My sire ne’er fondly turned;
But he raised his country’s glory high,
When the strife of warriors burned.
To shine in games of strength and skill,
To breast the torrent from the hill,
To lead the van of the bannered host—
These were his deeds and these his boast.
Where was thy God, when o’er the tide
Two heroes hither bore
Of Lochlin, king of ships, the bride,