Burds From Yonder Holm

A Saxon tale of wondrous maidens of the sea.

A yearhundred had not yet quelled,
The tale of the maidens of the sea,
Watching as the begotten keepers,
That foremighty Aegir bestowed ere.

Thenceforth written in the hurrocks,
The hidden runes found beyond a lea,
That tell of the wis lore of the queans,
Roaming the billowing ithes of a mere.

Thither the elders of the thorps spake,
About fair dwellers lurking by a waroth,
And worshiped in gleestaffs and leeths,
When wending upon the eas of Midgard.

Whence derved the Saxons hote forthwith,
Leading them onward upon the til faroth,
Whilst the longships and barths sail forth,
With brim-guests laiting a door of Asgard.

Upon a smolt glint of a wistful morning,
Rode upon brisk winds the orped Saxon,
With the tirfast name of Adelric nevened,
By all the unwines who dreaded his main.

A werod of the worthy hades graith eft,
That strove with the sword as a weapon,
As a fell awakening betided straightway,
Within the welkin full of clouds of rain.

Then a selcouth mist slowly wrapt around,
The hulk of the sound-wood and thurrock,
And blinded the sight of the Saxons rathe,
Startling them to flit betimes and answer.

A swith swelgend forset a furtherance,
With the ship tossed as a listless currock,
As the lithends hurkled and then sliked,
And the men heard a shrill of a wailster.

Eftsoon the lire of the darkness stared,
At the hold kinsmen that withstood nigh,
With the eerie wurp in a winters-blade,
Fanging them with the sleep of death.

Hronn thrutched and wathed the wers,
As manifold leaped into the waters high,
When the gar of Adelric thirled her eye,
As she blew within the birr of her breath.

Adelric fell into the depth of the eddy,
And the mouth of Hronn opened wide,
When she sought to swallow him whole,
Yet the water began swiftly to yote away.

When Adelric awoke from his drowsiness,
He felt wet fingers of a maiden at his side,
Who bore a seeming of a swonge woman,
By the stathe with fain ebbs as a mainstay.

'Twas Duva who the kinsmen say simle,
Wandereth amidst the waxen island fog,
With her flowing long hair and love beads,
That lathe a brazen man who durst to see.

The shalks warn of her tears of sorrow,
That neareth a brook and marshy bog,
Seeking from amongst the bain men,
To fall in love and share endless glee.

With her weeping tears she healed,
The wounds that snothe of Adelric,
Who thanked her for redding his life,
Matheling his love and oath as well.

Henceforth within those days of fareld,
Riseth in brim-wilms the son of Eldric,
Beside the daughter of Aegir and of Ran,
Upon the waters of dwimmer that swell.

O ye the thwarters of the mighty fifels,
Who are the lewth and hof of Midgard,
Goddesses of rising floods and pools,
The eyots and the firths abide thy wist.

Lemans of the athelings and freemen,
Steady hine of the nine worlds of Asgard,
The mermaids of sele that men thus lite,
When fighting a spear-din within the mist.

Harken to the queer rouns drifting along,
The strands of the sea-fiends and nicors,
Who wrest the souls of the bold Saxons,
When hiding within the rands and coves.

Behold ye, the burds from yonder holm,
The mothers and sisters of wlonc afors,
Who gale and drink mead with the bairns,
And swim blive behind the sundry groves.