‘Seven we were, and seven we fell,
seven in strength, by honour bound
now none but names, now none remain,
to light the lands of multitudes.
For while we stood, we held our ground
and seven by seven foes in rage
could not bear battle at our shields;
they fell to us, we fearless few.
But then, when Haeleth fell, we lost
not one of us but all of us;
lost all our light, our heavens’ shine,
what worth we have should we yet live?
A spear it was brought day to dusk,
in shadow threw us, we who stayed;
she was unflinching, the faultless one,
when gored by ash-wood, dropped her shield.
The blood streamed forth like sun’s rays,
pierced in the neck, her cries went forth
though once the purest tones of songcraft,
then darkened to a raven’s croak.
Since Haeleth fell, she who led us,
to the field, gave grief to many;
now Lēoma’s hall is brighter,
and we are lost, in darkness cast,
this song all that of us remains;
the sons of I’uddiff, on shores of fate.’”