Then Skirner rode home. Frey stood forth and hailed him and asked what tidings.
FREY:
Speak, Skirner, speak and tell with speed!
Take not the harness from your steed,
Nor stir your foot, till you have said,
How fares my love with Gymer’s maid!
SKIRNER:
Bar-isle is hight, the seat of love;
Nine nights elapsed, in that known grove
To brave Njord’s, the gallant boy,