Whence are ye and whither, O fowl of our fathers ?1
What field have ye looked on, what acres unshorn ?2
What land have ye left where the battle-folk gathers,3
And the war-helms are white o’er the paths of the corn ?4
What tale do ye bear of the people uncraven,5
Where amidst the long hall-shadow sparkle the spears ;6
Where aloft on the hall-ridge now flappeth the raven,7
And singeth the song of the nourishing years ?8
There gather the lads in the first of the morning,9
While white lies the battle-day’s dew on the grass,10
And the kind steeds trot up to the horn’s voice of warning,11
And the winds wake and whine in the dusk of the pass.12
O fowl of our fathers, why now are ye resting ?13
Come over the mountains and look on the foe.14
Full fair after fight won shall yet be your nesting ;15
And your fledglings the sons of the kindred shall know.16