The Sword

	You are very long and very shapely,

	by God, sword, along the thigh.

	Your blade will not permit (bold splendid lord)

4	shame to its bedfellow.

	I keep you on my right–hand side,

	may God preserve your keeper.

	My toy, you are bright,

8	I am a master and you are my strength.

	My darling's husband does not like it that I am alive,

	strong his obstruction, craftsman of trickery,

	a silent man, infamous and base,

12	copious his evil, [with] a foolish frown like an ox.

	Sometimes he's silent (a good portent)

	and sometimes he threatens me.

	While I own you (strong lord of passion)

16	despite his threat (solid weapon)

	[may there be] coldness above his bed.

	And may your master burn if he should flee

	either on a horse (ignoble thought)

20	or on foot because of that man there,

	unless he causes me (because of two words of anger)

	a punishment in your day, thing hateful to Eiddig.

	A battle–striking to put an enemy to flight,

24	Cyrseus, shearer of a man's lips,

	you are [the] finest rod [for a] hand;

	you're bereft of rust, you're flint.

	Rewarder of battle–crows, flowing interweaving pattern of war,

28	let the men of Deira retreat, two–edged hard object.

	The blade of a fiery–lightning belt,

	I'll keep you in your house of lattice.

	You like slashing against an enemy of mine,

32	fair, bright, sharp, grooved sword.

	Powerful sharp weapon, this is my golden creed,

	where I give you a hand and licence:

	lest some night–kite

36	should hinder us in a grove's castle,

	(a lad's pride from a child pen)

	run, steel, like a wheel of fire.

	Don't hide (Cuhelyn's shield)

40	on my hand if the man comes.

	You are a brave wheel (radiant blows)

	of war, my steel.

	This keeps me from villains,

44	fastest sword, Hauteclere's descendant.

	I'll be an outlaw on a long watch

	under the trees, me and my modest girl.

	It's not churlish to be an outlaw

48	if the girl asks, not from love of wealth.

	Some of the kin will declare me not guilty,

	my trail is thick by my darling's house.

	I'm not a retreater, I am Ovid,

52	a lover's heart is always noble.