Hakon

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!