(The strange discordant chant rising over the beating of uncountable shields:)
>>5252018Hark, in the days gone by
When Waldmar met Waldmar
In battle-din upon the spear-meadow
There was Iosaef Unbidden,
War-thane Of The Bright Mead-house
That was an ill King. He who looked
Upon the Falling Of The Five Hundred Banners
Woe, to the treasure-hoard, when his
Hunter's son did lie witless upon the swine-bed.
This was the age when toad-giver suffered the danger-hair
Upon the nameless whale-road, and one did claim another rutless,
Reddened the shield-rim of the man who begets men,
And the spear-shy looked upon deeds with face
Milk-agape. From the Wielder Of Triumph
Had come the war-tithe, that tribute of the East
Whose sea-steed cargoes had troubled
The strife-snatchers of Iosaef. In the Teutland
The queen of the Angles wept, in weary vigil
Their ward laid low in pyre gold-bereft.
For Olaefyr had seized their hard-fought spoils in haste,
And offered them to sate King Iosaef.
