Where thousands of th’ Einherier their king’s approach await.
The folding doors, at Syn the porteress’ touch, wide open fly!
Then enters, ’mongst the champions brave, Odin the lord so high.
With kindness he salutes them all, for every one he knew;
A troop of warriors lately slain had just appear’d in view:
Their limbs were all besmear’d with blood, deep gashes on their breast;
They stared as in a dream, and thought: Who could this scene have guest?
Then Eir advanced; she follow’d close Odin the chief so great:
In all their gaping wounds she poured the liquor of the beet;
These closed again, changed to slight scars; then woke the warriors brave,