To the earls at the end the ale-vessel carried,
Whom Freaware I heard then hall-sitters title,
When nail-adorned jewels she gave to the heroes:
Gold-bedecked, youthful, to the glad son of Froda
Her faith has been plighted; the friend of the Scyldings,
The guard of the kingdom, hath given his sanction,[4]
And counts it a vantage, for a part of the quarrels,
A portion of hatred, to pay with the woman.
[5]Somewhere not rarely, when the ruler has fallen,
The life-taking lance relaxeth its fury