I know that I hung, on a wind-rocked tree, nine whole
nights, with a spear wounded, and to Odin offered, myself to myself; on
that tree, of which no one knows from what root it springs.
Bread no one gave me, nor a horn of drink, downward I
peered, to runes applied myself, wailing learnt them, then fell down
thence.
Potent songs nine from the famed son I learned of
Bolthorn, Bestla's sire, and a draught obtained of the precious mead,
drawn from Odhrærir.
Then I began to bear fruit, and to know many things,
to grow and well thrive: word by word I sought out words, fact by fact
I sought out facts.
Runes thou wilt find, and explained characters, very
large characters, very potent characters, which the great speaker
depicted, and the high powers formed, and the powers' prince graved:
Odin among the Æsir, but among the Alfar, Dain, and
Dvalin for the dwarfs, Asvid for the Jotuns: some I myself graved.
Knowest thou how to grave them? knowest thou how to
expound them? knowest thou how to depict them? knowest thou how to
prove them? knowest thou how to pray? knowest thou how to offer?
knowest thou how to send? knowest thou how to consume?
'Tis better not to pray than too much offer; a gift
ever looks to a return. 'Tis better not to send than too much consume.
So Thund graved before the origin of men, where he ascended, to whence
he afterwards came.
Those songs I know which the king's wife knows not nor
son of man. Help the first is called, for that will help thee against
strifes and cares.
For the second I know, what the sons of men require,
who will as leeches live.
For the third I know, if I have great need to restrain
my foes, the weapons' edge I deaden: of my adversaries nor arms nor
wiles harm aught.
For the fourth I know, if men place bonds on my limbs,
I so sing that I can walk; the fetter starts from my feet, and the
manacle from my hands.
For the fifth I know, if I see a shot from a hostile
hand, a shaft flying amid the host, so swift it cannot fly that I
cannot arrest it, if only I get sight of it.
For the sixth I know, if one wounds me with a green
tree's roots; also if a man declares hatred to me, harm shall consume
them sooner than me.
For the seventh I know, if a lofty house I see blaze
o'er its inmates, so furiously it shall not burn that I cannot save it.
That song I can sing.
For the eighth I know, what to all is useful to learn:
where hatred grows among the sons of men—that I can quickly assuage.
For the ninth I know, if I stand in need my bark on
the water to save, I can the wind on the waves allay, and the sea lull.
For the tenth I know, if I see troll-wives sporting in
air, I can so operate that they will forsake their own forms, and their
own minds.
For the eleventh I know, if I have to lead my ancient
friends to battle, under their shields I sing, and with power they go
safe to the fight, safe from the fight; safe on every side they go.
For the twelfth I know, if on a tree I see a corpse
swinging from a halter, I can so grave and in runes depict, that the
man shall walk, and with me converse.
For the thirteenth I know, if on a young man I
sprinkle water, he shall not fall, though he into battle come: that man
shall not sink before swords.
For the fourteenth I know, if in the society of men I
have to enumerate the gods, Æsir and Alfar, I know the distinctions of
all. This few unskilled can do.
For the fifteenth I know what the dwarf Thiodreyrir
sang before Delling's doors. Strength he sang to the Æsir, and to the
Alfar prosperity, wisdom to Hroptatyr.
For the sixteenth I know, if a modest maiden's favour
and affection I desire to possess, the soul I change of the white-armed
damsel, and wholly turn her mind.
For the seventeenth I know, that that young maiden
will reluctantly avoid me. These songs, Loddfafnir! thou wilt long have
lacked; yet it may be good if thou understandest them, profitable if
thou learnest them.
For the eighteenth I know that which I never teach to
maid or wife of man, (all is better what one only knows. This is the
closing of the songs) save her alone who clasps me in her arms, or is
my sister.
Now are sung the High-one's songs, in the High-one's
hall, to the sons of men all-useful, but useless to the Jotuns' sons.
Hail to him who has sung them! Hail to him who knows them! May he
profit who has learnt them! Hail to those who have listened to them!
