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102
ARNLJOT GELLINE
All the host victorious
Shouted.
For in flight the foemen
Fell back distracted,
Stricken with terror
Each one.
In the arch of heaven
Blood-red the sun shone,
All the earth beneath it
Blood-red.
Forests and meadows,
The sands and the river,
All the men’s faces,
Blood-red.
Blood-tinged were the farmsteads,
The corn-fields golden,
The King’s white banner,
Blood-red.
From on high an omen
To their seeming,
Wrathful fought against them
Olaf’s God.
Fled all the stricken
Out toward the forest,
Sought there to hide them
From God.
Filled with dark terror
Wide they were scattered,
Recognize they could not
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