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WAR-SONG OF HARALD THE RED |
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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
207
WAR-SONG OF HARALD THE RED
And this is the song of battle, they sang to the thrash of the oars,
As the prows of their shield-hung dragons were driven along the shores:—
As the prows of their shield-hung dragons were driven along the shores:—
On to the battle! Yo ho for the slaughter!
Hark to the grind of the oars that thunder!
Clash of the prows as they crash through the water,
Hurl through the foam of the seas they sunder!
Up with the axe! and drive through the bristling
Beaks of the foe that our iron has broken!
On through the sleet of the shafts that are whistling,
Arrows of ash, in a wedge that is oaken.
By the eye of Odin! whose frown is war,
Think of the vikings' daughters, who wear
Gold on their hips! to hale by the hair,
Gold-bound, red as the beard of Thor!
Virgins, whose bodies, white-bosomed, are
For rape and ransom!—A kingdom's ravish
Yours! for the sweat and the blood you lavish.
Hark to the grind of the oars that thunder!
Clash of the prows as they crash through the water,
Hurl through the foam of the seas they sunder!
Up with the axe! and drive through the bristling
Beaks of the foe that our iron has broken!
On through the sleet of the shafts that are whistling,
Arrows of ash, in a wedge that is oaken.
By the eye of Odin! whose frown is war,
Think of the vikings' daughters, who wear
Gold on their hips! to hale by the hair,
208
Virgins, whose bodies, white-bosomed, are
For rape and ransom!—A kingdom's ravish
Yours! for the sweat and the blood you lavish.
Hark! on the shore how his fierce fangs clamor!
Ocean's, whose rocks are hungry for carrion:—
Ho! 'tis a sound as of swords that hammer
Helms to the brazen snarl of the clarion. . . .
On to the revel of war, my bullies,
Blades, that fury like fire to battle!
On to the banquet, through spray that gullies,
Bray of the beaks and the oars' wild rattle!
When prow grinds prow and the arrows hail,
Think! were it better with hollow-eyed Hel
To rot with cowards? or boast and yell
Hoarse toasts over skulls of the boisterous ale
High in Valhalla where heroes dwell?
In vast Valhalla, where life wends well!
The warrior vault of whose shields with curses
Rings to the roar of the Berserk verses!
Ocean's, whose rocks are hungry for carrion:—
Ho! 'tis a sound as of swords that hammer
Helms to the brazen snarl of the clarion. . . .
On to the revel of war, my bullies,
Blades, that fury like fire to battle!
On to the banquet, through spray that gullies,
Bray of the beaks and the oars' wild rattle!
When prow grinds prow and the arrows hail,
Think! were it better with hollow-eyed Hel
To rot with cowards? or boast and yell
Hoarse toasts over skulls of the boisterous ale
High in Valhalla where heroes dwell?
In vast Valhalla, where life wends well!
The warrior vault of whose shields with curses
Rings to the roar of the Berserk verses!
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |