Death foretells the cock's dawn-greeting:
Many a fey man's fair limbs mangles
Soon the sword and spear in meeting.
Hot the Northland blood is beating!
Low and dull weeps Likabong.
The shiv'ring Southron sea-cod angles.
Helga.—Excellent! That's aimed at Hjalti, the son of the bishop,—the cod-biter!
Haf.—Peace,—how many a foe will crave her!
In Woden's spoor the sward is bloody—
Many a head the swords dissever;
Be our host victorious ever!
Silent lastly Likabong—
Women weep for men once ruddy.
Botolf.—Little your skald's song contributes to the honor of the Church as it seems to me, Lady Helga.
Helga (lifts the drinking-horn to her lips; the bishop responds in silence).—To your health, sir bishop! When at Oddi I listened to the opinions of Snorri Sturluson and of Sæmund, my father, about poetics, but I doubt whether they would have thought that Haf had said ought derogatory to the Holy Church, in particularly mentioning in the burthen what Likabong does.
Botolf.—I shall not discuss the more hidden meanings; but in the last stanza Likabong certainly is silent with shame.
Helga.—Far from it, sir bishop! Likabong is Moses, who is praying with outstretched arms whilst Josua is giving battle. When the battle is won his hands drop with weariness.
Botolf (to KOLBEIN THE YOUNG).—Likabong did not weep when you fled from Broddi and the Holy Church at Holar, which was preparing to resist worldly insolence.
Kolbein.—No, excepting it shed tears at having to part with its bishop in such headlong haste!
Helga.—I had heard before that the 'Peace of God' which the bishop let be pealed over the land had saved us from complete rout at the beginning of the feud. But now I hear for the first time that my husband fled before Broddi and the Holy Church of Holar.