The Deed Beyond the Deed

Rane o’ the Sword, wha’ men misca’ the fool,

Has turned his galley to the unco’ lands;

Now in the dragon girten prow he stands.

Billows abune the token o’ his rule,

Great fold on fold, the rover’s banner spread.

The hard neives dirl the ash ayint the tide

The war shields klish amain alang the side,

The red moon hammers dune a sea o’ red.

Rane o’ the Sword, nae sairly do we greet

To see your taps’yls scuddin’ dune the west,

Nae muckle love bear we for a’ your breed—

Bluid willna dry like water—yet ’tis meet

We gi’ ye due, that curious unrest

Wha’ gars ye seek the deed beyant the deed.

TRANSLATION:

Rane of the Sword, whom men miscall the fool,

Has turned his galley to the unknown lands;

Now in the dragon-girded prow he stands.

Billows above the token of his rule,

Great fold on fold, the rover’s banner spread.

The hard hands thrust the oars against the tide

The war shields thrum their might along the side,

The red moon hammers down a sea of red.

Rane of the Sword, we sorely weep with fright

To see your topsails scudding down the west,

No great love do we bear for all your breed—

Blood will not dry like water—yet, ’tis right

We give you due, that curious unrest

That goads you seek the deed beyond the deed.