I. Widely's warped To warn of slaughter The back-beam's rug-- Lo, blood is raining! Now grey with spears Is framed the web Of human kind, With red woof filled By maiden friends Of Randver's slayer. II. That web is warped With human entrails, And is hard weighted With heads of people; Bloodstained darts Do for treadles, The forebeam's ironbound The reed's of arrows; Swords be sleys[39] For this web of war. III. Hild goes to weave And Hiorthrimol Sangrid and Svipol With swords unsheathed. Shafts will crack And shields will burst, The dog of helms Will drop on byrnies. IV. Wind we, wind we Web of javelins Such as the young king Has waged before. Forward we go And rush to the fray, Where our friends Engage in fighting. V. Wind we, wind we Web of javelins Where forward rush The fighters' standards. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * VI. Wind we, wind we Web of javelins, And faithfully The king we follow. Nor shall we leave His life to perish; Among the doomed Our choice is ample. VII. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * There Gunn and Gondul Who guarded the king Saw borne by men Bloody targets. VIII. That race will now Rule the country Which erstwhile held But outer nesses. The mighty king, Meweens, is doomed. Now pierced by points The Earl hath fallen. IX. Such bale will now Betide the Irish As ne'er grows old To minding men. The web's now woven The wold made red, Afar will travel The tale of woe. X: An awful sight The eye beholdeth As blood-red clouds Are borne through heaven; The skies take hue Of human blood, Whene'er fight-maidens Fall to singing. XI. Willing we chant Of the youthful king A lay of victory-- Luck to our singing! But he who listens Must learn by heart This spear-maid's song And spread it further. XII. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * On bare-backed steeds We start out swiftly With swords unsheathed From hence away.