Page:The Prose Edda (1916 translation by Arthur Gilchrist Brodeur).pdf/199

 :'Now are we come
 * To the king's abode
 * Of mercy bereft
 * And held as bond-maids;
 * Clay eats our foot-soles,
 * Cold chills us above;
 * We turn the Peace-Grinder:
 * 'T is gloomy at Fródi's.


 * 'Hands must rest,
 * The stone must halt;
 * Enough have I turned,
 * My toil ceases:
 * Now may the hands
 * Have no remission
 * Till Fródi hold
 * The meal ground fully.


 * 'The hands should hold
 * The hard shafts,
 * The weapons gore-stained,&mdash;
 * Wake thou, Fródi!
 * Wake thou, Fródi,
 * If thou wouldst hearken
 * To the songs of us twain
 * And to ancient stories.


 * 'Fire I see burning
 * East of the burg,
 * War-tidings waken,
 * A beacon of warning:
 * A host shall come
 * Hither, with swiftness,
 * And fire the dwellings
 * Above King Fródi.