. . . . . . . . | . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . | . . . . . . . .
[12]. Völund home | from his hunting came,
From a weary way, | the weather-wise bowman;
A brown bear’s flesh | would he roast with fire;
Soon the wood so dry | was burning well,
(The wind-dried wood | that Völund’s was).
[[259]]
[13]. On the bearskin he rested, | and counted the rings,
The master of elves, | but one he missed;