Hail success-bringing Týr,
superb warrior of the Æsir,
friend of Fenrir and foe of Garmr,
you who lost your fist to uphold an
unjust bargain out of dire necessity,
O God of oaths and righteous judgments,
whose sword hallows the assembly hall,
son of the Jötunn Hymir who owns a
cauldron that contains an ocean of ale,
you who married your lovely sister Zisa,
Goddess that protected the people of
Cisenberg from Roman invasion and
afterwards was honored with a famous
festival, O driver of swift horses, who
travels the highways with clever Mercury
and lion-slaying Hercules, who sails
the seas with the Isis of the Suebi,
in whose sacred grove freedmen
consecrated their fetters, on whose
altars the Getae sacrificed captives,
who is invoked when men grave
victory-Runes on the handles of their
weapons, Týr I pray, remember those
who honor you in this day of soft men
whose word means nothing, and shower
your blessings upon those who are nothing
like the common herd, who would fight in
defense of the land, their people and their
hallowed customs, and especially to preserve
one’s own family and kinfolk.