Riding on horses, brave men on their steeds
Exchanging speech; skilled were they at the spear.
So in the meeting-place the people all
Were gathered, and they bade the lot decide
Among them, who should first give up his life 1100
For food unto the rest; they cast the lots
With hellish craft; before their heathen gods
They counted them. Behold, the lot did fall
Upon an aged chieftain, one who was
A counselor among the noble lords,
In front rank of the host. Soon was he bound
In fetters fast, despairing of his life.

Then cried that chieftain fierce with voice of woe,
Proclaiming he would give his own young son
Into their power as ransom for his life. 1110
With thankful hearts they took his offering,
For greedily they lusted after food,
Sad-minded men; no joy had they in wealth,
Nor hope in hoarded riches; they were sore
Oppressed with hunger, for the famine dire
Held cruel sway. Then many a warrior
And hero battle-bold was fired in heart
To struggle for the life of that young man;
The sign of woe was published far and wide
Throughout the town to many a hero brave, 1120
That they should seek in troops the young man's death,
That, young and old, they should receive their share
As food to keep their lives. The heathen priests
Straightway collected there a multitude