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THE STORY OF THE
And the third:
A high hall is there
Reared upon Hindfell,
Without all around it
Sweeps the red flame aloft:
Wise men wrought
That wonder of halls
With the unhidden gleam
Of the glory of gold.
Reared upon Hindfell,
Without all around it
Sweeps the red flame aloft:
Wise men wrought
That wonder of halls
With the unhidden gleam
Of the glory of gold.
Then the fourth sang
Soft on the fell
A shield-may sleepeth
The lime-trees’ red plague
Playing about her:
The sleep-thorn set Odin
Into that maiden
For her choosing in war
The one he willed not.
A shield-may sleepeth
The lime-trees’ red plague
Playing about her:
The sleep-thorn set Odin
Into that maiden
For her choosing in war
The one he willed not.
Go, son, behold
That may under helm
Whom from battle
Vinskornir bore,
From her may not turn
The torment of sleep.
Dear offspring of kings
In the dread Norns’ despite.
That may under helm
Whom from battle
Vinskornir bore,
From her may not turn
The torment of sleep.
Dear offspring of kings
In the dread Norns’ despite.
Then Sigurd ate some deal of Fafnir’s heart, and the remnant he kept. Then he leapt on his horse and rode
