Were few, soon said, and out with swords!
One saw his heart cut from his side
Living—and smiled, and smiling, died,
The unconquerable Norseman!
Still in our race the Norse king reigns,
His best blood beats along our veins;
With his old glory we can glow,
And surely sail where he could row.
Is danger stirring? Up from sleep
Our war-dog wakes the watch to keep,