Foul scorn was my meed | from the crafty maid,
And nought from the woman I won.
* * * * * *
[103]. Though glad at home, | and merry with guests,
A man shall be wary and wise;
The sage and shrewd, | wide wisdom seeking,
Must see that his speech be fair;
A fool is he named | who nought can say,
For such is the way of the witless.
[104]. I found the old giant, | now back have I fared,