Hail the hall-stone, high-pillared gem-gens,
Whom Bor's fallen foe's broken bones
Restore from stench to polished stones!
Hail brindle-brows of breathtaking peaks
Whose carved caverns are hill-castles,
Peacock-plumed with precious jewels,
And lined with long-ages forged luxuries!
Hail the slumber of sleeping Mim's sons,
Who arms at arm's length awesome wait
To take up polished tusk and try their might
To guard the green gown of Earth's skirts
Beneath which nether treasures gnoll ;
The ancestors' antique grave-guardians of old
Who bless the buried bones with art
Enjewel-joying their nether journeys
From wisdom to wisdom, and wyrdwards.
Hail tawny traders in teardrops of Freya,
Stone-strung in blissful bright of jewel-strangle,
Nurtured each in one night nether-tumble
Of tantric tingle of teased-out genius!
Hail the hoard-holders of Jord!
Who grow in granite gardens marvels from the deep!
Soul of solemn depth-ceremonies
Held in the harvest of holy Hel-shrines!
Today the dearest dead return to visit,
To choose their cheer in charming feasts! Hail!
