Song."

"On high the raven banner
Invites the hungry kites,
Red glares the sun at noon-tide,
Wild gleam the Northern lights;
The war-horn brays its summons,
And from each rock-bound fiord
Come the sea-kings of Norway,
To follow Norway's lord.

"The cloven arrow speeding,
Fraught with war's alarms,
Calls the ravens to their feast,
The Udallers to arms.
See that your helms be burnished,
See that your blades be ground,
When he of Yngve's kindred
Sends the war token round!"

"Skoal, [Footnote: The Norse drinking salutation.] Vandrad!
skoal!" cried the hermit.

His hearers looked at him in amazement. His eyes flashed, his lips
twitched, the whole man was transformed for the moment into the
Viking of the western seas.

"Once I was a skald myself," he said. "You have quickened what I
thought was dead." And he rose and walked out into the night.