Inglinga

Inglinga

Saturday, 22 September 2018

The Glory of our Fathers

When the glory of our fathers,
Was lost in an age of woe,
Then the heroes of our nation
Cast aside by every foe.

Then reigned the lowest of the low,
The greed for gold supreme;
The lowest rule, the highest serve,
The world a horrid dream.

Yet through the gloom a light doth shine,
A Flame of Freedom shining bright;
A hero bold he shall arise,
An Avatar - the Child of Light.

Sun-Child born in the Angle-Isle,
Of Wulfing-Blood, height Helgi named;
The Hooded Man in the forest dwells,
The beast in him shall not be tamed.

Wolf-Wild the Forest Warrior,
Fettered by the Raven-God;
Wid-Ar the Avenging Son,
Filled with the Raging Wod.

Now, change shall come across this land,
Shall English Dragon rise again;
Our freedom won by Fire and Sword,
Our enemies shall mock in vain.

The struggle for the Sacred Blood,
The gift was given by the gods;
Alone we stand against the world,
Yet we shall win against all odds.

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