There was a king in Thule,
Faithful even to his grave,
To whom, when dying, his lover
gave a golden cup.
It was nothing to him,
He emptied him of every feast;
His eyes filled with tears,
As often as he drank from them.
And when he came to die,
He counted his cities in the kingdom,< br/>Grant everything to his heirs,
Not the cup at the same time.
He sat at the king's banquet,
The knights around him,
In the high hall of the fathers
There at the castle by the sea.
The old reveler stood there,
Drank the last of his life,
And threw the holy cup
Down into the flood.
He saw overthrow him, drink,
And sink into the sea,
His eyes would sink,
Never drank another drop.