Upon the deep? Nor hinder you could any friend or foe
From that sad venture. Then ye twain did on the waters row;
Ye stretched your arms upon the flood; the sea-ways ye did mete;
O’er billows glided—with your hands them tossed—though fiercely beat
The rolling tides and wintry waves! Seven nights long toilèd ye
In waters’ might; but Breca won—he stronger was than thee!
And to the Hathoræms at morn washed shoreward by the flood,
Thence his loved native land he sought—the Brondings’ country good,
And stronghold fair, where he was lord of folk and burg and rings.
Right well ’gainst thee his vaunt he kept.