Auben crown of braids, shimmering, o’er his woad, war-painted face
That has seen afore... battles of vicious foe
Etched deep with furrowed scars, aged weathered mud mask, lattice of lace
Blue piercing eyes of steel that still, trauma tows
Stands proud on Langskip, at longship’s bow, perusing all at sea
Carved dragon head snarls, serpentine coil o’er prow
Carmine and alabaster sails of blood and bone... billow free
Decks flood, precariously, as ocean’s ploughed
Around his neck Thor’s hammer hangs to shield his warrior’s soul
Glints, pride of place, ‘neath Freyr’s gossamer bright beams
Coveting a brave death; to him like siren Valhalla calls
Sanguinary destiny... for him it’d seem
Charging forth through equine waves on oceans of aquamarine
Through torrents of tears, as Rán nets drowned, deceased
Sky sinks its weary blush head, sun bleeding out upon sea’s sheen
Thor’s thunder claps, o’re head, as clouds they crease
Velvet night draws in, twinkling jewels... signposting him to war
‘neath Loki dances ‘pon mast, summons... Slepnir
In jet black sky, shooting stars; or is it Odin’s steed, afar
Come to lead the raid as emerald shores grow near
At last, Isle of Lindisfarne (Holy Island) comes into sight
Landing ransacking siege, ripped book from gemmed sheath
Plundering Priory’s gold, leaving sole scholar to scribe plight
Illuminate gospels, spared... St Cuthbert’s creed
So although Norsemen came and went, the manuscript stayed in tact
Book’s gilt case that was seized, wasn’t treasure you see
T’was fine scriptures of insular art, that lay within... in fact
Sadly literature, bar runes, Vikings lacked.