They have all felt the same admiration for the dauntless old viking, who, even amid the pangs of death, gloried in his past achievements, and looked ardently forward to his sojourn in Valhalla.

There, he fancied, he would still be able to indulge in warfare, his favorite pastime, and would lead the einheriar (spirits of dead warriors) to their daily battles.
"'Cease, my strain! I hear a voice From realms where martial souls rejoice; I hear the maids of slaughter call, Who bid me hence to Odin's hall: High seated in their blest abodes I soon shall quaff the drink of gods.
The hours of life have glided by; I fall, but smiling shall I die.'" _Death Song of Regner Lodbrock_ (Herbert's tr.).
[Sidenote: Founding of London.] Ragnar Lodbrok's sons had reached home, and were peacefully occupied in playing chess, when a messenger came to announce their father's sad end.

In their impatience to avenge him they started out without waiting to collect a large force, and in spite of many inauspicious omens.

Ella, who expected them, met them with a great host, composed not only of all his own subjects but also of many allies, among whom was King Alfred.

In spite of their valor the Normans were completely defeated by the superior forces of the enemy, and only a few of them survived.