Called me to the iron rain,
Bade me make the spear-storm rise,
Torfi Vebrandson the wise.
"To such plight the Skald was brought,
Wounder of the walls of thought,
Howsoever many men
Stood, all armed, about us then,
That his hand that knew the oar,
Grip of sword might touch no more;
Yet to me the wound who gave