-- Leo's gemini proxy
-- Connecting to vigrey.com:1965...
-- Connected
-- Sending request
-- Meta line: 20 text/gemini; charset=UTF-8; lang=en
The Lee M. Hollander, Ph.D. translation of the Havamal into English was published in 1928 in the first edition print of "The Poetic Edda". Because this translation was published before 1964 and because it was not renewed for copyright protection, it is in the Public Domain in the United States.
The stanzas in the Lee M. Hollander, Ph.D. translation of the Havamal into English get a little out of order, so to remedy this, I put the Codex Regius manuscript stanza number(s) in parentheses if they do not match the stanza number of the translation. As an example, Havamal stanza 138 in the Codex Regius manuscript is stanza 139 in this translation, so the stanza number in this page will be "139 (138)".
> Have thy eyes about thee when thou enterest a door,
> be wary alway, be watchful alway;
> for one never knoweth when need will be
> to meet hidden foe in the hall.
> All hail to the giver! A guest hath come:
> say now where shall he sit?
> In haste is he to the hall who cometh
> to find at the fire a friend.
> The warmth seeketh who hath wandered long
> and is numb about the knees;
> meat and dry clothes the man needeth
> over the fells who hath fared.
> A drink needeth to full dishes who cometh,
> a towel, and the prayer to partake;
> good bearing eke, to be well liked
> and be bidden to banquet again.
> Of his wit hath need who widely fareth --
> a dull wit will do at home;
> a laughingstock he who lacketh words
> amongst smart wits when he sits.
> To be bright of brain let no man boast,
> but take good heed of his tongue;
> the sage and silent come seldom to grief
> as they fare amongst folk in the hall.
> [More faithful friend findest thou never
> than shrewd head on thy shoulders.]
> The wary guest to wassail who comes
> listeneth that he may learn,
> openeth his ears, casts his eyes about;
> thus wards him the wise man 'gainst harm.
> Happy is he who hath won him
> the love and liking of all;
> for hard it is one's help to seek
> from the mind of another man.
> Happy is he who hath won him
> both winning ways and wisdom;
> for ill led is oft who asketh help
> from the wit and words of another.
> Better burden bearest thou nowise
> than shrewd head on they shoulders;
> in good stead will it stand amongst stranger folk,
> and shield when unsheltered thou art.
> Better burden bearest thou nowise
> than shrewd head on they shoulders;
> but with worser food farest thou never
> than an overmuch of mead.
> For good it is not, though good it is thought,
> mead for the sons of men;
> the deeper he drinks the dimmer grows
> the mind of many a man.
> The heron of heedlessness hovers o'er the feast,
> and stealeth the minds of men.
> With that fowl's feathers fettered I was
> when I was Gunnloth's guest.
> Drunk I became, dead drunk, forsooth,
> in the hall of hoary Fialar;
> that bout is best from which back fetches
> each man his mind full clear.
> Let a king's offspring be sparing in words,
> and bold in battle;
> glad and wholesome the hero be
> till comes his dying day.
> The unwise man thinks that he aye will live
> if from fighting he flees;
> but the ails and aches of old age come,
> though spears have spared him.
> The fool doth gape when to folks he cometh,
> he mumbleth and mopeth about;
> soon is seen, when his swill he had,
> what the mind of the man is like.
> Only he is aware who hath wandered much,
> and far hath been afield;
> what mind doth move every man that liveth --
> if he be not wanting in wit.
> The cup spurn not, yet be sparing withal:
> say what is needful, or naught;
> for ill breeding upbraids thee no man
> if soon thou goest to sleep.
> The greedy guest gainsays his head
> and eats until he is ill;
> his belly oft maketh a butt of a man
> on bench 'midst the sage when he sits.
> The herd do know when from home they shall,
> and gang from the grass to their stalls;
> but the unwise man will not ever learn
> how much his maw will hold.
> The ill-minded man who meanly thinks,
> fleers at both foul and fair;
> he knowest not, as know he ought,
> that he is not free from flaws.
> The unwise man waketh all night,
> thinking of this and that --
> tosses, sleepless, and is tired at morn:
> nor lighter for that his load.
> The unwise man weeneth that all
> wo laugh with him, like him, too;
> nor seeth their scorn, though they sneer at him,
> on bench 'midst the sage when he sits.
> The unwise man weeneth that all
> that laugh with him, like him, too;
> findeth he then, when to thing he cometh,
> few spokesman to speed his cause.
> The unwise m an weens from all-knowing,
> since from harm he is far at home;
> but knows not ever what answer to make
> when others ask him aught.
> The unwise man amongst others who cometh,
> let him be sparing of speech;
> for no one knoweth that naught is in him,
> but he opens his mouth too much.
> Clever is he who is keen to ask,
> and eke to answer, all men;
> 'tis hard to hide from the hearing of men
> what is on every one's lips.
> Much at random oft rambleth he
> whose tongue doth ever tattle;
> a talker's tongue, unless tamed it be,
> will often work him woe.
> No mock make thou of any man,
> at a drinking bout though it be;
> he knowing weens him whom no one hath asked,
> and dry-shod hies him home.
> A wise man he who hies him betimes
> from the man whom he has mocked;
> for at table who teases can never tell
> what foe he might have to fight.
> Many a man meaneth no ill,
> yet teases the other at table;
> strife will ever start among men
> when guest clashes with guest.
> An early meal aye a man should get him,
> lest famished he come to the feast;
> he sits and stuffs as thought starved he were,
> and naught he says to his neighbours.
> To false friend aye a far way 'tis,
> though his roof be reared by the road;
> to stanch friend aye a straight way leadeth,
> though far he have fared from thee.
> Get thee gone betimes; a guest should not
> stay too long in one stead;
> life groweth loath if too long one sitteth
> on bench, though in he was bidden.
> One's home is best, though hut it be:
> there a man is master and lord;
> though but two goats thine and a thatched roof,
> 'tis far better than beg.
> One's home is best thought a hut it be:
> there a man is master and lord;
> his heart doth bleed who has to beg
> the meat for his every meal.
> From his weapons away no one should ever
> stir one step on the field;
> for no one knoweth when need might have
> on a sudden a man of his sword.
> Of his worldly goods which he gotten hath
> let a man not stint overmuch;
> oft is lavished on foe what for friend was saved,
> for matters go often amiss.
> So free-handed never found I a man
> but would gladly take what is given;
> not of his goods so ungrudging ever,
> to forego what is given him.
> With weapons and weeds should friends be won,
> as the wise man knoweth full well;
> those who give to each other will aye be friends,
> once they meet half-way.
> To his friend a man should show friendship aye,
> and pay back gift for gift;
> laughter for laughter he learn to give,
> and eke lesing for lies.
> To his friend a man should bear friendship aye, --
> to him and the friend of his friend
> but this foeman's friend befriend thou never,
> (and keep thee aloof from his kin).
> If friend thou hast whom faithful thou deemest,
> and wishest to win him for thee;
> open thy heart to him nor withhold thy gifts,
> and fare to find him often.
> If another there be whom ill thou trustest,
> yet wouldest win him for the;
> speak fair to him though false thou meanest,
> and pay him lesing for lies.
> And eke this heed: if ill thou trust one,
> and hollow-hearted his speech;
> thou shalt laugh with him and lure him on,
> and let him have tit for tat.
> Young was I once and went alone,
> and wandering lost my way;
> when a friend I found I felt me rich:
> man is gladdened by men.
> He who giveth gladly a goodly life leadeth,
> and seldom hath he sorrow;
> but the churlish wight is chary of all,
> and grudgingly parts with his gifts.
> In the fields as I fared (for fun) I hung
> my weeds on two wooden men;
> they were reckoned folks when the rags they wore:
> naked, a man is naught.
> The fir-tree dies in the field that stands, --
> shields it nor bark nor bast;
> thus eke the man who by all is shunned:
> why should he linger in life?
> Than fire hotter for five days burneth
> love between friends that are false;
> it dieth down when dawneth the sixth,
> then all the sweetness turns sour.
> Not great things, needs, give to a man:
> bringeth thanks oft a little thing.
> with half a loaf and a half-drained cup
> I won me oft worthy friend.
> A little lake hath but little sand:
> but small the mind of man;
> not all men are equally wise,
> each wight wanteth somewhat.
> Middling wise every man should be:
> beware of being too wise;
> for he is hardly happiest in life
> who knoweth more than is needful.
> Middling wise every man should be:
> beware of being too wise;
> for wise man's heart is happy seldom,
> if too great the wisdom he won.
> Middling wise every man should be:
> beware of being too wise;
> his fate let no one beforehand know
> who would keep his heart from care.
> Kindles brand from brand, and burns till all burnt it is;
> thus fire is kindled from fire;
> by the words of his mouth a man is known,
> but from his dullness a dullard.
> Betimes must rise who would take another's
> life and win his wealth;
> lying wolf never got the lamb,
> nor sleeping wight slew his foe.
> Betimes must rise who few reapers has,
> and see to the work himself;
> much will miss in the morn who sleeps;
> for the brisk the race is half-run.
> What lathes and logs will last him out,
> a man may reckon aright;
> and of wood to warm him how much he may want
> for many a winter month.
> Well-groomed and washed wend thee to the thing,
> though thy clothes be not the best;
> of thy shoes and breeks be not ashamed,
> and still less of they steed.
> With lowered head sweeps, to the sea when he comes,
> the eagle o'er the ocean-stream;
> thus eke the man among a throng
> who finds but few to befriend him.
> Both ask and answer let every one
> who wishes to be deemed wise;
> let one know it, nor none other;
> if three know, thousands will.
> A wise man will not overweening be,
> and stake too much on his strength;
> when the mighty are met to match their thews,
> 'twill be found that first is no one.
> (Watchful and wary everyone should be,
> nor put too much trust in a friend;)
> his reckless words, rashly uttered,
> have undone oft a doughty man.
> Too late by far to some feasts I came;
> to others, all too soon;
> the beer was drunk, or yet unbrewed;
> never hits it the hated one right.
> Here or there would they have me in,
> if no meat at the meal I craved,
> or hanged two hams in my good friend's home,
> after eating one of his own.
> A bonny fire is a blessing to man,
> and eke the sight of the sun,
> his hearty health, if he holds it well,
> and to live one's life without shame.
> All undone is no one though dreary his fate:
> some with good sons are blessed,
> and some with kinsmen, or with coffers full,
> and some with deeds well-done.
> Better alive (than lifeless be):
> too quick fall aye the cattle;
> the hearthfire burned for the happy heir, --
> out-doors a dead man lay.
> May the halt ride a horse, and the handless be herdsman,
> the deaf man may doughtily fight,
> a blind man is better than a burned one, aye:
> of what good is a good man dead?
> To have a son is good, late-got though he be,
> and born when buried his father;
> stones seest thou seldom set by the roadside
> but by kith raised over kinsman.
> It takes two to fight; oft tongue is head's bane;
> a fist I fear 'neath every furry coat.
> Of the night is fain whose knapsack is full;
> [short are the yards of a ship:]
> fickle are the nights in fall;
> there's both fair and foul in five days' time --
> still more so within a month.
> He who knoweth nothing knoweth not, either,
> how wealth may warp a man's wit;
> one hath wealth when wanteth another,
> though he bear no blame himself.
> A full-stocked farm had the Fatling's sons:
> now they stoop at the beggar's staff;
> in a twinkling fleeth trothless wealth,
> it is the ficklest of friends.
> Cattle die and kinsmen die,
> thyself eke soon wilt die;
> but fair fame will fade never,
> I ween, for him who wins it.
> Cattle die and kinsmen die,
> thyself eke soon wilt die;
> one thing, I ween, will wither never:
> the doom over each one dead.
> The unwise man, once he calls his own
> wealth or the love of a woman --
> his overweening waxeth but his wit never, --
> he haughtily hardens his heart.
> * * * *
> 'Tis readily found if the runes thou ask,
> made by mighty gods,
> known to holy hosts,
> and dyed deep red by Othin:
> that least said is soonest mended.
> At eve praise the day, when burned down, a torch,
> a wife when wedded, a weapon when tried,
> ice when over it, ale when 'tis drunk.
> Fell wood in the wind, in fair weather row out,
> dally with girls in the dark -- the day's eyes are many,
> choose a shield for shelter, a ship for speed,
> a sword for keenness, a girl for kissing.
> By the fire drink ale, skate on the ice,
> buy a bony steed, a rusty blade,
> feed your horse at home, and your hound in his hutch
> A wench's words let no wise man trust,
> nor trust the troth of a woman;
> for on whirling wheel their hearts are shaped,
> and fickle and fitful their minds
> A brittle bow, a burning fire,
> a gaping wolf, a grunting sow,
> a croaking crow, a kettle boiling,
> a rising sea, a rootless tree,
> A flying dart, a foaming billow,
> ice one night old, a coiled up adder,
> a woman's bed-talk, a broken blade,
> the play of cubs, a king's scion,
> A sickly calf, a self-willed thrall,
> the smooth words of a witch, warriors fresh-slain,
> Thy brother's banesman, though it be on the road,
> a half-burned house, a horse most swift --
> worthless the steed if one foot he breaks --:
> so trusting be no one to trust in these!
> Early-sown acres, let none ever trust,
> nor trust his son too soon:
> undoes weather the one, unwisdom the other:
> risk not thy riches on these.
> The false love of a woman, 'tis like to one
> riding on ice with horse unroughshod --
> a brisk two-year old, unbroken withal --,
> or in raging wind drifting rudderless, --
> like the lame out-running the reindeer on snow-cliff.
> Heed my words now, for I know them both:
> mainsworn are men to women;
> we speak most fair when most false our thoughts,
> for that wiles the wariest wits.
> Fairly shall speak, nor spare his gifts,
> who will win a woman's love, --
> shall praise the looks of the lovely maid:
> he who flatters shall win the fair.
> At the loves of a man to laugh is not meet
> for any one ever;
> the wise oft fall, when fools yield not,
> to the lure of a lovely maid.
> 'Tis not meet for men to mock at what
> befalls full many a one:
> a fair face oft makes fools of the wise
> by the mighty lure of love.
> One's self only knows what is near one's heart,
> each reads but himself aright;
> no sickness seems to sound mind worse
> than to have lost all liking for life.
> "That saw I well when I sat in the reeds,
> waiting the maid I wooed:
> more than body and soul was the sweet maid to me,
> yet worked I my will not with her.
> "Billing's daughter on her bed I found
> sleeping, the sun-bright maid;
> a king's crown I craved not to wear,
> if she let me have her love."
> "At eventide shalt, Othin, come
> if thou wilt win me to wife:
> unmeet it were if more than we two
> know of this naughty thing."
> "Back I went; to win her love
> I let myself be misled;
> for I did think, enthralled by love,
> to work my will with her.
> "When next I came at night-time, then,
> all the warriors found I awake,
> with brands high borne and burning lights:
> thus was my wayfaring wasted.
> "Near morn when I once more did come,
> the folks were sound asleep;
> but a bitch found I the fair one had
> bound fast on her bed!
> "Many a good maid, if you mark it well
> is fickle, though fair her word;
> that I quickly found when the cunning maid
> I lured to lecherous love;
> every taunt and gibe she tried on me,
> and naught I had of her.
> "Glad in his home, to his guest cheerful,
> yet shrewd should one be;
> wise and weighty be the word of his mouth,
> if wise he would be thought.
> A ninny is he who naught can say,
> for such is the way of the witless.
> "The old etin I sought -- now am I back;
> in good stead stood me my speech;
> for with many words my wish I wrought
> in the hall of Suttungs' sons.
> "With an auger I there ate my way,
> through the rocks did make me room!
> over and under were the etins'-ways;
> thus dared I life and limb.
> "Gunnloth gave me, her gold-stool upon,
> a draught of the dear-bought mead;
> an ill reward I her after left
> for her faithful friendship,
> for her heavy heart.
> "Of the well-bought mead I made good use:
> to the wise now little is lacking;
> for Othraerir now up is brought,
> and won for the world of men.
> "Unharmed again had I hardly come
> out of the etins' hall,
> if Gunnloth helped not, the good maiden,
> in whose loving arms I lay.
> "The day after, the etins fared
> into Hor's high hall, --
> to ask after Bolverk: whether the aesir among,
> or whether by Suttung slain.
> "An oath on the ring did Othin swear:
> how put trust in his troth?
> Suttung he swindled and snatched his drink,
> and Gunnloth he beguiled."
> * * * *
> 'Tis time to chant on the sage's chair:
> at the well of Urth
> I saw, but naught said, I saw and thought,
> listened to Hor's lore;
> of runes I heard men speak readily,
> at the hall of Hor,
> in the hall of Hor,
> and thus I thought them say:
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> at night rise not but to be ready for foe,
> or to look for a spot to relieve thee.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> in a witch's arms thou ought'st not sleep,
> linking thy limbs with hers.
> She will cast her spell that thou car'st not to go
> to meetings where men are gathered;
> unmindful of meat, and mirthless, thou goest,
> and seekest they bed in sorrow.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> beware lest the wedded wife of a man
> thou lure to love with thee.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> on fell or firth if to fare thee list,
> furnish thee well with food.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> withhold the hardships which happen to thee
> from the knowledge of knaves;
> for, know thou, from knaves thou wilt never have
> reward for thy good wishes.
> A man I saw sorely bestead
> through the words of a wicked woman;
> her baleful tongue did work his bane
> though good and unguilty he was.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> if faithful friend thou hast found for thee,
> then fare thou to find him full often;
> overgrown is soon with tall grass and bush
> the trail which is trod by no one.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> a good man seek thou to gain as thy friend,
> and learn to make thyself loved.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> the first be not with a friend to break
> who was faithful found to thee;
> for sorrow eateth the soul of him
> who may not unburthen his mind.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> to bandy words with a babbling fool
> will aye prove witless work.
> For from evil man not ever wilt thou
> get reward for good;
> a good man, though, will gain for thee
> the love and liking of many.
> Then love is mingled when a man can say
> to his bosom-friend all that him burdens;
> few things are worse than fickle mind:
> no friend he who speaks thee but fair.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> not three words shalt with a worse man bandy;
> oft the better man forbears
> when the worse man wounds thee.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> neither shoemaker be nor shaftmaker, either,
> but it be for thyself:
> let the shoe be ill shaped or the shaft not true,
> and they will wish thee woe.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> if wrong was done thee let thy wrong be known,
> and fall on they foes straightaway.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> in ill deeds not ever share,
> but be thou glad to do good.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> look not ever up, when fighting, --
> for mad with fear men then oft grow --
> lest that warlocks bewitch thee.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> if thee list to gain a good woman's love
> and all the bliss there be,
> thy troth shalt pledge, and truly keep:
> no one tires of the good he gets.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> be wary of thee, but not wary o'er much;
> be most wary of ale and of other man's wife,
> and eke, thirdly, lest thieves outwit thee.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> never laugh at or mock, or make game of,
> guest or wayfaring with.
> Those who sit within hall oft hardly know
> of what kin be they who come;
> no man so flawless but some fault he has,
> nor so wicked to be of no worth.
> [Both foul and fair are found among men,
> blended within their breasts.]
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> at hoary singer sneer thou never:
> there is sense oft in old men's saws;
> oft wisdom cometh out of withered bag
> that hangs 'mongst the hides,
> and dangles 'mongst the skins drying
> under roof, with the rennet.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> beshrew not the stranger, nor show him the door,
> but rather do good to the wretched.
> That bar must be strong which unbars the door
> to each and every one:
> give the beggar something lest he bear thee ill-will
> and wish thee all manner of mischief.
> Hear thou, Loddfafnir, and heed it well,
> learn it, 'twill lend thee strength,
> follow it, 'twill further thee:
> when ale thou drinkest choose earth for thee;
> [for earth is good 'gainst ale, 'gainst ague, fire,
> 'gainst straining, acorns, 'gainst witchery, steel,
> 'gainst house-strife, the elder, 'gainst hate, the moon,
> 'gainst rabies, earth-worms, 'gainst ill luck, runes --]
> for earth takes the waters all.
> Now Hor's sayings in the hall are spoken, --
> of help to the sons of men,
> of harm to the sons of etins;
> hail to whoever spoke them,
> hail to whoever knows them!
> Gain they who grasp them,
> happy they who heed them!
> * * * *
> I ween that I hung on the windy tree
> all of nights nine,
> wounded by spear, bespoken to Othin,
> bespoken myself to myself,
> [upon that tree of which none telleth
> from what roots it doth rise.]
> Neither horn they upheld nor handed me bread;
> I looked below me -- aloud I cried --
> fetched up the runes and fell back then.
> From the son of Bolthorn, Bestla's father,
> I mastered mighty songs nine,
> and a drink I had, of the dearest mead,
> got from out of Othraerir.
> Then began I to grow and gain in insight,
> to wax and to feel right well;
> one word grew out of the other word,
> one work out of the other.
> Runes wilt thou find, and rightly read them,
> deep-red dyed by Othin,
> made by the holy hosts,
> runes, which are mighty, runes which are matchless,
> which are wrought by Ragna-Hropt.
> Othin among aesir, for alfs, Dain,
> Dvalin for the dwarfs,
> Alsvith among etins, (but for earth-borne men)
> wrought I some myself.
> Know'st how to write, know'st how to read,
> know'st how to dye, know'st how to delve,
> know'st how to ask, know'st how to offer,
> know'st how to speed, know'st how to spend?
> Better unasked than offered overmuch;
> for aye doth a gift look for gain;
> thus did Othin write ere the earth began,
> when up he rose in after time.
> Those spells I know which the spouses of kings
> wot not, nor earthly wight:
> 'Help' one is hight, with which holpen thou'lt be
> in sorrow and care and sickness.
> That other I know which all will need
> who leeches list to be:
> (on the bark scratch them of bole in the wood
> whose boughs bend to the east).
> That third I know, if my need be great
> to fetter a foeman fell:
> I can dull the swords of deadly foes,
> that nor wiles nor weapons avail.
> That fourth I know, if foemen have
> fettered me hand and foot:
> I chant a charm the chains to break,
> so the fetters fly off my feet,
> and off my hands the halter.
> That fifth I know, if from foeman's hand
> I see a spear sped into throng,
> never so fast it flies but its flight I can stay,
> once my eye lights on it.
> That sixth I know, if me some one wounds
> with runes on moist root written;
> or rouses my wrath by reckless speech:
> him blights shall blast, not me.
> That seventh I know, if o'er sleepers' heads
> I behold a hall on fire:
> however bright the blaze I can beat it down --
> that mighty spell I can speak.
> That eighth I know which to all men is
> needful, and good to know:
> when hatred runs high, heroes among,
> their strife I can settle full soon.
> That ninth I know: if need there be
> to guard a ship in a gale,
> the wind I can calm, and the waves also,
> and wholly soothe the sea.
> That tenth I know, if night-hags sporting
> I scan aloft in the sky:
> I scare them with spells so they scatter abroad,
> heedless of their hides,
> heedless of their haunts.
> That eleventh I know, if I am to lead
> old friends to the fray:
> under buckler I chant that briskly they fare
> hale and whole to battle,
> and hale wend to their home:
> hale whereever they are.
> That twelfth I know, if on tree I see
> a hanged one hoisted on high:
> thus I write and the runes I stain
> that down he drops
> and tells me his tale.
> That thirteenth I know if a thane's son I shall
> wet with holy water:
> never will he fall, though the fray be hot
> never sink down, wounded by sword.
> That fourteenth I know, if to folk I shall
> sing and say of the gods:
> aesir and alfs know I altogether --
> of unlearned few have that lore.
> That know I fifteenth which Thiothraerir sang,
> the dwarf, before Delling's door:
> gave to aesir strength, to alfs victor
> by his song, and insight to Othin.
> That sixteenth I know, if I seek me some maid,
> to work my will with her:
> the white-armed woman's heart I bewitch,
> and toward me I turn her thoughts.
> That seventeenth I know, (if the slender maid's love
> I have, and hold her to me:
> thus I sing to her) that she hardly will
> leave me for other man's love.
> In this lore wilt thou, Loddfafnir, be
> in need anon and ever:
> thy weal were it, if this wisdom thine --
> 'tis helpful, if heeded,
> 'tis needful, if known.
> That eighteenth I know which to none I will tell,
> neither maid nor man's wife --
> 'tis best warded if but one know it:
> this speak I last of my spells --
> but only to her in whose arms I lie,
> or else to my sister also.
-- Response ended
-- Page fetched on Mon May 20 14:38:31 2024