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 Foul scorn was my meed from the crafty maid, And nought from the woman I won.

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.

I found the old giant, now back have I fared, Small gain from silence I got; Full many a word, my will to get, I spoke in Suttung's hall.

The mouth of Rati made room for my passage, And space in the stone he gnawed;