And all throughout the fur-gloss shone flicker and glint of gold
That over-rippled the mantle of that forest-master bold.
Girt to his side was Balmung, that broad and sunbright brand,
Of such exceeding sharpness that none might its edge withstand
When lightened through battle’s tempest that helmet-sundering sword.
Well might he be heart-uplifted, that princely hunter-lord!
If I needs must tell the story from end to end all o’er,
I must sing of the goodly quiver and its plenteous arrow-store,
Whose shafts had gold bands clamping the handbreadth heads thereto.
Woe to the mark of that archer, for death on the points of them flew.