"Away, away! your care is vain;
No leech could aid me now;
The chill of death is at my heart,
Its damp upon my brow.
Weep not -- I shame to see such tears
Within a warrior's eyes;
Away! how can ye weep for him
Who in the battle dies?
If I had died with idle head
Upon my lady's knee --
Had Fate stood by my silken bed,
Then might ye weep for me.
But I lie on my own proud deck
Before the sea and sky;
The wind that sweeps my gallant sails
Will have my latest sigh.
My banner floats amid the clouds,
Another droops below:
Well with my heart's best blood is paid
Such purchase from a foe.
Go ye and seek my halls, there dwells
A fair-haired boy of mine;
Give him my sword, while yet the blood
Darkens that falchion's shine.
Tell him that only other blood
Should wash such stains away;
And if he be his father's child,
There needs no more to say.
Farewell, my bark! farewell, my friends
Now fling me on the wave;
One cup of wine, and one of blood,
Pour on my bounding grave."