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The war I remember, | the first in the world, When the gods with spears | had smitten Gollveig,
And in the hall | of Hor had burned her, Three times burned, | and three times born,
Oft and again, | yet ever she lives.
Heith they named her | who sought their home, The wide-seeing witch, | in magic wise;
Minds she bewitched | that were moved by her magic, To evil women | a joy she was.
Then sought the gods | their assembly-seats, The holy ones, | and council held,
Whether the gods | should tribute give, Or to all alike | should worship belong.
On the host his spear | did Othin hurl, Then in the world | did war first come;
The wall that girdled | the gods was broken, And the field by the warlike | Wanes was trodden.
Then sought the gods | their assembly-seats, The holy ones, | and council held,
To find who with venom | the air had filled, Or had given Oth's bride | to the giants' brood.
In swelling rage | then rose up Thor,-- Seldom he sits | when he such things hears,--
And the oaths were broken, | the words and bonds, The mighty pledges | between them made.
I know of the horn | of Heimdall, hidden Under the high-reaching | holy tree;
On it there pours | from Valfather's pledge A mighty stream: | would you know yet more?
Alone I sat | when the Old One sought me, The terror of gods, | and gazed in mine eyes:
"What hast thou to ask? | why comest thou hither? Othin, I know | where thine eye is hidden."
I know where Othin's | eye is hidden, Deep in the wide-famed | well of Mimir;
Mead from the pledge | of Othin each mom Does Mimir drink: | would you know yet more?
Necklaces had I | and rings from Heerfather, Wise was my speech | and my magic wisdom;
Widely I saw | over all the worlds.
On all sides saw I | Valkyries assemble, Ready to ride | to the ranks of the gods;
Skuld bore the shield, | and Skogul rode next, Guth, Hild, Gondul, | and Geirskogul.
Of Herjan's maidens | the list have ye heard, Valkyries ready | to ride o'er the earth.
I saw for Baldr, | the bleeding god, The son of Othin, | his destiny set:
Famous and fair | in the lofty fields, Full grown in strength | the mistletoe stood.
From the branch which seemed | so slender and fair Came a harmful shaft | that Hoth should hurl;
But the brother of Baldr | was born ere long, And one night old | fought Othin's son.
His hands he washed not, | his hair he combed not, Till he bore to the bale-blaze | Baldr's foe.
But in Fensalir | did *** weep sore For Valhall's need: | would you know yet more?
One did I see | in the wet woods bound, A lover of ill, | and to Loki like;
By his side does Sigyn | sit, nor is glad To see her mate: | would you know yet more?