Souls Of The Slain Poem by Franc Rodriguez

For manifold years the kinsmen shivered,
within the shade of the wanton blood.
The days and nights were soon becoming,
a living nightmare for the sundry clans.
The war of the athelings had strewn amain,
the blood of the clansmen that withstood.
And the Saxons and Jutes were wedged,
betwixt the cleft of murdering hands.
The shrewd lords had come to break soon,
the truce of the days of yore.
A ruthless and baleful madness thus waxen,
among those who sought to slake their thirst.
Thenceforth the Gods unfastened upon them,
a most dreadful evil that was bore.
And beyond the dales would come striding,
a mighty horde of fiends as they boldly durst.
They were dreaded ettins two headed ents,
who were sent to reave the beloved erd.
And like a blustery wind they came forth,
upon the wider dales as the ground shook.
They were halsed by the throng of kinsmen,
who swiftly felt their might as they heard.
They sought to thwart the ettin’s furtherance,
but their will in the end to fight they forsook.
The ettins crushed them with a swith grasp,
as they slew with shear strength their flanks.
The thurses would yeet and shend the clans,
and suddenly the wails had become so shrill.
The athelings of the kinsmen began to wilt,
within their longsome and doughty swinks.
And their fallen bodies were then to swind,
and the thurses gloated and boasted in thrill.
Like heathens so wroth they showed no ruth,
and it would seem that their gryre had no end.
The athelings had yielded enough werguild,
yet there were no more men who could fight.
It seemed that doom was to befall upon them,
and there were no more warriors to send.
Hence stranded at the hands of all their might,
they sought amongst the bairns still upright.
Gone were the freemen, the warriors and thus,
left were only a handful of brazen athelings.
The athelings and striplings sought to thwart,
the onslaught of the ents beyond the cove.
But it would only be a small forgotten token,
for the ettins would overwhelm the striplings.
And like wanton fiends they bore their wrath,
as they roared upon the dead they strove.
The elders then blew their loud blazehorns,
and clept on the mighty warrior maidens.
From beyond the lively welkin they came,
upon the bustling winds of the earth.
Bestowed with long and flowing silky hair,
they bore shields and spears led by ravens.
And they swept down from the sky like fire,
upon the steeds they rode beyond the garth.
It was then that the ground began to rumble,
as the souls of the fallen men arose.
Quickly the mettlesome wraiths thus began,
to slay the ettins as they waned.
They would wrest their souls as they fell,
like a whirlpool that suddenly rose.
The ettins had crumbled within their thew,
and the evil had at last dwined.
And the maidens of war had come to free,
the burden brought upon them by the Gods.
The daughters of Odin would uplift then,
the wrath of the Gods which had ended.
The throng of wraiths of the men welked,
within the light of the lightening rods.
Hitherto the trust among the clans was seen,
in the troth that was afterwards blended.
The bloodythirsty war among the clans then,
brought a grith upon them for many years.
But it was to be broken by greed and lust,
and forgotten were the fallen souls that lain.
The war of the athelings led to their downfall,
and shed upon the Vikings many tears.
But soon there was to be a doughty heleth,
who would wreak the souls of the slain.