And the high gable-horns of the hall are not burning,
5 [But] the brave men are bearing the battle line forward,
[While] bloodthirsty sing the birds of slaughter.
Now clangs the gray corselet, clashes the war-wood,
Shield answers shaft. Now shineth the moon,
Through its cover of clouds. Now cruel days press us
10 That will drive this folk to deadly fight.
But wake at once, my warriors bold,
Stand now to your armor and strive for honor;
Fight at the front unafraid and undaunted.”