He saw the shadowy train—
He knew the Maids of Destiny—
The Choosers of the Slain!
Like music on the breath of night
Their softened chorus came—
As bending in the wan moon’s light,
They called on Hacon’s name.
“Hero! there’s mirth in Odin’s hall,
The royal feast is spread—
Thou son of Yngvon! thee we call