The First of Snowberg

This is written in the Old Norse Meter fornyrthislag by Magnús hvalmagi, though the general construction is inspired primarily by epic Anlgo-Saxon poetry.

It is the traditional charge of the Baronial Bard of Concordia to chronicle the deeds of the Snowberg Army at Pennsic. In AS 48, Magnús hvalmagi held the position of Baronial bard, but could not witness the Pennsic battles. Instead, he recounted the tale of the origin of the Snowberg army - the tale of a long-lost warrior of the north whose bravery inspired generations.

1. The world was joyous -	wealth and peace were
found in all the lands -	few were troubled.
But idle minds	and idle souls
flourished in those fair	fields of plenty.
A sin begat	a greater sin,
and soon the ills	of ailing hearts
tainted and tortured	the track of men -
evils arose	to wreak their doom.
2. Far to the west	was found a cleftland
stretching deeply -	still it is so named.
Deep in the belly	of boiling earth
was birthed a beast	of burning rage.
Of ache and hurt -	of heart-woe and
sinful vengeance	was sired the monster.
The enemy of man	was eager to work
his schemes and plots	through the sky-burner.
3. The worm of flames	on wings of smoke
took to the sky	and scoured the land.
It razed cities	and ruined farmland -
its greed begat	a grief profound.
Too little it owned -	the land was ripe
and rich with prizes	it possessed not.
Its wanting grew	for want of grace,
and with it grew the rage	of the wrathful demon.
4. To the East it gazed -	a gainsome plot
it thought that place -	a prize to claim.
From the air it loosed	an oily flame-gout
and landed in the ruins	it left behind.
Where trees once stood	now stained earth
alone could be found -	no life survived.
The woodlands rusted	like weapons of iron
where the creature stopped -	still they are so named.
5. To the north lay	the linden-halls.
A cry went out -	the oaks of battle
moved to reclaim	their calloused soil!
Fierce the fighting -	the flame-clash of
sturdy trees of	trials was felt in
every land and	in every hearth.
Terrible their losses,	but at last the woods
of wounding-poles	repelled the corruptor!
6. Back to the west	the wyrm retreated -
fleeing at once	the wasted rustlands.
Far to fairer	fields it hastened,
to tend its wounds -	and tender its revenge.
A host of the dead	it dragged from the grave -
tattered banners	and bloody flags
raised from the depths -	red with corpse-mud
that cuprous lake -	it is called this still.
7. Back to the west	the wyrm retreated -
fleeing at once	the wasted rustlands.
Far to fairer	fields it hastened,
to tend its wounds -	and tender its revenge.
A host of the dead	it dragged from the grave -
tattered banners	and bloody flags
raised from the depths -	red with corpse-mud
that cuprous lake -	it is called this still.
6. Back to the west	the wyrm retreated -
fleeing at once	the wasted rustlands.
Far to fairer	fields it hastened,
to tend its wounds -	and tender its revenge.
A host of the dead	it dragged from the grave -
tattered banners	and bloody flags
raised from the depths -	red with corpse-mud
that cuprous lake -	it is called this still.
6. Back to the west	the wyrm retreated -
fleeing at once	the wasted rustlands.
Far to fairer	fields it hastened,
to tend its wounds -	and tender its revenge.
A host of the dead	it dragged from the grave -
tattered banners	and bloody flags
raised from the depths -	red with corpse-mud
that cuprous lake -	it is called this still. ©2013 Peter Olsen