The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
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[“Doubtful played the foredoomed fate] |
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 | CHAPTER LXXXII. GRETTIR SINGS OF HIS
GREAT DEEDS.
The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
195
[“Doubtful played the foredoomed fate]
[Grettir.]
“Doubtful played the foredoomed fate
Round the sword in that debate,
When the bearserks' outlawed crew
In the days of yore I slew.
Screamed the worm of clashing lands
When Hiarandi dropped his hands
Biorn and Gunnar cast away,
Hope of dwelling in the day.
Round the sword in that debate,
When the bearserks' outlawed crew
In the days of yore I slew.
Screamed the worm of clashing lands
When Hiarandi dropped his hands
Biorn and Gunnar cast away,
Hope of dwelling in the day.
“Home again then travelled I;
The broad-boarded ship must lie,
Under Door-holm, as I went,
Still with weapon-play content,
Through the land; and there the thane
Called me to the iron rain,
Bade me make the spear-storm rise,
Torfi Vebrandson the wise.
The broad-boarded ship must lie,
Under Door-holm, as I went,
Still with weapon-play content,
Through the land; and there the thane
Called me to the iron rain,
Bade me make the spear-storm rise,
Torfi Vebrandson the wise.
“To such plight the Skald was brought,
Wounder of the walls of thought,
Howsoever many men
Stood, all armed, about us then,
That his hand that knew the oar,
Grip of sword might touch no more;
Yet to me the wound who gave
Did he give a horse to have.
Wounder of the walls of thought,
Howsoever many men
Stood, all armed, about us then,
That his hand that knew the oar,
Grip of sword might touch no more;
Yet to me the wound who gave
Did he give a horse to have.
196
“Thorbiorn Arnor's son, men said,
Of no great deed was afraid,
Folk spake of him far and wide;
He forbade me to abide
Longer on the lovely earth;
Yet his heart was little worth,
Not more safe alone was I,
Than when armed he drew a-nigh.
Of no great deed was afraid,
Folk spake of him far and wide;
He forbade me to abide
Longer on the lovely earth;
Yet his heart was little worth,
Not more safe alone was I,
Than when armed he drew a-nigh.
“From the sword's edge and the spears,
From my many waylayers,
While might was, and my good day,
Often did I snatch away;
Now a hag, whose life outworn
Wicked craft and ill hath borne,
Meet for death lives long enow,
Grettir's might to overthrow.”
From my many waylayers,
While might was, and my good day,
Often did I snatch away;
Now a hag, whose life outworn
Wicked craft and ill hath borne,
Meet for death lives long enow,
Grettir's might to overthrow.”
| CHAPTER LXXXII. GRETTIR SINGS OF HIS
GREAT DEEDS.
The Collected Works of William Morris | |