"Bring for my drinking
The horn with wine flowing;
Skoal to thy honor, thou land of my birth!
Minds deeply thinking,
Harvest fields growing,—
Peaceful exploits have I loved on the earth.
"Vain amid slaughter
Bloody and daring,
Sought I for peace,—she fled in dismay.
Now the mild daughter
Of heaven appearing,
Beckons me hence to Valhal away.
"Hail ye immortals!
Sons of high heaven!
Earth disappears; Gjallarhorn to a feast
Opens the portals;
By the gods given,
Blessedness crowns as a helmet the guest!"
Speaking intently,
Ing'borg's hand loyal,
Also his son's, and his friend's, too, he pressed;
Eyelids close gently,—
Spirit so royal
Flies with a sigh to the Allfather's breast.
XXI.
RING'S DRAPA.
Sepultured sits he,
Sovereign descended,
Battle sword by him,
Buckler on arm;
Chafes his good charger
Champing impatient,
Pawing with gold-hoof
The gate of the grave.
Ring, great in riches,
Rideth o'er Bifrost;
Bends with its burden,
Bridge of the gods.
Wide for his welcome
Valhal it opens,
Hands to the hero
Heaven extends.
Absent is Asa-Thor,
Active in warfare.
Beckoned by Odin
The beaker is brought;
Frey the king graces
With garlands of grain-ears,
Blossoms the bluest
Binds Frigg therein.
Graspeth the gold-string,
Gray-bearded Brage,
Stiller now sigheth
The song than before;
Freyja the faithful,
Fondly reclining.
Bends o'er the board and
Burneth to hear.