Einar Selvik – Snake Pit Poetry (Ragnar's Death Song Vikings Official)

41 thoughts on “Einar Selvik – Snake Pit Poetry (Ragnar's Death Song Vikings Official)

  1. 817,000 views! I'm so happy that you all enjoy this music as much as I do. It keeps the spirit of Ragnar alive. All hail the King!

  2. I really don't get it why they decided to keep pushing this series after his death. Damn greedy producers, always milking things WAY longer than they should. It's always better to end on a high note than continue churning out low quality bullshit that no one will remember or enjoy.

  3. Athelstan significa para Ragnar la oportunidad de ver mas alla de su mundo con otros ojos. en realidad existen personas unicas como Athelstan que no las veamos en este tiempo no es porque no existen hay personas unicas personas sagradas que podemos tener el privilegio de conocer aveces solo una vez en la vida.

  4. "It gladdens me to know that Odin prepares for a feast. Soon I shall be drinking ale from curved horns. This hero that comes into Valhalla does not lament hid death! I shall not enter Odin's hall with fear. There I shall wait for my sons to join me. And when they do I will bask their tales of triumph. The Aesir will welcome me! My death comes without apology And I welcome the valkryies to summon me home! " -Ragnar Lothbrok

  5. Krákumál
    (Death Song of Ragnar Lodbrok)

    We fought with swords: * when in Gothland I slew an enormous serpent: my reward was the beauteous Thora. Thence I was deemed a man: they called me Lodbrog from that slaughter.*** I thrust the monster through with my spear, with the steel productive of splendid rewards

    We fought with swords: I was very young, when towards the East, in the straights of Eirar, we gained rivers of blood† for the ravenous wolf: ample food for the yellow-footed fowl. There the hard iron sung upon the lofty helmets. The whole ocean was one wound. The raven waded in the blood of the slain.
    † Literally “Rivers of wounds.”—By the yellow-footed fowl is meant the eagle.

    We fought with swords: we lifted high our lances; when I had numbered twenty years, and every where acquired great renown. We conquered eight barons at the mouth of the Danube. We procured ample entertainment for the eagle in that slaughter. Bloody sweat fell in the ocean of wounds. A host of men there lost their lives.

    We fought with swords: we enjoyed the fight, when we sent the inhabitants of Helsing to the habitation of the gods†. We failed up the Vistula. Then the sword acquired spoils: the whole ocean was one wound: the earth grew red with reeking gore: the sword grinned at the coats of mail: the sword cleft the shields asunder.
    † Literally, “to the hall of Odin.”

    We fought with swords: I well remember that no one fled that day in the battle before in the ships Herauder
    fell. There does not a fairer warrior divide the ocean with his vessels. * This prince ever brought to the battle a gallant heart.

    We fought with swords: the army cast away their shields. Then flew the spear to the breasts of the warriors. The sword in the fight cut the very rocks: the shield was all besmeared with blood, before king Rafno fell, our foe. The warm sweat run down from the heads on the coats of mail.

    We fought with swords, before the isles of Indir. We gave ample prey for the ravens to rend in pieces: a banquet for the wild beasts that feed on flesh. At that time all were valiant: it were difficult to single out any one. At the rising of the sun, I saw the lances pierce: the bows darted the arrows from them.

    We fought with swords: loud was the din† of arms; before king Eistin fell in the field. Thence, enriched with golden spoils, we marched to fight in the land of Vals. There the sword cut the painted shields.†† In the meeting of helmets, the blood ran from the wounds: it ran down from the cloven sculls of men.

    We fought with swords, before Boring-holmi. We held bloody shields: we stained our spears. Showers of arrows brake the shield in pieces. The bow sent forth the glittering steel. Volnir fell in the conflict, than whom there was not a greater king. Wide on the shores lay the scattered dead: the wolves rejoiced over their prey.

    We fought with swords, in the Flemings land: the battle widely raged before king Freyr fell therein. The blue steel all reeking with blood fell at length upon the golden mail. Many a virgin bewailed the laughter of that morning. The beasts of prey had ample spoil.

    We fought with swords, before Ainglanes. There saw I thousands lie dead in the ships: we failed to the battle for six days before the army fell. There we celebrated a mass of weapons†. At rising of the sun Valdiofur fell before our swords.

    We fought with swords, at Bardafyrda. A mower of blood rained from our weapons. Headlong fell the palid corpse a prey for the hawks. The bow gave a twanging found. The blade sharply bit the coats of mail: it bit the helmet in the fight. The arrow sharp with poison and all besprinkled with bloody sweat ran to the wound.

    We fought with swords, before the bay of Hiadning. We held aloft magic shields in the play of battle. Then might you see men, who rent shields with their swords. The helmets were mattered in the murmur of the warriors. The pleasure of that day was like having a fair virgin placed beside one in the bed.

    We fought with swords, in the Northumbrian land. A furious storm descended on the shields: many a lifeless body fell to the earth. It was about the time of the morning, when the foe was compelled to fly in the battle. There the sword sharply bit the polished helmet. The pleasure of that day was like killing a young widow at the highest feat of the table.

    We fought with swords, in the isles of the south. There Herthiose proved victorious: there died many of our valiant warriors. In the mower of arms Rogvaldur fell: I lost my son. In the play of arms came the deadly spear: his lofty crest was dyed with gore. The birds of prey bewailed his fall: they loft him that prepared them banquets.

    We fought with swords, in the Irish plains. The bodies of the warriors lay intermingled. The hawk rejoiced at the play of swords. The Irish king did not act the part of the eagle***. Great was the conflict of sword and shield. King Marstan was killed in the bay: he was given a prey to the hungry ravens.

    We fought with swords: the spear resounded: the banners shone† upon the coats of mail. I saw many a warrior fall in the morning: many a hero in the contention of arms. Here the sword reached betimes the heart of my son: it was Egill deprived Agnar of life. He was a youth, who never knew what it was to fear

    We fought with swords: the spear resounded: the banners shone† upon the coats of mail. I saw many a warrior fall in the morning: many a hero in the contention of arms. Here the sword reached betimes the heart of my son: it was Egill deprived Agnar of life. He was a youth, who never knew what it was to fear

    We fought with swords, when Harold fell. I saw him strugling in the twilight of death; that young chief so proud of his flowing locks†: he who spent his mornings among the young maidens: he who loved to converse with the handsome widows. **

    We fought with swords: we fought three kings in the isle of Lindis. Few had reason to rejoice that day. Many fell into the jaws of the wild-beasts. The hawk and the wolf tore the flesh of the dead: they departed glutted with their prey. The blood of the Irish fell plentifully into the ocean, during the time of that slaughter.

    We fought with swords, at the isle of Onlug. The uplifted weapon bit the shields. The gilded lance grated on the mail. The traces of that fight will be seen for ages. There kings marched up to the play of arms. The mores of the sea were stained with blood. The lances appeared like flying dragons.

    We fought with swords. Death is the happy portion of the brave†, for he stands the foremost against the storm of weapons. He, who flies from danger, often bewails his miserable life. Yet how difficult is it to rouze up a coward to the play of arms? The dastard feels no heart in his bosom.

    We fought with swords. Young men should march up to the conflict of arms: man should meet man and never give way. In this hath always consisted the nobility of the warrior. He, who aspires to the love of his mistress, ought to be dauntless in the clash of arms.

    We fought with swords. Now I find for certain that we are drawn along by fate. Who can evade the decrees of destiny? Could I have thought the conclusion of my life reserved for Ella; when almost expiring I shed torrents of blood? When I launched forth my ships into the deep? When in the Scottish gulphs I gained large spoils for the wolves?

    We fought with swords: this fills me still with joy, because I know a banquet is preparing by the father of the gods. Soon, in the splendid hall of Odin, we shall drink Beer † out of the sculls of our enemies.
    A brave man shrinks not at death. I shall utter no repining words as I approach the palace of the gods.

    We fought with swords. O that the sons of Aslauga† knew; O that my children knew the sufferings of their father! that numerous serpents filled with poison tear me to pieces! Soon would they be here: soon would they wage bitter war with their swords. I gave a mother to my children from whom they inherit a valiant heart.

    We fought with swords. Now I touch on my last moments. I receive a deadly hurt from the viper. A serpent inhabits the hall of my heart. Soon mall my sons black their swords in the blood of Ella. They wax red with fury: they burn with rage. Those gallant youths will not rest till they have avenged their father.

    We fought with swords. Battles fifty and one have been fought under my banners. From my early youth I learnt to dye my sword in crimson: I never yet could find a king more valiant than myself. The gods now invite me to them. Death is not to be lamented.

    ‘Tis with joy I cease. The goddesses of destiny are come to fetch me. Odin hath sent them from the habitation of the gods. I mail be joyfully received into the highest seat; I mall quaff full goblets among the gods. The hours of my life are past away. I die laughing.

  6. Very powerfull song! Very sad moment… made me really think to myself repeating: "no, please dont dont dont"… really amazing…

    As for the cross, i think Athelstan broke Ragnar's way to see the world, maybe giving him the insight that its all man truths here and there, both even questioned his own beliefs. Ragnar realized himself as a man in one of many sides of cultures, gods and ways of see things… so he ascended by that and started to feel alone and by the end feeling little of the wins and sad about his losses along the way, Athelstan is the true friend coming from another world, giving him the key to all he was. My way of seeing!

    Great sad powerfull song!

    Skal!

  7. Eigi hugðak orma

    at aldrlagi mínu;

    verðr mjök mörgu sinni

    þats minnst varir sjálfan

    Nú munk nár af bragði

    ok nær dýrum deyja

    Gnyðja mundu grísir

    ef galtar hag vissi

    mér er gnótt at grandi

    grafa inn rönum sínum

    ok harðliga hváta

    hafa mik sogit, ormar

    nú munk nár af bragði

    ok nær dýrum deyja

    Translated

    I did not look to a snake

    to be my bane

    things happen very often to one

    that one thinks of the least.

    Soon now will my body

    die among the beasts.

    The young pigs would squeal

    if they knew the state of the boar

    of the injury done to me

    Snakes dig in my flesh

    stab at me harshly

    and have sucked on me

    soon now will my body

    die among the beasts

  8. Manifest "The Great Replacement" by Brenton Tarrant in English: http://xup.in/dl,55388674

    In German / Deutsch: https://www.xup.in/dl,19787197/Brenton_Tarrant_-_Der_Groe_Austausch.pdf/

    In Norwegian / Norsk: https://anonfile.com/X0p5r6Ubmd/Den_Store_Erstatningen_pdf

    In Portuguese: https://anonfiles.com/45vah1Udm9/A_Grande_Substitui_o_pdf

    In Swedish / Svensk: https://anonfile.com/5aY77fTbme/Det_Stora_Utbytet_pdf

    The time of sitting around and await better days to come is over.

  9. Just found out I’m part Scandinavian. I always wondered why this type of music lifted my spirits and motivated me to be a better man. I know now that it’s my blood longing for a return to my roots. Hail Odin and Hail King Ragnar.

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