Seoþeð swearta leg synne on fordonum,
ond goldfrætwe gleda forswelgað,
eall ærgestreon eþelcyninga.
Ðær bið cirm ond cearu, ond cwicra gewin,
gehreow ond hlud wop bi heofonwoman,
earmlic ælda gedreag. Þonan ænig ne mæg,
firendædum fah, frið gewinnan,
legbryne losian londes ower,
ac þæt fyr nimeð þurh foldan gehwæt,
græfeð grimlice, georne aseceð
innan ond utan eorðan sceatas,
oþþæt eall hafað ældes leoma
woruldwidles wom wælme forbærned.
Ðonne mihtig god on þone mæran beorg
mid þy mæstan mægenþrymme cymeð,
heofonengla cyning, halig scineð,
wuldorlic ofer weredum, waldende god,
ond hine ymbutan æþelduguð betast,
halge herefeðan, hlutre blicað,
eadig engla gedryht. Ingeþoncum
forhte beofiað fore fæder egsan.[1]
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The black flame will seethe sins among the corrupted,
And hot coals will devour gold ornaments,
All ancient wealth of worldly kings.
There will be uproar and grief, strife of the living,
Lamenting and wailing at the sound of heav’n:
Men’s wretched din. Thenceforth anyone
Stained by their sins cannot win peace,
Nor escape the firestorm across the land,
And that fire takes all throughout earth’s folds,
Cruelly carves out, eagerly seeks out,
Inside and outside earth’s projections,
Until the tongue of flame has swallowed all
Sounds of world-blight in its torrent.
Then mighty God upon that famed mountain
By means of that most great power will come,
Heav’n-angels’ king will shine holy,
Glorious beyond men, powerful God,
And about Him the noblest host,
A holy troop, will shine brightly,
A true angel-host. In their inner thoughts
They quake fearfully before the dread Father.
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