Hávamál, a reading
Episode Stats
Harmful content
Misogyny
8
sentences flagged
Toxicity
27
sentences flagged
Hate speech
51
sentences flagged
Summary
The Hovemog is one of the oldest of the ancient Germanic poems, dating back to before the time of the Old and New Testaments. Written in Old Germanic, it is a collection of proverbs and wise counsels, and tells the story of how Odin won the runes.
Transcript
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This poem follows the Veluspa in the Codex Regius, but is preserved in no other manuscript.
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The first stanza is quoted by Snorri, and two lines of stanza 84 appear in one of the sagas.
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In its present shape, it involves the critique of the text in more puzzles than any other of the Edic poems.
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Without going into detail into the various theories, what happened seems to have been somewhat as follows.
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There existed, from very early times, a collection of proverbs and wise counsels,
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which were attributed to Odin, just as the Biblical Proverbs were to Solomon.
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This collection, which presumably was always elastic in extent,
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To it, however, were added other poems and fragments dealing with wisdom,
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which seemed by their nature to imply that the speaker was Odin.
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Thus, a catalog of runes or charms was tacked on,
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and also a set of proverbs, differing essentially in form from those comprising the main collection.
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Here and there, bits of verse more neatly narrative crept in, and of course, the loose
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structure of the poem made it easy for an eerciter to insert new stanzas almost at will.
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This curious miscellany is what we now have as the Havamor.
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Five separate elements are pretty clearly recognizable.
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The Havamal Proper, stanzas 1-80, a collection of proverbs and counsels for the conduct of life.
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The Lodfavsnismal, stanzas 111-138, a collection of somewhat similar to the first,
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but specific ally addressed to a certain Lodfavnir.
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The Lodfavnir, stanzas 147-165, a collection of charms.
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The love story of Odin and Billing's daughter, stanzas 96-102, with an introductory dissertation on the faithfulness of women in general, stanzas 81-95,
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which probably crept into the first poem and then pulled the story as an apt illustration after it.
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and the story of how Odin got the meat of poetry, the draught, which gave him the gift of tongues from the maiden Gunloth, in stanzas 103-110.
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There is also a brief passage, stanzas 139-146, telling how Odin won the runes, this passage being a natural introduction to the Lothothar, and that was brought into the poem for that reason.
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It is idle to discuss the authorship or date of such a series of accretions at this.
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Parts of it are doubtless among the oldest relics of ancient Germanic poetry.
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Parts of it may have originated at a relatively late period.
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Probably however, most of its component elements go pretty far back, although we have no way
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of telling how or when they first became associated.
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It seems all but meaningless to talk about interpolations in a poem which has developed
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almost solely through the process of piecing together originally unrelated objects and ends.
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The notes, therefore, make only such suggestions as are needed to keep the main divisions of the poem distinct.
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Few gnomic collections in the world's literary history present sounder wisdom more tersely expressed than the Hovemog.
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Like the Book of Proverbs, it occasionally rises to lofty heights of poetry.
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If it presents the worldly wisdom of a violent race, it also shows noble ideals of loyalty, truth, and unfaltering courage.
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Within the gates there a man shall go, for wherely let him watch?
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For little he knows where a foe may lurk, and sit in the seats within.
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Hail to the Giver! A guest has come! Where shall the stranger sit?
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but all is easy at home at the witless man the wise shall wink when among such men he sits
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a man shall not boast of his keenness of mind but keep it close in his breast
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to the silent and wise is ill come seldom when he goes as a guest to the house
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for a faster friend one never finds than wisdom tried and true
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The knowing guest who goes to the feast and silent attention sits.
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With his ears he hears, with his eyes he watches, thus wary are wise men all.
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Happy the one who wins for himself, favor and praise is fair.
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Less safe by far is the wisdom found that is hidden in another's heart.
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Happy the man who is while he lives, wisdom and praise is well.
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evil counsel a man full oft has from another's heart.
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A better burden may no man bear for wanderings wide than wisdom, it is better than wealth
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on unknown ways and in grief a refugee gives.
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A better burden may no man bear for wanderings wide than wisdom, worse food for the journey
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he brings not afield than an over-drinking of ale.
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It's good their lies, then most believe in an ale of mortal men.
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For the more he drinks, the less does man, Of his mind the mastery hold.
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Over beer the bird of forgetfulness broods, And steals the minds of men.
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With the heron's feathers fettered I lay, And in Gullus' house was held.
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Drunk I was, I was dead drunk, When with Fjallar wise I was.
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Tis the best of drinking, If back one brings his wisdom with him home.
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The son of a king shall be silent and wise, and bold in battle as well.
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Gravely and gladly a man shall go till the day of his death is come.
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The sluggard believes he shall live forever if the fight he faces not, but aid shall not
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grant him the gift of peace, though spears may save his life.
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The fool is agape when he comes to the feast, he stammers or else is still, but soon if
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If he gets a drink it is seen, what the mind of a man is like.
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He alone is aware, who has wandered wide, and far aboard has fared.
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How great a mind is guided by him that wealth the wisdom has.
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Shun not the mead, but drink in measure, speak to the point, or be still.
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For a rudeness nun shall rightly blame thee, If soon thy bed thou seekest.
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The greedy man, if his mind be vague, Will eat till sick he is.
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The vulgar man, when among the wise, Scorned by his belly is brought.
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The herds know well, When home they shall fare,
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But the foolish man, his belly's measure, Shall never know aright.
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A paltry man, and poor of mind, at all things ever mocks,
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For never he knows when he ought to know That he is not free from faults.
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The witless man is awake all night, thinking of many things,
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Careworn he is when the morning comes, And his woe is just as it was.
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The foolish man, for friends all those Who laugh at him will hold,
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when among the wise he marks it not through hatred of him they speak.
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The foolish man for friends all those who laugh at him will hold,
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but the truth when he comes to the counsel he learns that few in his favor will speak.
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An ignorant man thinks all he knows when he sits by himself in a corner,
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but never what answer to make he knows when others when questions come.
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A witless man, when he meets with men, had best in silence abide, for no one shall find
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that nothing he knows if his mouth is not open too much.
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Why shall he seem who well can question, and also answer well?
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Nought is concealed that men may say among the sons of men.
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Often he speaks, who never is still, with the words that win no faith.
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The babbling tongue, if a bridle it find not, oft for itself sings ill.
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In mockery no one a man shall hold, although he fare to the feast.
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Wise seems one oft, if not, he is asked, and safely he sits dry-skinned.
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Wise a guest holds it to take to his heels, when mock of another he makes.
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But little he knows who laughs at the feast, though he mocks in the midst of his foes.
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Free of mind are many men, till feasting they mock at their friends.
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To mankind of bane must it ever be, with guests together strive.
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Off should one make an early meal, nor fasting come to the feast.
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Else he sits and chews as if he would choke, and little too able to ask.
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Crooked and far is the road to a foe, though his house on the highway be.
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But wide and straight is the way to a friend, Though far away he fare.
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Forth shall one go, nor stay as a guest In a single spot for ever.
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Love becomes loathing if long one sits By the hearth in another's home.
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Better a house, though a hutt it be, A man is master at home.
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A pair of goats and a patch of roof Are better far than begging.
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Under a house, though a hut it be, A man is master at home.
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His heart is bleeding, who needs must beg, When food he be he fain would have.
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Away from his arms, in the open field, A man should fare not a foot,
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For never he knows when no need for a spear Shall arise on the distant road.
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If wealth a man has won for himself, Let him never suffer in need.
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Oft he saves for a foe what he plans for a friend, for much goes worse than he wish.
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None so free with gifts or food have I found, that gladly he took not a gift, nor one who
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was so widely scattered his wealth, that of recompense hatred he had.
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Friends show glad in each other with arms and garments, as each for himself can see.
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Giver's friendships are longest found, If fair their faith may be.
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To his friend a man a friend shall prove, And gifts with gifts requite.
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But men shall mocking with mockery answer, And fraud with falsehood meet.
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To his friend a man a friend shall prove, To him and the friend of his friend.
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But never a man shall friendship make With one of his foeman's friends.
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If a friend thou hast, whom thou fully wilt trust, and good from him wist get, thy thoughts
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with his mingle, and gifts shalt thou make, and fair to find him oft.
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If another thou hast, whom thou hardly wilt trust, yet good from him wist get, thou shalt
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speak him fair, but falsely think, and fraud with falsehood requite.
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So is it with him whom thou hardly wilt trust, And whose mind thou mayst not know.
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Laugh with him mayst thou, but speak not thy mind, Like gifts to his shalt thou give.
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Young was I once, and wandered alone, And not of the road I knew.
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Rich did I feel with a comrade I found, For man is man's delight.
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The lives of the brave and noble are best, Sorrows they seldom feed,
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But the coward fear of all things feels, And not gladly the niggard gives.
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My garments once in a field I gave To a pair of curvin' poles.
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Heroes they seemed in clothes they had, But the naked man is naught.
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On the hillside drear the fair tree dies, All bootless its needles and bark.
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It is like a man whom no one loves, Why should his life be long?
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Hotter than fire between false friends, This friendship five days burned.
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When the sixth day comes, the fire cools, And ended is all the love.
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No great thing needs a man to give, Oft little will purchase praise.
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With half a loaf and half cup filled, A friend full fast I made.
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A little sand has a little sea, And smaller the minds of men.
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Though all men are not equal in wisdom, Yet half wise only are all.
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A measure of wisdom each man shall have, But never too much let him know.
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Of fairest lives do those men live, Whose wisdom wide is grown.
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A measure of wisdom each man shall have, But never too much let him know.
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For the wise man's heart is seldom happy, If wisdom too great he is won.
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A measure of wisdom each man shall have, But never too much let him know.
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Let no man the fate before him see, for so he is threest from sorrow.
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A brand from a brand is kindled and burned, and fire from fire begotten.
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And man by his speech is known to men, and the stupid by their stillness.
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He must early go forth, who feign the blood of the goods of another would get.
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The wolf that lies idle shall win little meat, or the sleeping man's success.
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He must early go forth, whose workers are few, himself his work to seek.
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Much remains undone for the morning sleeper, for the swift his wealth hath won.
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Of seasoned shingles and strips of bark, for the thatch let one know his need.
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And how much of wood he must have for a month, Or in half a year he will use.
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Washed and fed to the council fair, But care not too much for thy clothes.
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Let none be ashamed of his shoes and hoes, Lest still of the steed he rides,
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When the eagle comes to the ancient sea, He snaps and hangs his head.
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So is a man in the midst of a throng, He few to speak for him he finds.
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To question and answer, must all be ready, Who wish to be known as wise.
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Tell one thy thoughts, but beware of two, All know what is known to three.
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The man who is prudent and measured use, Of the might he has, will make,
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He finds one among the brave he fares, That the boldest he may not be.
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Not for the words that to others one speaks, he will get but an evil gift.
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Too early to many a meeting I came, and some too late have I sought.
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The beer was all drunk, or not yet brewed, little the load man finds.
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To their homes men would bid me hither and yon.
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If at meal time I needed no meat, or would hang two hams in my true friend's house,
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Fire for men is the fairest gift, and power to see the sun.
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Health as well, if a man may have it, and a life not stained with sin.
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All wretched is no man, though never so sick, some from their sons have joy.
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Some win it from kinsmen, and some from their wealth, and some from worthy works.
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It is better to live than to lie a corpse, and the liveman catches the cow.
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I saw flames rise for the richman's pyre, and before his door he lay dead.
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The lame rides a horse, the handless is herdsman, the death in battle is bold.
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A blind man is better than one that is burned, and no good can come of a corpse.
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A son is better, though late he be born, and his father to death have fared.
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Memorily stones seldom stand by the road, save when kinsman honors his kin.
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To make a battle, the tongue slays the head, In each feathery coat a fist I look for.
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He welcomes the knight whose fare is enough, Short of the yards of a ship,
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Uneasier autumn nights, For oft does the weather change in a week,
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A man knows not, and nothing he knows, The gold oft gapes begets.
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One man is wealthy, and one is poor, Yet scorn for him none should know.
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Among fitting sons, saw I well-stocked folds, And now bear they the beggar's staff.
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Wealth as a swift is a weakling eye, A thren is the falsest it is.
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Cattle die, and kinsmen die, and so no one dies oneself.
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But the noble name will never die if good renown one gets.
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Cattle die, and kinsmen die, and so one dies oneself.
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One thing now that never dies, the fame of a dead man's deeds.
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Certain is that which is sought from runes that the gods so great have made,
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In the master poet painted of the race of God, silence is safest and best.
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An unwise man of a maiden's love or wealth he chances to win.
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His pride will wax, but his wisdom never, straightforward he fares in conceit.
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Give praise to the day and evening, to a woman on her pyre, to a weapon which is tried to
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To a maiden with luck, To ice when it is crossed,
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To ale that is drunk, When the gale blows hew wood,
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And the fair winds seek the water, Sport with maidens at dusk,
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For day's eyes are many, When the ships seek swiftness,
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From the shield protection, Cuts from the sword,
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Over ice go on skates, By a steed that is lean, and a sword when tarnished,
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This horse at home fatten the hound in thy dwelling.
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A man shall trust not the oath of a maid, Nor the word a woman speaks,
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For their hearts on a whirling wheel were fashioned, And fickle their breasts were formed.
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In a breaking bow or burning flame, A ravenous wolf or a croaking raven,
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In a grunting boar or a tree with broken roots, In a billowy sea or a bubbling kettle,
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In a flying arrow or falling waters, In ice new formed or the serpent's folds,
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In a bride's bed speech or a broken sword, In the sport of bears or in sons of kings,
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In a calf that is sick or a stubborn thrall, A flattering witch or a foe new slain,
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In a brother's slayer, if thou meet him abroad, In a half-burned house, in a horse full swift,
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One leg is hurt and the horse is useless, None had ever such faith as to trust in them
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Hope not too surely for early harvest, nor trust too soon in thy son.
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The field needs good weather, the sun needs wisdom, and oft is either denied.
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The love of women, fickle of will, is like starting to arise with a steed unshod,
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a two-year-old restive and a little tamed, or steering a rudderless ship in a storm,
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Or lame hunting reindeer on slippery rocks.
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Clear now will I speak, for I know them both, Men false to women are found.
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When fairest we speak, then falsest we thank, Against wisdom we work with deceit.
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Soft words shall he speak, and wealth shall he offer, Who longs for a maiden's love,
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In the beauty praise of the maiden bright He wins whose wooing is best.
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Fault for loving let no man find Ever with any other, oft the wise are fettered
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When fools go free By beauty that breathes desire.
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Fault with another let no man find For what touches many a man,
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Wise men oft into witless fools Are made by mighty love.
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The head alone knows What dwellings near the heart,
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No sickness is worse to one who is wise Than the lack of the longed-for joy.
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This found I myself when I set in the reeds, And long my love awaited,
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As my life, the maiden, wise I loved, yet her I never had.
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Billings daughter I found on her bed, in slumber bright as the sun.
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Empty appeared in Earl's estate, without the form so fair.
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Odin again at evening come, if a woman thou wouldst win.
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Evil it were, if others that we should know of such a sin.
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Away I hastened, hoping for joy and careless of counsel wise
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While I believed that soon I should win measureless joy with the maid
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So came I next, when night it was, the warriors all were awake
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With burning lights and waving brands I learned my luckless way
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At morning then, when once more I came and all were sleeping still
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Foul scorn was my mead from the crafty mind
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The mouth of Lhrati made room for my passage
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So Orthorir now has up been brought to the midst of the men of earth.
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Hardly methinks would I home have come, and left the giant's land.
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Had not Gunloth helped me, the maiden good, whose arms about me had been?
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The day that followed, the frost giants came, some word of war to win.
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A bulwark they asked, where he back midst the gods, or had Sulting slayed him there?
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On his ring swore Odin the oath, methinks, who now his throat shall trust.
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Sutin's betrayal he sought with drink, and Gunnut to grief he left.
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It is a time to chant from the chanter's stool, by the wells of Urd I was.
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I saw and was silent, I saw and thought, and heard the speech of all.
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of runes heard thy words, nor were counsels wanting.
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my read.
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Prophet thou hast if thou hearest, great thy gain if thou learnest.
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and heal thou my reed.
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Prophet thou hast if thou hearest, great thy gain if thou learnest.
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Beware of sleep on a witch's bosom, nor let her limbs ensnare thee.
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Such is her might that thou hast no mind for the council or meeting of men.
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hate thou hatest, joy thou hast not, and sadly to slumber thou farest.
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my read.
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Prophet thou hast if thou hearest, great thy gain if thou learnest.
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Seek never to win the wife of another, or long for her secret love.
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my reed, Prophet thou hast, if thou hearest,
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If were mountains or gulfs thou fain wouldst go, look well to thy food for the way.
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my reed, Prophet thou hast, if thou hearest,
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evil man thou must not let spring out of ill to thee, for an evil man will never make reward
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I saw a man who was wounded sore by an evil woman's word, a lying tongue his death blow
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my read.
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Prophet thou hast if thou hearest, and great thy gain if thou learnest.
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If a friend thou hast whom thou fully wilt trust, then fair to find him oft, for brambles
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grow in waving grass on the rarely trodden road.
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my read, Prophet thou hast, if thou hearest,
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great thy gain, if thou learnest, a good man find to hold in friendship, and give heed
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my read, Prophet thou hast, if thou hearest,
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Great thy gain, if thou learnest, Be never the first to break with thy friend
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The bonds that hold you both, Carry each the heart, if thou canst not speak
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my read,
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Prophet thou hast, if thou hearest, Great thy gain, if thou learnest,
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my reed, Prophet thou hast if thou hearest,
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Great thy gain if thou learnest, Will the worst man speak not three words in dispute,
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Ill affairs the better oft, When the worst man wields the sword.
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my reed.
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Prophet thou hast if thou hearest, and great thou gainest thou learnest.
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A shoemaker be, or a maker of shafts, for only thy single self.
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If the shoe is either made, or the shaft proves false, then evil of thee may think.
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my reed.
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Prophet thou hast, if thou hearest, Great thy gain, if thou learnest,
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If evil thou knowest, as evil proclaim it, And make no friendship with foes.
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I read thee, Lo Fafnir, and hear thou my read. Prophet thou hast, if thou hearest,
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Great thy gain if thou learnest, And evil never joy shalt thou know,
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my read,
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Prophet thou hast if thou hearest, Great thy gain if thou learnest.
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Look not up when battle is on, Like madmen the sons of men become,
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my read.
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Prophet thou hast if thou hearest, great thy gain if thou learnest.
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If thou feign between a woman's love, and gladness's gift from her,
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fair be thy promise, and well fulfilled, and unloads what good gifts.
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou thy read.
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Prophet thou hast if thou hearest, and great thy gain if thou learnest.
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Beware most with heir or another's wife, and third, beware lest the thief out with thee.
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my read.
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Profit thou hast if thou hearest, Great thy gain if thou learnest.
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Scorn or mocking ne'er shalt thou make Of a guest or a journey-goer.
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Of scarily he knows who sits in the house What kind is the man who comes.
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None so good is found that false he has naught, Nor so wicked that naught he is worth.
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my read.
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Prophet thou hast if thou hearest, great thy gain if thou learnest.
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Scorn not ever the gray-haired singer, oft do the old speak good.
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Oft from shriveled skin come skillful counsels, though it hang with the hides, and flap with
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my read.
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Prophet thou hast if thou hearest, Great thy gain if thou learnest.
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Curse not thy guest, nor show him thy gate, Deal well with a man in want.
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Strong is the being that raised must be To give an entrance to all.
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Give it a ring, a grim will be, The wish it would work on thee.
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I read thee, Lord Fafnir, and hear thou my read.
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Prophet thou hast if thou hearest, And great thy gain if thou learnest.
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When ale thou drinkest, seek might of earth, For earth cures drink, and fire cures ears.
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The oak cures tightness, the ear cures magic, rye cures rupture, the moon cures rage, grass
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cures the scab, and runes the sword cut, the field absorbs the flood.
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Now are whore's words spoken in the hall, kind for the kindred of men, cursed for the
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the kindred of giants. Hail to the speaker, and to him who learns. Prophet be his who
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I weaned that I hung on the windy tree, hung there for nights full of nine. With the spear
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I was wounded and offered I was, to Oden, myself to myself, on a tree that none may
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ever know what the root beneath it runs none made me happy with loaf or horn and there below i looked
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i took up the runes shrieking i took them and forthwith back i fell nine mighty songs i got
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from the son of bullhorn bestless father and a drink i got of them goodly me poured out from
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more thrill. Then began I to thrive, and wisdom to get, I grew when well I was. Each word
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led me on to another word, each deed to another deed. Runes shalt thou find, and fateful signs
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that the king of singers colored, and the mighty gods have made. Full strong the signs,
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full-mighty the signs that the ruler of gods doth write.
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Odin for the gods, deign for the elders, and Valin for the dwarves,
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Alsvith for the giants, and all mankind, and some myself I wrote.
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Knowest how one shall write, knowest how one shall read,
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knowest how one shall tint, knowest how one shall trial,
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Noest how one shall ask, Noest how one shall offer,
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Noest how one shall send, Noest how one shall sacrifice.
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By the getting measures thy gift, Better is none than too big a sacrifice.
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So Thun de Vold wrote ere man's race began, Where he rose on high when home he came.
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The songs I know that kings' wives know not, Nor men that are sons of men.
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The first is called Help, and help it can bring thee In sorrow and pain and sickness.
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A second I know that men shall need Who leechcraft long to use.
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A third I know if great is my need Of fetters to hold my foe,
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Blunt do I make mine enemy's blade Nor bites his sword or staff.
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A fourth I know if men shall fasten Bonds on my bended legs,
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So great is the charm that forth I may go, The fetters spring from my feet,
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A fifth I know if I see from afar An arrow fly against the folk,
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It flies not so swift that I stop it not, If ever my eyes behold it.
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A sixth I know if harm one seeks With a sapling's roots to send me,
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The hero himself, who wrecks his hate, Shall taste the ale ere I.
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A seventh I know, if I see in flames, The hall o'er my comrades' heads.
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It burns not so wide that I will not quench it, I know the song to sing.
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An eighth I know, that is all to all, Of greatest good to learn.
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When hatred grows among heroes' sons I soon can set at the right.
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A ninth I know if need there comes To shelter my ship on the flood.
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The wind I calm upon the waves In the sea I put to sleep.
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A tenth I know what time I see House riders flying on high.
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So can I work, the wildly they go, Showing their true shapes, hence to their own homes.
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An eleventh I know, if needs I must lead, To the fight of my long-loved friends.
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I sing in the shields, and in strength they go, Hold to the field of fight, hold from
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the field of fight, And whole they come and thence home.
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A twelfth I know if high on a tree I see a hanged man swing,
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So do I write and color the runes That forth he fares and to me he talks.
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A thirteenth I know if a fain full young With water I sprinkle well,
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He shall not fall, though he fares mid the host Nor sink beneath the swords.
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A fourteenth I know if fain I would name, To mend the mighty gods,
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All know I well of the gods and elves, Few be the fools know this.
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A fifteenth I know that before the doors of Deling, Sang Throthreir the dwarf,
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Mighty sang for the gods and glory for elves, And wisdom for Roptatir wise.
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A sixteenth I know, If I seek delight, To win from a maiden wise.
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The mind I turn, Of the white-armed maid, And thus change all her thoughts.
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A seventeenth I know, So that seldom shall go, A maiden young from me.
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Long these songs thou shalt, Lord Fafnil, Seek in vain to sing.
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Yet good it were, if thou mightest get them, Well, if thou wouldst them learn, Help, if thou hadst them.
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And eighteenth I know, that ne'er will I tell, To maiden or wife of man,
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The best is what none but one's self doth know, So comes the end of the songs,
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Save only to her in whose arms I lay, Or who else my sister is.