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Translated by William Sidney Walker
O, GREAT was Denmark’s land in time of old! | |
| Wide to the south her branch of glory spread; | |
| Fierce to the battle rushed her heroes bold, | |
| Eager to join the revels of the dead: | |
| While the fond maiden flew with smiles to fold | 5 |
| Round her returning warrior’s vesture red | |
| Her arm of snow, with nobler passion fired, | |
| When to the breast of love, exhausted, he retired. | |
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| Nor bore they only to the field of death | |
| The bossy buckler and the spear of fire; | 10 |
| The bard was there, with spirit-stirring breath, | |
| His bold heart quivering as he swept the wire, | |
| And poured his notes, amidst the ensanguined heath, | |
| While panting thousands kindled at his lyre: | |
| Then shone the eye with greater fury fired, | 15 |
| Then clashed the glittering mail, and the proud foe retired. | |
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| And when the memorable day was past, | |
| And Thor triumphant on his people smiled, | |
| The actions died not with the day they graced; | |
| The bard embalmed them in his descant wild, | 20 |
| And their hymned names, through ages uneffaced, | |
| The weary hours of future Danes beguiled: | |
| When even their snowy bones had mouldered long, | |
| On the high column lived the imperishable song. | |
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| And the impetuous harp resounded high | 25 |
| With feats of hardiment done far and wide, | |
| While the bard soothed with festive minstrelsy | |
| The chiefs, reposing after battle-tide: | |
| Nor would stern themes alone his hand employ; | |
| He sang the virgin’s sweetly tempered pride, | 30 |
| And hoary eld, and woman’s gentle cheer, | |
| And Denmark’s manly hearts, to love and friendship dear. | |
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