Cease, my strain! I hear a voice
From realms where martial souls rejoice;
I hear the maids of slaughter call,
Who bid me hence to Odin’s hall:
High-seated in their blest abodes
I soon shall quaff the drink of gods.
The hours of life have glided by,
I fall, but smiling shall I die.
And in the death-song of Hakon (Hákonarmál) we find the valkyries Gondul and Skogul in the heat of battle:
The god Tyr sent