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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538575" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hymn To Woden</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">God of the battle, hear our prayer!<br>By the lifted falchion's glare;<br>By the uncouth fane sublime,<br>Marked with many a Runic rhyme;<br>By the 'weird sisters' dread,<br>That, posting through the battle red,<br>Choose the slain, and with them go<br>To Valhalla's halls below,<br>Where the phantom-chiefs prolong<br>Their echoing feast, a giant throng, <br>And their dreadful beverage drain<br>From the skulls of warriors slain:<br>God of the battle, hear our prayer;<br>And may we thy banquet share!<br>Save us, god, from slow disease;<br>From pains that the brave spirit freeze;<br>From the burning fever's rage;<br>From wailings of unhonoured age,<br>Drawing painful his last breath;<br>Give us in the battle death! <br>Let us lift our glittering shield,<br>And perish, perish in the field!<br>Now o'er Cumri's hills of snow<br>To death, or victory, we go;<br>Hark! the chiefs their cars prepare;<br>See! they bind their yellow hair;<br>Frenzy flashes from their eye,<br>They fly--our foes before them fly!<br>Woden, in thy empire drear,<br>Thou the groans of death dost hear, <br>And welcome to thy dusky hall<br>Those that for their country fall!<br>Hail, all hail the godlike train,<br>That with thee the goblet drain;<br>Or with many a huge compeer,<br>Lift, as erst, the shadowy spear!<br>Whilst Hela's inmost caverns dread<br>Echo to their giant tread,<br>And ten thousand thousand shields<br>Flash lightning o'er the glimmering fields! <br>Hark! the battle-shouts begin--<br>Louder sounds the glorious din:<br>Louder than the ice's roar,<br>Bursting on the thawing shore;<br>Or crashing pines that strew the plain,<br>When the whirlwinds hurl the main!<br>Riding through the death-field red,<br>And singling fast the destined dead,<br>See the fatal sisters fly!<br>Now my throbbing breast beats high-- <br>Now I urge my panting steed,<br>Where the foemen thickest bleed.<br>Soon exulting I shall go,<br>Woden, to thy halls below;<br>Or o'er the victims, as they die,<br>Chaunt the song of Victory!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Lisle+Bowles">William Lisle Bowles</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538575" data-title="Hymn To Woden de William Lisle Bowles" data-description="God of the battle, hear our prayer!
By the lifted falchion's glare;
By the uncouth fane sublime,
Marked with many a Runic rhyme;
By the 'weird sisters' dread,
That, posting through the battle red,
Choose the slain, and with them go
To Valhalla's h..."></div>
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