My dwelling ribbed | with rocks across;
More seemly it were | at thy weaving to stay,
Than another’s husband | here to follow.
[2]. “What wouldst thou have | from Valland here,
Fickle of heart, | in this my house?
Gold-goddess, now, | if thou wouldst know,
Heroes’ blood | from thy hands hast washed.”
Brynhild spake:
[a]3]. “Chide me not, woman | from rocky walls,
Though to battle once | I was wont to go;