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[278] Men saw the boding Fylgja
     Before them come and go,
And, through their dreams, the Urdarmoon
     From west to east sailed slow!

Jarl Thorkell of Thevera
     At Yule-time made his vow;
On Rykdal's holy Doom-stone
     He slew to Frey his cow.

To bounteous Frey he slew her;
     To Skuld, the younger Norn,
Who watches over birth and death,
     He gave her calf unborn.

And his little gold-haired daughter
     Took up the sprinkling-rod,
And smeared with blood the temple
     And the wide lips of the god.

Hoarse below, the winter water
     Ground its ice-blocks o'er and o'er;
Jets of foam, like ghosts of dead waves,
     Rose and fell along the shore.

The red torch of the Jokul,
     Aloft in icy space,
Shone down on the bloody Horg-stones
     And the statue's carven face.

And closer round and grimmer
     Beneath its baleful light
The Jotun shapes of mountains
     Came crowding through the night.

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Frey (2)
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