| |
| PURE white the shields their arms upbear, | |
| With silver emblems rare o’ercast; | |
| Amid blue glittering blades they go, | |
| The horns they blow are loud of blast. | |
| |
| In well-instructed ranks of war | 5 |
| Before their Chief they proudly pace; | |
| Coerulean spears o’er every crest— | |
| A curly-tressed, pale-visaged race. | |
| |
| Beneath the flame of their attack, | |
| Bare and black turns every coast; | 10 |
| With such a terror to the fight | |
| Flashes that mighty vengeful host. | |
| |
| Small wonder that their strength is great, | |
| Since royal in estate are all, | |
| Each hero’s head a lion’s fell— | 15 |
| A golden yellow mane lets fall. | |
| |
| Comely and smooth their bodies are, | |
| Their eyes the starry blue eclipse, | |
| The pure white crystal of their teeth | |
| Laughs out beneath their thin red lips. | 20 |
| |
| Good are they at man-slaying feats, | |
| Melodious over meats and ale; | |
| Of woven verse they wield the spell, | |
| At chess-craft they excel the Gael. | |
| |
