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THE DANISH WARRIOR'S DEATH SONG.
229
Go ye, and seek my halls, there dwells
A fair-hair'd boy of mine;
Give him my sword, while yet the blood
Darkens that falchion's shine.
Tell him, that only other blood
Should wash such stains away;
And, if he be his father's child,
There needs no more to say.
Farewell, my bark! farewell, my friends!
Now fling me on the wave;
One cup of wine, and one of blood,
Pour on my bounding grave.
