DANSMAL

HWÆT! praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the æthlings won!

Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he lay
friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till before him the folk, both far and near,
who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
gave him gifts: a good king he!

From north to south the Dane-men came
with billowing banners, on battle descending.
Full was the force the Franks’ Reich felt
as the Ganger Hrölf gained lordship, land.
Rogvald’s son stood proud; Charles succumbed.
He to Hrölf, now Rollo, granted reach
o’er lands girded round by rivers four and sea.
So was glory first gained by Norman Lords.

Throughout the width of the Middle Garth
the Normans went, in all ways winds blew.
They waxed in might; both weal and woe
went with them for those deemed worthy.
Even to Avalon did the Norman march, led to
battle by a bastard son.  Beyond this fair isle,
o’er the wave-road lay the emerald lands,
where Sons of Mil welcomed weary warriors.

Worlds were passed and wrought anew. The sons
of Rollo lay bound ‘neath Britannia’s heavy heel. 
But west once more, over Ægir’s hall, were old Danes called,
Heaven’s fire led the way to Vinland’s fabled fields.
Here a graft of ancient root
found foot in gracious land.  Proud barons
walked their new-found home, hoping once more
for glory held high to the name O’Halloran.

Dan, first born to frith-keep’s line, reborn the first
of Scylding-folk.  Soul and mind sought source
of bygone bede.  All who him witnessed saw
sign of Tiw.  To new-found Troth he
gave his guide, to Garman King, cleaved his wyrd. 
Winland Thane, his name grew great.  Gathered all
on Lammas-tide, Thane laid head on Cynning’s knee
and Norman name did ring once more.

As of old, the banner raised, to rally men
to Northman’s call.  Mighty in main waxed young
lord’s band.  Reach unbound, grew Æthling-arm.
Nobles came from near and far, in hall, to sit beside. 
Indeed the gods did bless the men
brought to bench by Norman luck.  As Sunna soared
to summer’s height, so struck they on their own. 
Tiw’s men once more wove wyrd in ancient ways.

Hail to Lord O’Halloran!  Hail Normandy,
her Æthling, all.  He holds her luck and leads her men. 
Giver of rings, unrivaled he.  Mighty in arm
and mighty in mind.  Strong in speech in word and song.  
Wealth and worth are his to give, noble son of Tiw. 
Under watch of Æthling-eye, the Theods grow once more. 
Beneath the Irminsul gather folk
who build the future by their mains.

We praise once more the people-kings
the spear-armed Danes, in days returned,
we have heard, and what honor our Æthling wins!