After that we sailed away south along the coast, and then we met with a great storm raised by witchcraft, and many believed that it had been stirred up by the sons of Hunding. After this we hugged the shore somewhat more closely, and then we saw a man on a rocky promontory which jutted out from the cliffs. He wore a green cloak and dark breeches, and had high laced boots on his feet, and carried a spear in his hand. This man addressed us in the following stanza:
What folk are ye who ride the sea-king's steed,
Mounting the lofty billows, and proceed
Athwart the tossing main? Drenched is your sail,
Nor can your ships against the wind prevail.
Regin replied:
Hither come we with Sigurth o'er the foam,
Whom ocean breezes blow to our last home.—
Full soon the breakers, higher than the prow
Will sink our 'ocean-steeds'; but who art thou?