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 “Too dear the Ae;sir's favors
Bought with our children's lives;
Better die than shame in living
Our mothers and our wives.
“The full shall give his portion
To him who hath most need;
Of curdled skyr and black bread,
Be daily dole decreed.”
He broke from off his neck-chain
Three links of beaten gold;
And each man, at his bidding,
Brought gifts for young and old.
Then mothers nursed their children,
And daughters fed their sires,
And Health sat down with Plenty
Before the next Yule fires.
The Horg-stones stand in Rykdal;
The Doom-ring still remains;
But the snows of a thousand winters
Have washed away the stains.
Christ ruleth now; the Ae;sir
Have found their twilight dim;
And, wiser than she dreamed, of old
The Vala sang of Him!
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