LA BATAILLE DE MALDON

L'auteur, dans son premier chapitre, rapproche cette ballade anglo-saxonne d'un passage de Tacite sur le compagnonnage militaire des Germains.

Nous transcrivons ici le texte que nous annoncions au lecteur en le traduisant à la page 47.

Thereon liewed him

The heathen soldiers ;

And both the warriors

Tliat near him by-stood ;

iElfnoth and Wulfmœr both

Lay there on the ground

By their lord ;

Their lives they sold.

There bowed they from the flght

That there to be would not.

There were Odda's bairns Erst in flight; Godric from battle went, And the good man forsook That to him ofttimes Horses had given.

Ud leapl on the horse Tliat bis lord liad owned, On tbe liousings Tliat it nut rijilit «vas.

T II ère was fa lien The folk's Elder, .Etbelred's Earl ; AU thare lt« Of his heartli's comradea Tint tueïr lord lay dead.

Then tbere ment fortli Tlie proud T ha ries, The undaunted men Haute ned gladly ; fliey would there al) One of two thingi.

Eilher life forsake, Or the loved one wreak.

Nelther on tliat folk Sliall the Thanes twil me Tliat I from this hoM Away would go To seek my home.

Voir mine Elder lie l li Hewn down in battle ; To me is tliat harm most :

He was both my kinsrotii And my lord.

How thou, ^Ifwine, liait Ail oui' Thunes fn need-tîme cheered.

Nowour lord lieth, Tbe Earl on the earth, l'hit of us each one Otbers slionld embolden Warmen to the war, That while we weapon9 m

Hâve and hold The hard falchion Spear and good sword,

I this promise That I hence nill Flee a footstep, But will further go, To wreak in the fight My lord and comrade.

Nor by Stourmere Any steadfast hero With words need twit me That I lordless Homeward should go, And wend from the fight.

Rath was in battle Offa hewn down, Yet had he furthered That liis lord had pledged, As he ère agreed With his ring-giver That they should both To the borough ride Haie to home, Or in the host cringe On the slaughter place, Of their wounds die.

He lay Thane-like His lord hard by.

Mind shall the harder be, Heart shall the keener be, Mood shall the more be, As our main lessens.

Hère lies our Elder,

Ail clown hewn,

A good man in the dust ;

Ever may he groan

Who now from tins war-play

Of wending thinketli.

I am old of life ;

Hance stir will I not,

And I by tlie half

Of my lord,

By such a loved man

To lie am thinking.