[18]. “And keenest of all | when they cut the heart
From the living breast | of the king so brave;
Many woes I remember, | . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . | . . . . . . . .
[19]. “Bridle, Sigurth, | thy steed so black,
Hither let run | thy swift-faring horse;
Here there sits not | son or daughter
Who yet to Guthrun | gifts shall give.
[[544]]
[a]20]. “Remember, Sigurth, | what once we said,