User blog:TheTragedyofE/The Legend of Eulalia

Wounds have I sixteen, is slit my byrnie,

dim grows my sight, I see no longer:

to my heart did hew, venom-hardened,

Angantýr’s sword slashing sharply. Shall fair ladies never learn that I,

from blows me shielding, backward turned me;

nor shall ever Ingibiorg taunt me,

in Sigtúna1 sitting, that from sword-blows I fled.

Unwilling nowise, from women’s converse,

from their sweet songs I with Soti fared,

hastened to join the host to eastward,

went the last time forth from friends so dear.

Led me the white-browed liege’s daughter

to the outmost end of Agnafit

Is borne out thus that back I would not

wend from this war: so the wise maid said.

From Ingibiorg— came ill-hap swiftly—

I fared forth, then, on fated day:

a lasting sorrow to the lady, this,

since not e’er after each other we’ll see.

To have and to hold I had five manors;

on that land to live misliked me, though.

Now, robbed of life, I lie here, spent,

by the sword wounded, on Sáms-isle’s shore.

(Hialmar's Death Song; Old Norse Poem)