Not in vain as victims, the warriors, their blood as libation to Thor!...
Lo! a glitter and splendor of arms through the snow and the foam of the seas
And the terrible ghosts of the vikings and the gauntleted Valkyries!...
Yea, the halls of fierce Erick of Sogn with the turmoil of wassail are filled,
With the steam of the flesh of the boar, and the reek of the ale that is spilled.
For the Yule and the victory are theirs, and the waesheils are shouted and roared
By the Berserks, the eaters of fire, and the Jarls round the ponderous board.