All was over: day was ending
As the foeman turned and fled.
Gloomy red
Glowed the angry sun descending;
While round Hacon's dying bed,
Tears and songs of triumph blending,
Told how fast the conqueror bled
II.
"Raise me," said the King. We raised him—
Not to ease his desperate pain;
That were vain!
"Strong our foe was—but we faced him
Show me that red field again."
Then, with reverent hands, we placed him
High above the bloody plain.
III.
Silent gazed he; mute we waited,
Kneeling round-a faithful few,
Staunch and true,—
Whilst above, with thunder freighted,
Wild the boisterous north wind blew,
And the carrion-bird, unsated,
On slant wing around us flew.
IV.
Sudden, on our startled hearing,
Came the low-breathed, stern command—
"Lo! ye stand?
Linger not, the night is nearing;
Bear me downwards to the strand,
Where my ships are idly steering
Off and on, in sight of land."
V.
Every whispered word obeying,
Swift we bore him down the steep,
O'er the deep,
Up the tall ship's side, low swaying
To the storm-wind's powerful sweep,
And—his dead companions laying
Round him,—we had time to weep.