Hwilum hildedeor blædhorn wynne grette

holme's scroll text behind the cut.

Hwæt we Gar-folca in geardagum ðeodcyninga ðrym gefrunon Hu ða æðelingas ellen fremedon. Hwæt, we have heard of the Spear-folk, How those princes, the people-kings, In past-days performed great deeds And how in those time there came a queen of legend

Đa cwom Mærwynn forð swa cwen Calontires Then came Mærwynn forth as Calontir’s queen The elf-shining lady approached with keen thought She was well-traveled in the earth’s wide lands She ran the woods with stags and rose high on falcon’s wings And more than Calontir included her amongst their kin

Hwilum hildedeor blædhorn wynne grette At times the battle-bold one grasped the trumpet with joy And filled the halls with flowing heart-songs To make the mighty on mead-benches weep And then lift their souls soaring with sparrow’s songs At other times she with warp and weft wove cloth That she then used to clothe those around her She took wrack-stained clothes and wove new garments For lords and thegns and kings and ceorls

Seo gestrynde snyttro cræft þurh fyrngewrito gefrigen Heoldon higeþancum hæleða rædas She acquired wisdom through ancient writings That preserved memories of mankind’s knowledge The regard of her craft was such that she was given wreaths And from far and near folk came seeking her guidance

And when spear-proud princes of wide lands Came striding steel-clad and strong Into the high soaring halls of Calontir This queen came gliding in glittering array To give these æðelings their gift cup saying Onfoh þissum fulle, freodrihten min “Accept now this cup noble lord”

Seo wæs rumheort mid mearum ond maþmum, She was generous with gifts and horses Many were the high-folk who held her rings And wore them proudly as priceless gifts

And then in those raven-thirsting times She marched mighty before mail-warded hosts Ne hyrdan meahte man sið ne aer on egstreame idese lædan on merestræte mægen fægerre One might neither before nor since have heard of A fair queen leading a finer looking force On the sea-tide of the swan-road

But now in the time of Ariel and Martino We can only recall this royal heart and ask: Hwær cwom maððumgyfe Hwær cwom bunegyfe Where now the ring-giver Where now the cup-giver For We would send her to wyrd with gold and gifts Woven suits of mail and water-stained swords Steel faced helms studded with boar shapes And bowls and buckles and bright rings and cups That her mind-song shall burn brightly for her bold souls We name her royal-kin now and forever She in the old language shall be Hlæfdige In the tongue of today’s heroes, a Countess Thus We bring joy to joyful-named memory And say about this rose-heart Đat wæs god cwen Here in Our court held in Our lofty hall On the XXVIIIth rising of Hreðmonað In the XLIIIrd year of Our society