I bide helpless
To shake from off me the spells of slumber.

"Hail to the day come back!
Hail, sons of the daylight!
Hail to thee, dark night, and thy daughter!
Look with kind eyes a-down,
On us sitting here lonely,
And give unto us the gain that we long for.

"Hail to the Aesir,
And the sweet Asyniur! (2)
Hail to the fair earth fulfilled of plenty!
Fair words, wise hearts,
Would we win from you,
And healing hands while life we hold."

Then Brynhild speaks again and says, "Two kings fought, one hight Helm
Gunnar, an old man, and the greatest of warriors, and Odin had promised
the victory unto him; but his foe was Agnar, or Audi's brother: and so
I smote down Helm Gunnar in the fight; and Odin, in vengeance for that
deed, stuck the sleep-thorn into me, and said that I should never
again have the victory, but should be given away in marriage; but
thereagainst I vowed a vow, that never would I wed one who knew the
name of fear."

Then said Sigurd, "Teach us the lore of mighty matters!"

She said, "Belike thou cannest more skill in all than I; yet will I
teach thee; yea, and with thanks, if there be aught of my cunning that
will in anywise pleasure thee, either of runes or of other matters that
are the root of things; but now let us drink together, and may the Gods
give to us twain a good day, that thou mayst win good help and fame
from my wisdom, and that thou mayst hereafter mind thee of that which we
twain speak together."

Then Brynhild filled a beaker and bore it to Sigurd, and gave him the
drink of love, and spake--

"Beer bring I to thee,
Fair fruit of the byrnies' clash,
Mixed is it mightily,
Mingled with fame,
Brimming with bright lays
And pitiful runes,
Wise words, sweet words,
Speech of great game.

"Runes of war know thou,
If great thou wilt be!
Cut them on hilt of hardened sword,
Some on the brand's back,
Some on its shining side,
Twice name Tyr therein.

"Sea-runes good at need,
Learnt for ship's saving,
For the good health of the swimming horse;
On the stern cut them,
Cut them on the rudder-blade
And set flame to shaven oar:
Howso big be the sea-hills,
Howso blue beneath,
Hail from the main then comest thou home.

"Word-runes learn well
If thou wilt that