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When from our ships we bounded,
I heard, with fear astounded,
The storm of Thorgerd's waking,
From Northern vapours breaking;
With flinty masses blended,
Gigantic hail descended,
And thick and fiercely rattled
Against us there embattled.

To aid the hostile maces,
It drifted in our faces;
It drifted, dealing slaughter,
And blood ran out like water.
Ran reeking, red, and horrid,
From batter'd cheek and forehead;
We plied our swords, but no men
Can stand against hail and foemen.


The Hail Storm
The Hail Storm


And demon Thorgerd raging
To see us still engaging,
Shot, downward from the heaven,
Her shafts of flaming levin;
Then sank our brave in numbers,
To cold eternal slumbers;
There lay the good and gallant,
Renown'd for warlike talent.

Our captain, this perceiving,
The signal made for leaving,
And with his ship departed,
Downcast and broken-hearted;
War, death, and consternation,
Pursued our embarkation;
We did our best, but no men
Can stand against hail and foemen.

The Hail Storm
The Hail Storm

Press the attack
I have invoked the victory
With the blót
Of my firstborn son

With the blót
Of my firstborn son

(Based upon a poem by George Borrow)

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