‘Ne’er do we in battle
Creep behind our shields,
The clash of weapons fearing
(E’en so the word-fast woman bade me).
Of yore the necklet-wearer bade me
Carry high my head in battle,
Where sword and shield do meet.’
And Thiodolf likewise sang thus:
‘Never, if e’en the prince himself to earth should fall,
(As God wills so goeth it)