Hwaet! We Gesithas thrym gefrunon
eorla eadig weorthful Eadmond
hu thaet hlaford ellen fremedon.
Wuldres Wealdend woroldare forgeaf
haele hildedeor thaet was god gesith.
Paul was a proud and princely leader
the bold battle-boss commanded bravely
skilled with sword, spear and bow.
Worthy of renown, the wise word-smith,
a good companion generous with gifts.
He loved his Lord, the Creator of Life,
served his saviour and his fellow man.
Very vigorous man he left us valiantly
one final fight that fateful day
he went joyful to the jousting,
spurred his steed, the stout stallion,
champions charged, hooves churned turf,
the smash of weapons spear met shield.
Lances burst, the battle-boughs broke,
splintered asunder, slivers flew in swarms;
one stung the eye of stalwart Paul
and struck him down, a sudden doom.
Healers hurried to help the wounded one,
a whirling wind announced arrival
of the spinning eagle which whisked him away.
He fought the festering foul injury,
a week of waiting by wife and kin
but followed the call of Christ to heaven
ended earth’s exile and hurried home.
He feasts in that festive far-off paradise
cheered by company of those gone before
waiting and watching the weary remnant
as we weep and remember and celebrate his life.