hey crested o'er the final rise,
And Signar's heart leapt when he saw,
That Thorgeir's plans, indeed, were wise,
The armies fared as he foresaw.

With one great shout, the charge began,
First slow, then faster, gaining speed
Until the column fairly ran,
To show their valor in their deeds.

With one great stroke, two Finns were hewn
By Signar's mighty, flashing blade.
With three more felled, 'twas clear that soon
Great Finnish barrows needed made.

He waded into Finnland's lines.
A slice! A thrust! A crushing blow!
The grass was stained like reddish wine
By lifeblood of the luckless foe.

Those yet untested boys who traced
The path that Signar's sword had shown
Were pressed to keep the frightful pace
Their leader plied through flesh and bone.

But they found bravery that day.
Through Signar's flashing sword, it came.
For years thereafter, all would say
It seemed as though it were aflame.

They held the mortal foe at bay,
Dividing Finnland each from each.
Norwegians came between to stay,
Though they were pressed to hold the breach.

They fought the foe beyond their skill;
Full many Finns were ever lost.
But Norway's hearts were often stilled,
While paying valor's frightful cost.

For bravery, their lines were held!
For bravery, their strength stayed new!
For bravery, mere boys were felled.
For bravery, Valhalla grew.

But Signar did not leave behind,
Those buds that flowered in the field.
Whene'er a crack formed in the line,
Bold Signar came and Finns would yield.

He seemed as 'twere a beast of air,
All lightning, wind and battle-cry.
Appearing here, appearing there,
Along the breach, on either side.

But ever on their ranks still surged,
Like tides upon an open shore.
Those boys, now men, bold Signar urged
To even greater deeds in war.

"Come fellows! Onward! Wet your swords!"
They heard their captain cry aloud.
"Our king is what we fight toward,
Let not his noble head be bowed!"

They followed Signar through the moil,
As Valkyries collected souls.
And, from him, enemies recoiled,
Lest Odin add them to his rolls.

But forward, standards changed their hue,
As Sweden's men o'ertook the Finn.
And Thorvald, once again, proved true:
The battle did not scarce begin.

The Swedes held firm, though many fell;
No quarter asked nor, either, gave.
The Swede fought hard, the Swede fought well.
Indeed, they proved surpassing brave.

They slowed within this grave morass,
A crimson flood befouled the ground.
E'en Signar could not pierce their mass.
With each Swede lost, two more were found.

Then Norway felt the frightful blows,
Inflicted by the enemy.
The sky turned yellow, orange, rose,
But, still, they fought on valiantly.

E'en Signar felt his sword's great weight
As Sol fell 'neath the western verge.
But Sweden's men, resigned to fate,
Could find no strength for battle's urge.

As Signar hewed these battle-oaks,
The forest seemed to have no side.
He thought he had not one more stroke,
When, suddenly, it opened wide.

Beneath the star-lit firmament,
He saw a gloomy, gathered host.
Toward them, Signar quickly went,
Be they Norwegian, Swede or ghost.

He recognized the Norway men,
Who stood about, encircling
The prince, who kneeled upon the glen
Beside good Thorgeir, Norway's king!

King Thorgeir lay upon the ground,
His face a chilling, ashy gray.
Each breath produced a rattle's sound.
'Twas clear he'd not meet dawn of day.

From off his silver, blood-stained hair,
The king removed his honored crown,
And placed it on his son and heir.
The kingship had been handed down!