Whoever First Quenches the Flames (a villanelle) by Sorn

The son of Sif, master of skis and snow, Splendid stepson of Midgard’s ally: Hail the Glorious God of the Bow!

A wily warrior, the howlers’ woe, So fearsome in combat none long defy The son of Sif, master of skis and snow.

A skilled sorcerer, well does he know The ways to enchant, to craft, and to scry. Hail the Glorious God of the Bow!

In his Dale of Yews, chill winter winds blow While ripples of colored lights smear his sky: The son of Sif, master of skis and snow.

When Allfather must fare to realms below, Awesome Ollerus rules, and so skalds cry “Hail the Glorious God of the Bow!”

All praise Ullr! Long may his arrows fly! Shield Lord, Hunting God, Wuldor Most High, The son of Sif, master of skis and snow: Hail the Glorious God of the Bow!

© 2008 Sorn Skald

- This poem is in the Common Domain and may be freely distributed, provided it remains unchanged including copyright notice and this License -

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