Row, row, through the darkling sea-
One king's daughter is waiting me:
Her hair is unbound till I come to land,
And gather her hair in my conqueror's hand,
And set my crown on her shining head
And bear her, crowned, to our wedding-bed.
Row, row, under skies of gray-
Two kings' sisters I carried away.
They sleep in my byre and they milk my kine,
And the dreams they dream are servants of mine.
Row, row, through the threshing waves-
Red cocks crow over three kings' graves.
Their wives at my will they saw and knew;
Then my mercy spoke and my henchmen slew.
Row, row, while the oar-blades hold-
Four kings' children I bought and sold:
Two that had sucked at the same kind breast
I sundered as far as East from West.
One that had cursed me I clothed in gold,
And into the hand of a sultan sold;
One that had silently ta'en my yoke
I gave for a slave to my fisher-folk.
Row, row, through the sea-fires' flare-
Five kings' women gave me their hair;
Soft was the flaxen and long the brown,
Worthy the black hair to bear a crown,
But Gudrun's gold hair shines them all down.
Row, row, while the wind holds fair,
Six kings' brothers my banner bear:
On a golden field black swoops the raven
With fear on its wings from haven to haven.
Row, row, while the shore-winds blow!
Seven queens with my herd-girls go:
Fierce and shy are my cattle all,
Far must my herds go, long must they call.
Row, row, lest the good winds fail!
Eight queens shall pour me my wedding-ale,
Light the torches and smoothly spread
The covers of sendal sewn with red.
Row, row, for the shore is nigh;
Nine kings I've made; and the tenth am I,
And I am little and swart to see,
And white is the woman that waits for me.
Atli the Hun, I come a-land
With the strength of ten kings in my hand;
And she that I seek is deadly fair
With the beauty of ten in her eyes and hair.