“From the long road now | shall ye hold her not,
That born again | she may never be!
Foul she came | from her mother forth,
And born she was | for wicked deeds,
(Sorrow to many | a man to bring.)”
[46]. From the speaker gloomily | Gunnar turned,
For the jewel-bearer | her gems was dividing; [[435]]
On all her wealth | her eyes were gazing,
On the bond-women slain | and the slaughtered slaves.
[47]. Her byrnie of gold | she donned, and grim