I swear to thee here, by root, billow and rock,
By the moss on the Bauta-stone,[[7]]
By Mimer’s well, and by Odin’s eye,
And by Mjolner, greatest of all,
That straight to the secret caves I’ll hie,
To the dwarfs, my kinsmen small;
And thence for Sif new tresses I’ll bring
Of gold ere the daylight’s gone,
So that she will liken a field in spring,
With its yellow-flowered garment on.