“Of the Skalds now I’ll ask thee,
The sons of the strain,
By whom deathless honor
He hopes to obtain;
I doubt not, O Raven,
That thou knowest well
The workers of verse
Who at Harald’s court dwell.”
“By their gallant array,
By the armlets they bear
All of gold, you may learn
To their lord they are dear;
Ruddy kirtles they have
That are laced at the skirts,
Swords silver inlaid,
And steely mail shirts:
All gilded their hilts,
Their helmets all graven;
Gold rings on their hands.”
Valkyrie.
“Now read me, O Raven,
Of the Baresarkers—how
Do ye style them who wade
In blood ankle-deep
By no danger dismay’d?”
“Wolf-heathens they hight,
To the thick of the fray
Ruddy shields who do bear,
And with swords clear away;
None but those who know nought
Of terror can stand
When stout and strong men
Shiver buckler with brand.”
Valkyrie.
“Of jesting and game
Our discourse shall be brief;
What does Andadr do,
Harald’s jester in chief?”
Raven.