"Give place, ye peoples, to our march:
The doom of the Goths is sped!
No crown, no sceptre carry we,
We bear the noble dead.
"With shield to shield, and spear to spear,
We march to the Northland cool;
Until in grey and distant seas
We find the Island Thule.
"That is the Isle of the brave and true,
Where none dishonour fears;