Page:Younger Edda (Anderson, 1880).djvu/216

 The hands shall stop,

The stone shall stand;

Now have I ground

For my part enough.

Yet to the hands

No rest must be given,

'Till Frode thinks

Enough has been ground.

Now hold shall the hands

The lances hard.

The weapons bloody, —

Wake now. Frode!

Wake now, Frode!

If you would listen

To our songs, —

To sayings old.

Fire I see burn

East of the burg, —

The warnews are awake.

That is called warning.

A host hither

Hastily approaches

To burn the king's

Lofty dwelling

No longer you will sit

On the throne of Hleidra

And rule o'er red

Rings and the mill.

Now must we grind

With all our might,

No warmth will we get

From the blood of the slain.

Now my father's daughter

Bravely turns the mill.

The death of many

Men she sees.