He came upon us from the bruiséd North,
Leading forth a host of brigand knav'ry
Who once were only feuding petty-kings,
born to desp'rate battle and gloried death.
But Fulgid Glim gave to them many gifts
And each their bloody praises did he sing;
and forth they came under a new accord,
'Neath the flag of the Many-eyed, Mumbling Thing.
On Glim's brow the crown of cabbages he bore
And the Dire Men called him their Tainted Thegn;
They rode on us in darkness and unease
To throw down the nacreous towers of yore
Where dwelt the darkly dreaming deities.
Now our untimely bruised and bloodied night
does Fulgid beset with his ugsome thegns:
Greer of dank and mossy mane, crusher of
brittle-bonéd men; and Thjornig Marrow,
who rides to cleave the face of death itself;
In place of Blind Krell before him, who was slain;
Gorespindle, whose wicked barbs crave flesh;
And Ditherprank, whose mirthful cranium
is born upon his oddly faithful mute;
And many a blood-soaked tyrant beside.
They come to test our bones on edge of knife,
And beat into our skulls with shrieking axe;
To plunge our hapless land in deeper strife,
To unseam our sickly kerns and burn our shacks;
To rifle through the bones and carry forth
Our burnéd trinkets to the gory North.
