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THE LAY OF SIGURD.
191
“Full enow are death-doomed,
Fain are we to live yet,
Maids of the hall
All meet work winning.”

From her wise heart at last
The linen-clad damsel,
The one of few years
Gave forth the word:
“I will that none driven
By hand or by word,
For our sake should lose
Well-loved life.

“Thou on the bones of you
Surely shall burn,
Less dear treasure
At your departing
Nor with Menia’s Meal[1]
Shall ye come to see me.”

“Sit thee down, Gunnar,
A word must I say to thee
Of the life’s ruin
Of thy lightsome bride—
—Nor shall thy ship
Swim soft and sweetly
For all that I
Lay life adown.

  1. “Menia’s Meal—” periphrasis for gold.