Viking-Throes

Life’s a Battle, full of stress, Full of Change, Struggle, Combat, Weariness, Circling range-- Be limbs and heart sore heavy, yet Foe on foe is set.

Give me fingers for the Fight Keen and strong; Give a Mind that swerves no mite ’Mid the Throng; Beget me Valour, stiffly-grown, Hewn to stand alone.

Grant such Virtue so to be So to dare, That tho’ all may faint or flee --Howsoe’er The Fight may turn--I yet shall stand Firm in Eye and Hand.

Let some Purpose thro’ my tears Gleam and glow, Ah! let not the ruining Years, Full of woe, Engulf then in their dim embrace That high spectral Grace.

Yet, all Boon of boons above, This I crave, Let a tender ample Love My Spirit save Forth from the harsh ungentle chains Fight so oft attains.