For the Yule was upon them, the Yule, and the waesheils were shouted and roared
By the Berserks, the eaters of fire, and the Jarls round the ponderous board.
And huge on the hearth, that writhed, hissing, and bellied, an ingot of gold,
The Yule-log, the half of an oak from the mountains, was royally rolled.
And its warmth and its glory, that glared, smote red through the width of the hall,
And burnished the boar-skins and bucklers and war-axes hung on the wall.
And the maidens, who hurried big goblets, that bubbled, excessive with barm,
Blushed rose to the gold of thick curls as the shining steel mirrored each charm.
And Erick's one hundred gray skalds, at the nod and the beck of the king,