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HOVAMOL (THE BALLAD OF THE HIGH ONE)

1.  Within the gates   |   ere a man shall go,
      (Full warily let him watch,)
      Full long let him look about him;
    For little he knows   |   where a foe may lurk,
      And sit in the seats within.

2.  Hail to the giver!   |   a guest has come;
      Where shall the stranger sit?
    Swift shall he be   |   who with swords shall try
      The proof of his might to make.

3.  Fire he needs   |   who with frozen knees
      Has come from the cold without;
    Food and clothes   |   must the farer have,
      The man from the mountains come.

4.  Water and towels   |   and welcoming speech
      Should he find who comes to the feast;
    If renown he would get,   |   and again be greeted,
      Wisely and well must he act.

5.  Wits must he have   |   who wanders wide,
      But all is easy at home;
    At the witless man   |   the wise shall wink
      When among such men he sits.

6.  A man shall not boast   |   of his keenness of mind,
      But keep it close in his breast;
    To the silent and wise   |   does ill come seldom
      When he goes as guest to a house;
    (For a faster friend   |   one never finds
      Than wisdom tried and true.)

7.  The knowing guest   |   who goes to the feast,
      In silent attention sits;
    With his ears he hears,   |   with his eyes he watches,
      Thus wary are wise men all.

8.  Happy the one   |   who wins for himself
      Favor and praises fair;
    Less safe by far   |   is the wisdom found
      That is hid in another’s heart.

9.  Happy the man   |   who has while he lives
      Wisdom and praise as well,
    For evil counsel   |   a man full oft
      Has from another’s heart.

10. A better burden   |   may no man bear
      For wanderings wide than wisdom;
    It is better than wealth   |   on unknown ways,
      And in grief a refuge it gives.

11. A better burden   |   may no man bear
      For wanderings wide than wisdom;
    Worse food for the journey   |   he brings not afield
      Than an over-drinking of ale.

12. Less good there lies   |   than most believe
      In ale for mortal men;
    For the more he drinks   |   the less does man
      Of his mind the mastery hold.

13. Over beer the bird   |   of forgetfulness broods,
      And steals the minds of men;
    With the heron’s feathers   |   fettered I lay
      And in Gunnloth’s house was held.

14. Drunk I was,   |   I was dead-drunk,
      When with Fjalar wise I was;
    ’Tis the best of drinking   |   if back one brings
      His wisdom with him home.

15. The son of a king   |   shall be silent and wise,
      And bold in battle as well;
    Bravely and gladly   |   a man shall go,
      Till the day of his death is come.

16. The sluggard believes   |   he shall live forever,
      If the fight he faces not;
    But age shall not grant him   |   the gift of peace,
      Though spears may spare his life.

17. The fool is agape   |   when he comes to the feast,
      He stammers or else is still;
    But soon if he gets   |   a drink is it seen
      What the mind of the man is like.

18. He alone is aware   |   who has wandered wide,
      And far abroad has fared,
    How great a mind   |   is guided by him
      That wealth of wisdom has.

19. Shun not the mead,   |   but drink in measure;
      Speak to the point or be still;
    For rudeness none   |   shall rightly blame thee
      If soon thy bed thou seekest.

20. The greedy man,   |   if his mind be vague,
      Will eat till sick he is;
    The vulgar man,   |   when among the wise,
      To scorn by his belly is brought.

21. The herds know well   |   when home they shall fare,
      And then from the grass they go;
    But the foolish man   |   his belly’s measure
      Shall never know aright.

22. A paltry man   |   and poor of mind
      At all things ever mocks;
    For never he knows,   |   what he ought to know,
      That he is not free from faults.

23. The witless man   |   is awake all night,
      Thinking of many things;
    Care-worn he is   |   when the morning comes,
      And his woe is just as it was.

24. The foolish man   |   for friends all those
      Who laugh at him will hold;
    When among the wise   |   he marks it not
      Though hatred of him they speak.

25. The foolish man   |   for friends all those
      Who laugh at him will hold;
    But the truth when he comes   |   to the council he learns,
      That few in his favor will speak.

26. An ignorant man   |   thinks that all he knows,
      When he sits by himself in a corner;
    But never what answer   |   to make he knows,
      When others with questions come.

27. A witless man,   |   when he meets with men,
      Had best in silence abide;
    For no one shall find   |   that nothing he knows,
      If his mouth is not open too much.
    (But a man knows not,   |   if nothing he knows,
      When his mouth has been open too much.)

28. Wise shall he seem   |   who well can question,
      And also answer well;
    Nought is concealed   |   that men may say
      Among the sons of men.

29. Often he speaks   |   who never is still
      With words that win no faith;
    The babbling tongue,   |   if a bridle it find not,
      Oft for itself sings ill.

30. In mockery no one   |   a man shall hold,
      Although he fare to the feast;
    Wise seems one oft,   |   if nought he is asked,
      And safely he sits dry-skinned.

31. Wise a guest holds it   |   to take to his heels,
      When mock of another he makes;
    But little he knows   |   who laughs at the feast,
      Though he mocks in the midst of his foes.

32. Friendly of mind   |   are many men,
      Till feasting they mock at their friends;
    To mankind a bane   |   must it ever be
      When guests together strive.

33. Oft should one make   |   an early meal,
      Nor fasting come to the feast;
    Else he sits and chews   |   as if he would choke,
      And little is able to ask.

34. Crooked and far   |   is the road to a foe,
      Though his house on the highway be;
    But wide and straight   |   is the way to a friend,
      Though far away he fare.

35. Forth shall one go,   |   nor stay as a guest
      In a single spot forever;
    Love becomes loathing   |   if long one sits
      By the hearth in another’s home.

36. Better a house,   |   though a hut it be,
      A man is master at home;
    A pair of goats   |   and a patched-up roof
      Are better far than begging.

37. Better a house,   |   though a hut it be,
      A man is master at home;
    His heart is bleeding   |   who needs must beg
      When food he fain would have.

38. Away from his arms   |   in the open field
      A man should fare not a foot;
    For never he knows   |   when the need for a spear
      Shall arise on the distant road.

39. If wealth a man   |   has won for himself,
      Let him never suffer in need;
    Oft he saves for a foe   |   what he plans for a friend,
      For much goes worse than we wish.

40. None so free with gifts   |   or food have I found
      That gladly he took not a gift,
    Nor one who so widely   |   scattered his wealth
      That of recompense hatred he had.

41. Friends shall gladden each other   |   with arms and garments,
      As each for himself can see;
    Gift-givers’ friendships   |   are longest found,
      If fair their fates may be.

42. To his friend a man   |   a friend shall prove,
      And gifts with gifts requite;
    But men shall mocking   |   with mockery answer,
      And fraud with falsehood meet.

43. To his friend a man   |   a friend shall prove,
      To him and the friend of his friend;
    But never a man   |   shall friendship make
      With one of his foeman’s friends.

44. If a friend thou hast   |   whom thou fully wilt trust,
      And good from him wouldst get,
    Thy thoughts with his mingle,   |   and gifts shalt thou make,
      And fare to find him oft.

45. If another thou hast   |   whom thou hardly wilt trust,
      Yet good from him wouldst get,
    Thou shalt speak him fair,   |   but falsely think,
      And fraud with falsehood requite.

46. So is it with him   |   whom thou hardly wilt trust,
      And whose mind thou mayst not know;
    Laugh with him mayst thou,   |   but speak not thy mind,
      Like gifts to his shalt thou give.

47. Young was I once,   |   and wandered alone,
      And nought of the road I knew;
    Rich did I feel   |   when a comrade I found,
      For man is man’s delight.

48. The lives of the brave   |   and noble are best,
      Sorrows they seldom feed;
    But the coward fear   |   of all things feels,
      And not gladly the niggard gives.

49. My garments once   |   in a field I gave
      To a pair of carven poles;
    Heroes they seemed   |   when clothes they had,
      But the naked man is nought.

50. On the hillside drear   |   the fir-tree dies,
      All bootless its needles and bark;
    It is like a man   |   whom no one loves,—
      Why should his life be long?

51. Hotter than fire   |   between false friends
      Does friendship five days burn;
    When the sixth day comes   |   the fire cools,
      And ended is all the love.

52. No great thing needs   |   a man to give,
      Oft little will purchase praise;
    With half a loaf   |   and a half-filled cup
      A friend full fast I made.

53. A little sand   |   has a little sea,
      And small are the minds of men;
    Though all men are not   |   equal in wisdom,
      Yet half-wise only are all.

54. A measure of wisdom   |   each man shall have,
      But never too much let him know;
    The fairest lives   |   do those men live
      Whose wisdom wide has grown.

55. A measure of wisdom   |   each man shall have,
      But never too much let him know;
    For the wise man’s heart   |   is seldom happy,
      If wisdom too great he has won.

56. A measure of wisdom   |   each man shall have,
      But never too much let him know;
    Let no man the fate   |   before him see,
      For so is he freest from sorrow.

57. A brand from a brand   |   is kindled and burned,
      And fire from fire begotten;
    And man by his speech   |   is known to men,
      And the stupid by their stillness.

58. He must early go forth   |   who fain the blood
      Or the goods of another would get;
    The wolf that lies idle   |   shall win little meat,
      Or the sleeping man success.

59. He must early go forth   |   whose workers are few,
      Himself his work to seek;
    Much remains undone   |   for the morning-sleeper,
      For the swift is wealth half won.

60. Of seasoned shingles   |   and strips of bark
      For the thatch let one know his need,
    And how much of wood   |   he must have for a month,
      Or in half a year he will use.

61. Washed and fed   |   to the council fare,
      But care not too much for thy clothes;
    Let none be ashamed   |   of his shoes and hose,
      Less still of the steed he rides,
      (Though poor be the horse he has.)

62. When the eagle comes   |   to the ancient sea,
      He snaps and hangs his head;
    So is a man   |   in the midst of a throng,
      Who few to speak for him finds.

63. To question and answer   |   must all be ready
      Who wish to be known as wise;
    Tell one thy thoughts,   |   but beware of two,—
      All know what is known to three.

64. The man who is prudent   |   a measured use
      Of the might he has will make;
    He finds when among   |   the brave he fares
      That the boldest he may not be.

65. .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   |   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
      .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
    Oft for the words   |   that to others one speaks
      He will get but an evil gift.

66. Too early to many   |   a meeting I came,
      And some too late have I sought;
    The beer was all drunk,   |   or not yet brewed;
      Little the loathed man finds.

67. To their homes men would bid me   |   hither and yon,
      If at meal-time I needed no meat,
    Or would hang two hams   |   in my true friend’s house,
      Where only one I had eaten.

68. Fire for men   |   is the fairest gift,
      And power to see the sun;
    Health as well,   |   if a man may have it,
      And a life not stained with sin.

69. All wretched is no man,   |   though never so sick;
      Some from their sons have joy,
    Some win it from kinsmen,   |   and some from their wealth,
      And some from worthy works.

70. It is better to live   |   than to lie a corpse,
      The live man catches the cow;
    I saw flames rise   |   for the rich man’s pyre,
      And before his door he lay dead.

71. The lame rides a horse,   |   the handless is herdsman,
      The deaf in battle is bold;
    The blind man is better   |   than one that is burned,
      No good can come of a corpse.

72. A son is better,   |   though late he be born,
      And his father to death have fared;
    Memory-stones   |   seldom stand by the road
      Save when kinsman honors his kin.

73. Two make a battle,   |   the tongue slays the head;
    In each furry coat   |   a fist I look for.

74. He welcomes the night   |   whose fare is enough.
      (Short are the yards of a ship,)
      Uneasy are autumn nights;
    Full oft does the weather   |   change in a week,
      And more in a month’s time.

75. A man knows not,   |   if nothing he knows,
    That gold oft apes begets;
    One man is wealthy   |   and one is poor,
    Yet scorn for him none should know.

76. Among Fitjung’s sons   |   saw I well-stocked folds,—
    Now bear they the beggar’s staff;
    Wealth is as swift   |   as a winking eye,
      Of friends the falsest it is.

77. Cattle die,   |   and kinsmen die,
      And so one dies one’s self;
    But a noble name   |   will never die,
      If good renown one gets.

78. Cattle die,   |   and kinsmen die,
      And so one dies one’s self;
    One thing I know   |   that never dies,
      The fame of a dead man’s deeds.

79. Certain is that   |   which is sought from runes,
      That the gods so great have made,
      And the Master-Poet painted;
    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   |   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
      .  .  .  .  . of the race of gods:
      Silence is safest and best.

80. An unwise man,   |   if a maiden’s love
      Or wealth he chances to win,
    His pride will wax,   |   but his wisdom never,
      Straight forward he fares in conceit.

        *    *    *    *    *    *

81. Give praise to the day at evening,   |   to a woman on her pyre,
    To a weapon which is tried,   |   to a maid at wedlock,
    To ice when it is crossed,   |   to ale that is drunk.

82. When the gale blows hew wood,   |   in fair winds seek the water;
    Sport with maidens at dusk,   |   for day’s eyes are many;
    From the ship seek swiftness,   |   from the shield protection,
    Cuts from the sword,   |   from the maiden kisses.

83. By the fire drink ale,   |   over ice go on skates;
    Buy a steed that is lean,   |   and a sword when tarnished,
    The horse at home fatten,   |   the hound in thy dwelling.

        *    *    *    *    *    *

84. A man shall trust not   |   the oath of a maid,
      Nor the word a woman speaks;
    For their hearts on a whirling   |   wheel were fashioned,
      And fickle their breasts were formed.

        *    *    *    *    *    *

85. In a breaking bow   |   or a burning flame,
    A ravening wolf   |   or a croaking raven,
    In a grunting boar,   |   a tree with roots broken,
    In billowy seas   |   or a bubbling kettle,

86. In a flying arrow   |   or falling waters,
    In ice new formed   |   or the serpent’s folds,
    In a bride’s bed-speech   |   or a broken sword,
    In the sport of bears   |   or in sons of kings,

87. In a calf that is sick   |   or a stubborn thrall,
    A flattering witch   |   or a foe new slain.

88. In a brother’s slayer,   |   if thou meet him abroad,
    In a half-burned house,   |   in a horse full swift—
    One leg is hurt   |   and the horse is useless—
    None had ever such faith   |   as to trust in them all.

        *    *    *    *    *    *

89. Hope not too surely   |   for early harvest,
      Nor trust too soon in thy son;
    The field needs good weather,   |   the son needs wisdom,
      And oft is either denied.

        *    *    *    *    *    *

90. The love of women   |   fickle of will
    Is like starting o’er ice   |   with a steed unshod,
    A two-year-old restive   |   and little tamed,
    Or steering a rudderless   |   ship in a storm,
    Or, lame, hunting reindeer   |   on slippery rocks.

        *    *    *    *    *    *

91. Clear now will I speak,   |   for I know them both,
      Men false to women are found;
    When fairest we speak,   |   then falsest we think,
      Against wisdom we work with deceit.

92. Soft words shall he speak   |   and wealth shall he offer
      Who longs for a maiden’s love,
    And the beauty praise   |   of the maiden bright;
      He wins whose wooing is best.

93. Fault for loving   |   let no man find
      Ever with any other;
    Oft the wise are fettered,   |   where fools go free,
      By beauty that breeds desire.

94. Fault with another   |   let no man find
      For what touches many a man;
    Wise men oft   |   into witless fools
      Are made by mighty love.

95. The head alone knows   |   what dwells near the heart,
      A man knows his mind alone;
    No sickness is worse   |   to one who is wise
      Than to lack the longed-for joy.

96. This found I myself,   |   when I sat in the reeds,
      And long my love awaited;
    As my life the maiden   |   wise I loved,
      Yet her I never had.

97. Billing’s daughter   |   I found on her bed,
      In slumber bright as the sun;
    Empty appeared   |   an earl’s estate
      Without that form so fair.

98. “Othin, again   |   at evening come,
      If a woman thou wouldst win;
    Evil it were   |   if others than we
      Should know of such a sin.”

99. Away I hastened,   |   hoping for joy,
      And careless of counsel wise;
    Well I believed   |   that soon I should win
      Measureless joy with the maid.

100. So came I next   |   when night it was,
      The warriors all were awake;
    With burning lights   |   and waving brands
      I learned my luckless way.

101. At morning then,   |   when once more I came,
      And all were sleeping still,
    A dog I found   |   in the fair one’s place,
      Bound there upon her bed.

102. Many fair maids,   |   if a man but tries them,
      False to a lover are found;
    That did I learn   |   when I longed to gain
      With wiles the maiden wise;
    Foul scorn was my meed   |   from the crafty maid,
      And nought from the woman I won.

        *    *    *    *    *    *

103. Though glad at home,   |   and merry with guests,
      A man shall be wary and wise;
    The sage and shrewd,   |   wide wisdom seeking,
      Must see that his speech be fair;
    A fool is he named   |   who nought can say,
      For such is the way of the witless.

104. I found the old giant,   |   now back have I fared,
      Small gain from silence I got;
    Full many a word,   |   my will to get,
      I spoke in Suttung’s hall.

105. The mouth of Rati   |   made room for my passage,
      And space in the stone he gnawed;
    Above and below   |   the giants’ paths lay,
      So rashly I risked my head.

106. Gunnloth gave   |   on a golden stool
      A drink of the marvelous mead;
    A harsh reward   |   did I let her have
      For her heroic heart,
      And her spirit troubled sore.

107. The well-earned beauty   |   well I enjoyed,
      Little the wise man lacks;
    So Othrörir now   |   has up been brought
      To the midst of the men of earth.

108. Hardly, methinks,   |   would I home have come,
      And left the giants’ land,
    Had not Gunnloth helped me,   |   the maiden good,
      Whose arms about me had been.

109. The day that followed,   |   the frost-giants came,
       Some word of Hor to win,
      (And into the hall of Hor;)
    Of Bolverk they asked,   |   were he back midst the gods,
      Or had Suttung slain him there?

110. On his ring swore Othin   |   the oath, methinks;
      Who now his troth shall trust?
    Suttung’s betrayal   |   he sought with drink,
      And Gunnloth to grief he left.

        *    *    *    *    *    *

111. It is time to chant   |   from the chanter’s stool;
      By the wells of Urth I was,
    I saw and was silent,   |   I saw and thought,
      And heard the speech of Hor.
    (Of runes heard I words,   |   nor were counsels wanting,
      At the hall of Hor,
      In the hall of Hor;
      Such was the speech I heard.)

112. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    Rise not at night,   |   save if news thou seekest,
      Or fain to the outhouse wouldst fare.

113. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    Beware of sleep   |   on a witch’s bosom,
      Nor let her limbs ensnare thee.

114. Such is her might   |   that thou hast no mind
      For the council or meeting of men;
    Meat thou hatest,   |   joy thou hast not,
      And sadly to slumber thou farest.

115. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    Seek never to win   |   the wife of another,
      Or long for her secret love.

116. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    If o’er mountains or gulfs   |   thou fain wouldst go,
      Look well to thy food for the way.

117. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    An evil man   |   thou must not let
      Bring aught of ill to thee;
    For an evil man   |   will never make
      Reward for a worthy thought.

118. I saw a man   |   who was wounded sore
      By an evil woman’s word;
    A lying tongue   |   his death-blow launched,
      And no word of truth there was.

119. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    If a friend thou hast   |   whom thou fully wilt trust,
      Then fare to find him oft;
    For brambles grow   |   and waving grass
      On the rarely trodden road.

120. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    A good man find   |   to hold in friendship,
     And give heed to his healing charms.

121. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    Be never the first   |   to break with thy friend
      The bond that holds you both;
    Care eats the heart   |   if thou canst not speak
      To another all thy thought.

122. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    Exchange of words   |   with a witless ape
     Thou must not ever make.

123. For never thou mayst   |   from an evil man
      A good requital get;
    But a good man oft   |   the greatest love
      Through words of praise will win thee.

124. Mingled is love   |   when a man can speak
      To another all his thought;
    Nought is so bad   |   as false to be,
      No friend speaks only fair.

125. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    With a worse man speak not   |   three words in dispute,
      Ill fares the better oft
      When the worse man wields a sword.

126. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    A shoemaker be,   |   or a maker of shafts,
      For only thy single self;
    If the shoe is ill made,   |   or the shaft prove false,
      Then evil of thee men think.

127. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    If evil thou knowest,   |   as evil proclaim it,
      And make no friendship with foes.

128. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    In evil never   |   joy shalt thou know,
      But glad the good shall make thee.

129. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    Look not up   |   when the battle is on,—
    (Like madmen the sons   |   of men become,—)
      Lest men bewitch thy wits.

130. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    If thou fain wouldst win   |   a woman’s love,
      And gladness get from her,
    Fair be thy promise   |   and well fulfilled;
      None loathes what good he gets.

131. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    I bid thee be wary,   |   but be not fearful;
    (Beware most with ale   |   or another’s wife,
    And third beware   |   lest a thief outwit thee.)

132. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    Scorn or mocking   |   ne’er shalt thou make
      Of a guest or a journey-goer.

133. Oft scarcely he knows   |   who sits in the house
      What kind is the man who comes;
    None so good is found   |   that faults he has not,
      Nor so wicked that nought he is worth.

134. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    Scorn not ever   |   the gray-haired singer,
      Oft do the old speak good;
    (Oft from shrivelled skin   |   come skillful counsels,
      Though it hang with the hides,
      And flap with the pelts,
      And is blown with the bellies.)

135. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    Curse not thy guest,   |   nor show him thy gate,
      Deal well with a man in want.

136. Strong is the beam   |   that raised must be
      To give an entrance to all;
    Give it a ring,   |   or grim will be
      The wish it would work on thee.

137. I rede thee, Loddfafnir!   |   and hear thou my rede,—
      Profit thou hast if thou hearest,
      Great thy gain if thou learnest:
    When ale thou drinkest,   |   seek might of earth,
    (For earth cures drink,   |   and fire cures ills,
    The oak cures tightness,   |   the ear cures magic,
    Rye cures rupture,   |   the moon cures rage,
    Grass cures the scab,   |   and runes the sword-cut;)
      The field absorbs the flood.

138. Now are Hor’s words   |   spoken in the hall,
      Kind for the kindred of men,
      Cursed for the kindred of giants:
    Hail to the speaker,   |   and to him who learns!
      Profit be his who has them!
      Hail to them who hearken

        *    *    *    *    *    *

139. I ween that I hung   |   on the windy tree,
      Hung there for nights full nine;
    With the spear I was wounded,   |   and offered I was
      To Othin, myself to myself,
    On the tree that none   |   may ever know
      What root beneath it runs.

140. None made me happy   |   with loaf or horn,
      And there below I looked;
    I took up the runes,   |   shrieking I took them,
      And forthwith back I fell.

141. Nine mighty songs   |   I got from the son
      Of Bolthorn, Bestla’s father;
    And a drink I got   |   of the goodly mead
      Poured out from Othrörir.

142. Then began I to thrive,   |   and wisdom to get,
      I grew and well I was;
    Each word led me on   |   to another word,
      Each deed to another deed.

143. Runes shalt thou find,   |   and fateful signs,
      That the king of singers colored,
      And the mighty gods have made;
    Full strong the signs,   |   full mighty the signs
      That the ruler of gods doth write.

144. Othin for the gods,   |   Dain for the elves,
      And Dvalin for the dwarfs,
    Alsvith for giants   |   and all mankind,
      And some myself I wrote.

145. Knowest how one shall write,   |   knowest how one shall rede?
    Knowest how one shall tint,   |   knowest how one makes trial?
    Knowest how one shall ask,   |   knowest how one shall offer?
    Knowest how one shall send,   |   knowest how one shall sacrifice?

146. Better no prayer   |   than too big an offering,
      By thy getting measure thy gift;
    Better is none   |   than too big a sacrifice,
      .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
    So Thund of old wrote   |   ere man’s race began,
    Where he rose on high   |   when home he came.

        *    *    *    *    *    *

147. The songs I know   |   that king’s wives know not,
      Nor men that are sons of men;
    The first is called help,   |   and help it can bring thee
      In sorrow and pain and sickness.

148. A second I know,   |   that men shall need
      Who leechcraft long to use;
    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   |   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
      .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

149. A third I know,   |   if great is my need
      Of fetters to hold my foe;
    Blunt do I make   |   mine enemy’s blade,
      Nor bites his sword or staff.

150. A fourth I know,   |   if men shall fasten
      Bonds on my bended legs;
    So great is the charm   |   that forth I may go,
      The fetters spring from my feet,
      Broken the bonds from my hands.

151. A fifth I know,   |   if I see from afar
      An arrow fly ’gainst the folk;
    It flies not so swift   |   that I stop it not,
      If ever my eyes behold it.

152. A sixth I know,   |   if harm one seeks
      With a sapling’s roots to send me;
    The hero himself   |   who wreaks his hate
      Shall taste the ill ere I.

153. A seventh I know,   |   if I see in flames
      The hall o’er my comrades’ heads;
    It burns not so wide   |   that I will not quench it,
      I know that song to sing.

154. An eighth I know,   |   that is to all
      Of greatest good to learn;
    When hatred grows   |   among heroes’ sons,
      I soon can set it right.

155. A ninth I know,   |   if need there comes
      To shelter my ship on the flood;
    The wind I calm   |   upon the waves,
      And the sea I put to sleep.

156. A tenth I know,   |   what time I see
      House-riders flying on high;
    So can I work   |   that wildly they go,
      Showing their true shapes,
      Hence to their own homes.

157. An eleventh I know,   |   if needs I must lead
      To the fight my long-loved friends;
    I sing in the shields,   |   and in strength they go
      Whole to the field of fight,
      Whole from the field of fight,
      And whole they come thence home.

158. A twelfth I know,   |   if high on a tree
      I see a hanged man swing;
    So do I write   |   and color the runes
      That forth he fares,
      And to me talks.

159. A thirteenth I know,   |   if a thane full young
      With water I sprinkle well;
    He shall not fall,   |   though he fares mid the host,
      Nor sink beneath the swords.

160. A fourteenth I know,   |   if fain I would name
      To men the mighty gods;
    All know I well   |   of the gods and elves,—
      Few be the fools know this.

161. A fifteenth I know,   |   that before the doors
      Of Delling sang Thjothrörir the dwarf;
    Might he sang for the gods,   |   and glory for elves,
      And wisdom for Hroptatyr wise.

162. A sixteenth I know,   |   if I seek delight
      To win from a maiden wise;
    The mind I turn   |   of the white-armed maid,
      And thus change all her thoughts.

163. A seventeenth I know,   |   so that seldom shall go
      A maiden young from me;
    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   |   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
      .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

164. Long these songs   |   thou shalt, Loddfafnir,
      Seek in vain to sing;
    Yet good it were   |   if thou mightest get them,
      Well, if thou wouldst them learn,
      Help, if thou hadst them.

165. An eighteenth I know,   |   that ne’er will I tell
      To maiden or wife of man,—
    The best is what none   |   but one’s self doth know,
      So comes the end of the songs,—
    Save only to her   |   in whose arms I lie,
      Or who else my sister is.