Song of Feallengod

Lift high your shoulders, take the red seal,
Establish the mighty king’s strength.
The distant shadow of deep despair’s hope
Knows not height, neither breadth, neither length.
Bend hard under blows, lift high ev’ry head,
One day Gægnian’s door 'ere life’s losing.
Thorns pierce the flesh on the road's compelled walk,
But for one, and that of his choosing.