Walhalla

It seemed to him as if his heaven—the savage Walhalla of his Saxon or Danish berserker race—were opened before him.

The whole landscape was a hideous Walhalla, a fit abode for the savage giant gods of the old Scandinavians.

None but the warrior, who has fought long and well, enjoys the long dreamt-of mead of Walhalla.

And there in this dim, ghostly Walhalla they sit like the Grecian gods, and drink mead instead of ambrosia and nectar.

He saw Walhalla, too, crowning the Danube with the genius of Germany, as mighty as the stream itself.