of all by despair, asked for peace, on the condition that they should give the king as many hostages as he pleased, but should receive none of him in return, in which form they had never before made a treaty with any one. The king, hearing that, took pity upon them, and received such hostages as he chose; after which the pagans swore, moreover, that they would immediately leave the kingdom; and their king, Gothrun, promised to embrace Christianity, and re

Compare throughout with the

account in the Saxon Chronicle.

ceive baptism at king Alfred's hands. All of which articles
he and his men fulfilled as they had promised.

Asser, De Rebus Gestis Ælfredi Magni (translated by J. A. Giles,
London, 1848), 56–63.

From the SAXON CHRONICLE. See No. II. At the time Athelstan's victory over the allied Scots, Welsh, and Danes was looked upon as the hardest fight the English had ever won, and it was commemorated in

several songs. The warballad of Brunanburh found in the Chronicle is

one of the oldest and noblest of national lays. Cf. Lord Tennyson's translation.

8. The Battle of Brunanburh (937)

Here Athelstan, king,
of earls the lord,

of heroes the bracelet-giver,
and his brother eke,
Edmund etheling,
life-long-glory

in battle won

with edges of swords
near Brumby.

The board-walls they clove,
they hewed the war-lindens,

Hamora lafan'

offspring of Edward,

such was their noble nature
from their ancestors,
that they in battle oft

'gainst every foe
the land defended,
hoards and homes.
The foe they crushed,
the Scottish people
and the shipmen
fated fell.

The field 'dæniede'

with warriors' blood,

since the sun up

at morning-tide,
mighty planet,
glided o'er grounds,
God's candle bright,

the eternal Lord's,

till the noble creature sank to her settle.

There lay many a warrior,
by javelins strewed,
northern man

over shield shot;
so the Scots eke,
weary, war-sad.
West-Saxons onwards
throughout the day,
in bands,

pursued the footsteps

of the loathed nations.

They hewed the fugitives behind, amain

with swords mill-sharp Mercians refused not the hard hand-play

Sharp from the grindstone.

Anlaf or Olaf,
King of the
Northmen in
Ireland.

King of the
Scots.

of the army countless,
shipmen and Scots.

There was made flee
the North-men's chieftain

by need constrained,

to the ship's prow

with a little band.

The bark drove afloat:

the king departed

on the fallow flood,

his life preserved.

So there eke the sage

came by flight

to his country north,
Constantine,

hoary warrior,

He had no cause to exult
in the communion of swords.
Here was his kindred band

of friends o'erthrown

on the folk-stead,

in battle slain;

and his son he left
on the slaughter-place,

mangled with wounds,

young in the fight:

he had no cause to boast,
hero grizzly-haired,

of the bill-clashing,

the old deceiver;

nor Anlaf the moor,

with the remnant of their armies;

they had no cause to laugh

that they in war's works

the better men were