THE UNITED AMATEUR FEBRUARY 1916
The Teuton's Battle-Song
"Omnis erat vulnus unda Terra rubefacta calido Frendebat gladius in loricas Gladius findebat clypeos-- Non retrocedat vir a viro Hoc fuit viri fortis nobilitas diu-- Laetus cerevisiam cum Asis In summa sede bibam Vitae elapsae sunt horae Ridens moriar." --REGNER LODBROG
The mighty Woden laughs upon his throne, And once more claims his children for his own. The voice of Thor resounds again on high, While arm'd Valkyries ride from out the sky: The Gods of Asgard all their pow'rs release To rouse the dullard from his dream of peace. Awake! ye hypocrites, and deign to scan The actions of your "brotherhood of Man." Could your shrill pipings in the race impair The warlike impulse put by Nature there? Where now the gentle maxims of the school, The cant of preachers, and the Golden Rule? What feeble word or doctrine now can stay The tribe whose fathers own'd Valhalla's sway? Too long restrain'd, the bloody tempest breaks, And Midgard 'neath the tread of warriors shakes. On to thy death, Berserker bold! And try In acts of Godlike bravery to die! Who cares to find the heaven of the priest, When only warriors can with Woden feast? The flesh of Sehrimnir, and the cup of mead, Are but for him who falls in martial deed: Yon luckless boor, that passive meets his end, May never in Valhalla's court contend. Slay, brothers, Slay! And bathe in crimson gore; Let Thor, triumphant, view the sport once more! All other thoughts are fading in the mist, But to attack, or if attack'd, resist. List, great Alfadur, to the clash of steel; How like a man does each brave swordsman feel! The cries of pain, the roars of rampant rage, In one vast symphony our ears engage. Strike! Strike him down! Whoever bars the way; Let each kill many ere he die today! Ride o'er the weak; accomplish what ye can; The Gods are kindest to the strongest man! Why should we fear? What greater joy than this? Asgard alone could give us sweeter bliss! My strength is waning; dimly can I see The helmeted Valkyries close to me. Ten more I slay! How strange the thought of fear, With Woden's mounted messengers so near! The darkness comes; I feel my spirit rise; A kind Valkyrie bears me to the skies. With conscience clear, I quit the earth below, The boundless joys of Woden's halls to know. The grove of Glasir soon shall I behold, And on Valhalla's tablets be enroll'd: There to remain, till Heimdall's horn shall sound, And Ragnarok enclose creation round; And Bifrost break beneath bold Surtur's horde, And Gods and men fall dead beneath the sword; When sun shall die, and sea devour the land, And stars descend, and naught but Chaos stand. Then shall Alfadur make his realm anew, And Gods and men with purer life indue. In that blest country shall Abundance reign, Nor shall one vice or woe of earth remain. Then, not before, shall men their battles cease, And live at last in universal peace. Through cloudless heavens shall the eagle soar, And happiness prevail forevermore.
--H. P. LOVECRAFT
_Author's Note._
The writer here endeavours to trace the ruthless ferocity and incrediblebravery of the modern Teutonic soldier to the hereditary influence ofthe ancient Northern Gods and Heroes. Despite the cant of thepeace-advocate, we must realise that our present Christian civilisation,the product of an alien people, rests but lightly upon the Teuton whenhe is deeply aroused, and that in the heat of combat he is quite proneto revert to the mental type of his own Woden-worshipping progenitors,losing himself in that superb fighting zeal which baffled the conqueringcohorts of a Caesar, and humbled the proud aspirations of a Varus.Though appearing most openly in the Prussian, whose recent acts ofviolence are so generally condemned, this native martial ardour is by nomeans peculiar to him, but is instead the common heritage of everybranch of our indomitable Xanthochroic race, British and Continentalalike, whose remote forefathers were for countless generations reared inthe stern precepts of the virile religion of the North. Whilst we maywith justice deplore the excessive militarism of the Kaiser Wilhelm andhis followers, we cannot rightly agree with those effeminate preachersof universal brotherhood who deny the virtue of that manly strengthwhich maintains our great North European family in its position ofundisputed superiority over the rest of mankind, and which in its purestform is today the bulwark of Old England. It is needless to say to aneducated audience that the term "Teuton" is in no way connected with themodern German Empire, but embraces the whole Northern stock, includingEnglish and Belgians.
In the Northern religion, Alfadur, or the All-Father, was a vague thoughsupreme deity. Beneath him were among others Woden, or Odin, practicallythe supreme deity, and Woden's eldest son Thor, the God of War. Asgard,or heaven, was the dwelling-place of the Gods, whilst Midgard was theearth, or abode of man. The rainbow, or bridge of Bifrost, whichconnected the two regions, was guarded by the faithful watchmanHeimdall. Woden lived in the palace of Valhalla, near the grove ofGlasir, and had as messengers to earth the Valkyries, armed, mailed andmounted virgins who conveyed from the earth to Asgard such men as hadfallen bravely in battle. Only those who fell thus could taste to thefull the joys of paradise. These joys consisted of alternate feastingand fighting. At Woden's feasts in Valhalla was served the flesh of theboar Sehrimnir, which, though cooked and eaten at every meal, wouldregain its original condition the next day. The wounds of the warriorsin each celestial combat were miraculously healed at the end of thefighting.
But this heaven was not to last forever. Some day would come Ragnarok,or the Twilight of the Gods, when all creation would be destroyed, andall the Gods and men save Alfadur perish. Surtur, after killing the lastof these Gods, would burn up the world. Afterward the supreme Alfadurwould make a new earth or paradise, creating again the Gods and men, andsuffering them ever after to dwell in peace and plenty.