Classic Poem

Hakon of Thule, ere he died,
Summoned a Priest to his bed-side.

" Ho, Priest!" with blackening brow quoth he,
" What comfort canst thou cast to me?"

The young Priest, with a timorous mouth,
Told of the new gods of the South, —

Of Mary Mother and her Child,
And holy Saints with features mild;

Of those who hate and those who love,
Of Hell beneath and Heaven above.

Then Hakon laughed full loud and shrill —
" Serve thy puny gods who will!"

Then, roaring to his henchman red,
" Slit me the throat o' the Priest," he said;

" His red heart's blood shall flow before,
As steaming sacrifice to Thor!

" Bring me my mighty drinking-cup:
With fiery wine now fill it up!"

Then, though so faint his life's blood ran,
" Let me die standing, like a man!"

He swore, and staggered to his legs,
And drained the goblet to the dregs.

" Skaal be to the gods!" he said —
His great heart burst, and he was dead!