In honour of Valfader’s name his horn each warrior drains.
There the good Scalds, who oft the north had gladden’d, touch the chord,
They all like loving brothers sit at Odin’s oaken board.
A Drapa now, a splendid theme, together they rehearse;
With glorious choral harmony resounds th’ heroic verse:
’Twas like to many a bunch of grapes, each from a diff’rent vine
Gather’d, and now together press’d to form a generous wine.
Here neither jealousy intrigues, nor envy gnaws the heart;
Each hears with deference sincere when others aught impart,
And each rejoices like a child who lovely flowers beholds,