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1. THE SUN OF THE WAR GODS - (Snorri Sturluson)
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Surtr fares from the south with switch-eating flame,
On his sword shimmers the sun of the War-Gods;
The rock-crags crash; the fiends are reeling;
Heroes tread Hel-way; Heaven is cloven.

On their backs they let beam, sore battered with stones,
Odin's hall-shingles, the shrewd sea-farers.

Of Ymir's flesh the earth was fashioned,
And of his sweat the sea;
Crags of his bones, trees of his hair,
And of his skull the sky.
Then of his brows the blithe gods made
Midgard for sons of men;
And of his brain the bitter-mooded
Clouds were all created.

Untold ages ere earth was shapen,
Then was Bergelmir born;
That first I recall, how the famous wise giant
On the deck of the ship was laid down.


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2. HE HIMSELF INSPIRED THE TERROR OF SHIPS - (Snorri Sturluson)
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On the gravelly beach of good ships
Grates the Blood of Ymir.

The mild deer of the masthead beareth
O'er the murky water from the westward
Her wave-pressed bows; the land I look for
Before the beak; the Whale-Home shallows.

There the Týr of Triumph
Himself inspired the terror
Of ships; the gods of breezes
That favor good men steered them.

When the fallow fell-wall's Whirlwinds
Wove o'er the waves full fiercely,
And Ćgir's storm-glad daughters
Tore, of grim frost begotten.

And the Sea-Peak's Sleipnir slitteth
The stormy breast rain-driven,

The wave, with red stain running
Out of white Rán's mouth.

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3. INTO THE WAVES BELOW - (William Falconer)
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The Helm, bereft of half its vital force,
Now scarce subdued the wild unbridled course;
Quick to th' abandoned wheel Arion came,
The Ship's tempestuous sallies to reclaim:
The Vessel, while the dread event draws nigh,
Seems more impatient o'er the waves to fly

Fate spurs her on!—Thus, issuing from afar,
Advances to the Sun some blazing Star,
And, as it feels Attraction's kindling force,
Springs onward with accelerated course.

The Moment fraught with Fate approaches fast!
While thronging Sailors climb each quivering mast;
The Ship no longer now must stem the Land,
And, 'hard a starboard!' is the last command

While every suppliant voice to Heaven applies,
The Prow, swift wheeling, to the westward flies;
Twelve Sailors, on the Foremast who depend,
High on the platform of the Top ascend,
Fatal Retreat! for, while the plunging Prow
Immerges headlong into the waves below

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4. ESCAPED TO ENDLESS REST - (William Falconer)
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On you the blast, surcharged with rain and snow
In winter's dismal nights no more shall beat
Unfelt by you the vertic Sun may glow
And scorch the panting Earth with baneful heat

No more the joyful maid, with sprightly strain,
Shall wake the dance to give yon welcome home;
Nor hopeless love impart undying pain,
When far from scenes of social joy you roam;

No more on yon wide watery waste you stray
While hunger and disease your life consume
While parching thirst, that burns without allay
Forbids the blasted rose of health to bloom

No more you feel Contagion's mortal breath
That taints the realms with misery severe
No more behold pale famine, scattering death
With cruel ravage desolate the year

The thundering drum, the trumpet's swelling strain
Unheard, shall form the long embattled line
Unheard, the deep foundations of the main
Shall tremble, when the hostile squadrons join

Since grief, fatigue, and hazards still molest
The wandering vassals of the faithless deep
Oh! happier now escaped to endless rest
Than we who still survive to wake and weep

Full oft the flattering marble bids Renown
With blazoned trophies deck the spotted name
And oft, too oft, the venal Muses crown
The slaves of vice with never-dying fame

Yet shall remembrance from Oblivion's veil
Relieve your Scene, and sigh with grief sincere
And soft Compassion at your tragic Tale
In silent tribute pay her kindred tear.