Down in Valhalla, where the devil Odin dwells,

The brutes of Europe burn, while the flame of learning swells.

Their promised after-life for fighting Christ is given,

To sit with Muninn there a million leagues from heaven!

Against society one last barbarous race

Made war; that in a battle by a bridge, the grace

Of God was given to a fearless Saxon King;

Behold the son of Godwin - to him and this I sing.

See the son of Odin die, see his Harold perish,

For all who love society, on a day we'll ever cherish.

Lord Harold, rightful King of Albion, don't fear

Your fate, march south, a greater Kingdom greets you there!

You must yield to a Norman prince; but thanks to you,

I read, I write, I pray, - this Art I may pursue.