I don't know anything indeed, that I don't hate, except eating and singing.

And now, what with those girls' vile unmanly harps and flutes, no one cares to listen to a true rattling warsong.

There they are at it now, with their caterwauling, squealing all together like a set of starlings on a foggy morning! We'll have a song too, to drown the noise.' And he burst out with a wild rich melody, acting, in uncouth gestures and a suppressed tone of voice, the scene which the words described-- An elk looked out of the pine forest He snuffed up east, he snuffed down west, Stealthy and still.
His mane and his horns were heavy with snow; I laid my arrow across my bow, Stealthy and still.
And then quickening his voice, as his whole face blazed up into fierce excitement-- The bow it rattled' the arrow flew, It smote his blade-bones through and through, Hurrah! I sprang at his throat like a wolf of the wood, And I warmed my hands in the smoking blood, Hurrah! And with a shout that echoed and rang from wall to wall, and pealed away above the roofs, he leapt to his feet with a gesture and look of savage frenzy which made Philammon recoil.

But the passion was gone in an instant, and Wulf sat down again chuckling to himself-- 'There--that is something like a warrior's song.

That makes the old blood spin along again! But this debauching furnace of a climate! no man can keep his muscle, or his courage, or his money, or anything else in it.