3.

’Erewhile the anger

Of Yngling’s son

I bore, prince royal

Of race divine.

With hood of daring

O’er dark locks drawn

A lord right noble

I rode to seek.

4.

’There sate in might

The monarch strong,

With helm of terror

High-throned and dread;

A king unbending

With bloody blade

Within York city

Wielded he power.

5.

’That moon-like brightness

Might none behold,

Nor brook undaunted

Great Eric’s brow:

As fiery serpent

His flashing eyes

Shot starry radiance

Stern and keen.