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Thus sang Steinthórr:
Much have I to laud
The ancient-made (though little)
Liquor of the valiant
Load of Gunnlöd's arm-clasp.
Thus sang Úlfr Uggason:
There I think the Valkyrs follow,
And ravens, Victorious Odin
To the blood of holy Baldr.
With old tales the hail was painted.
Thus sang Egill Skallagrímsson:
No victims for this
To Víli's brother,
The High-God, I offer,
Glad to behold him; [101]
Yet has Mímir's friend
On me bestowed
Amends of evil
Which I account better.
He has given me the art—
He, the Wolf's Opposer,
Accustomed to battle,—
Of blemish blameless.
Here he is called High God, and Friend of Mímir, and Adversary of the
Wolf.
Thus sang Refr:
Swift God of Slain, that wieldeth
The snowy billow's wave-hawks,
The ships that drive the sea-road,
To thee we owe the dwarves' drink.
Thus sang Einarr Tinkling-Scale:
'T is mine to pour the liquor
Of the Host-God's mead-cask freely
Before the ships' swift Speeder:
For this I win no scorning.
Thus sang Úlfr Uggason:
His steed the lordly Heimdallr
Spurs to the pyre gods builded
For the fallen son of Odin,
The All-Wise Raven-Ruler. [102]
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