The Call Of Elfled, The King's Daughter. From "Lady Godiva."

Dark night along England's coast.
Up from their ships come the swarming foemen;
Harold Sigurd heads their host;
Swordsmen and spearmen shouting to bowmen:
"The fire, the fire for house and byre!
The steel, the steel till the Saxons reel!
A Valkyr feast of thegn and yeoman!
England, all England our spoil of war
A haven for Odin's raven,
And our boast
That Death beats time to the hammer of Thor."
Red flame that to sleepers came,
Rose bright thro the black of the night.
Alfwyn, the Saxon king, fell in his palace,
The monk at his prayers, the priest with the chalice.
Wide went the wave of rapine and slaughter,
And many a Saxon maid
Was dragged to the Norseman's lair
With shames untold,
Till word came to Elfled, the dead king's daughter,
Who, binding her golden hair,
And girding her father's blade,
Cried out in her voice of gold:
"Strong sons of the Saxon land,
Out on the foe in a whelming river,
Shield on arm, sharp sword in hand,
England, fair England to deliver!
The sword, the sword on the Norseland horde!
The spear, spear till they blench with fear!
Bolt from bow and arrow from quiver,
With the banner of Holy Cross before.
To stay them and to slay them
On the strand,
And free our godly land for evermore."