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None made me happy with loaf or horn, And there below I looked; I took up the runes, shrieking I took them, And forthwith back I fell.

Nine mighty songs I got from the son Of Bolthorn, Bestla's father; And a drink I got of the goodly mead Poured out from Othrörir.

Then began I to thrive, and wisdom to get, I grew and well I was; Each word led me on to another word, Each deed to another deed.

Runes shalt thou find, and fateful signs, That the king of singers colored, And the mighty gods have made;