by Árni Böðvarsson (1755)
Ten rímur composed by Árni Böðvarsson (1713–1776) in 1755, first published posthumously at Copenhagen in 1858. The cycle retells the legendary saga of Þorsteinn uxafótr — the father of Friðþjófr, whose own rímur are already in this archive. First known English translation.
Fyrsta Ríma
The poet invokes the mead of poetry, introduces the champion Þorkell of Krossavík and his mute sister Oddný, the Norwegian chieftain Styrkár and the proud Ívar Ljómi, then sails with Ívar to Iceland — where the meeting with Oddný sows the seed of trouble.
Mansöngur
1.
I ask that the hawks of the War-God
may hither fly to me —
let the wine of Fjölnir bring
boldly what I crave.
2.
Often have wise Icelandic poets,
telling of men of fame,
offered the people the measure of song
and sat in the halls of verse.
3.
They won the art of cutting into wakefulness,
accepted honest fellowship;
and so the people were charmed
and loved those who composed.
4.
Often have I pressed the norns of poetry
to seek the payment of fresh counsel,
often borne a burning heart
and refused sleep at evening.
5.
May the blood of Kvasir flow
and fill the empty vessels;
then let the sacred liquor moisten
the path of the gathered holy things.
6.
O you, fair and lovely one —
noble norn of poetry!
Let the harvest of speech
be brought to me!
7.
For a gracious lord bade me,
one whom goodness never fails,
to read over an adventure
and compose a verse or two.
8.
Wine I desire to draw from the cup,
freed from grief and sorrow,
at the chieftain's gentle prayer —
to drink at Baldur's feast.
9.
All that is best to say
and men have thought for good —
may it always heap upon the noble
spender of the Rhine's gold.
10.
The prelude shall end swiftly
for the nation's glory;
the matter shall now begin —
let the people sit and listen.
The Champion of Krossavík
11.
The champion lived in Krossavík,
enjoying wealth and plenty;
the powerful folk called him Þorkell —
this man they praised with honor.
12.
The heir of Geiti let the leaf
be washed in the flood of waves;
he had a sister — Oddný was her name —
both of them unwed.
13.
The noblest freeborn woman
won great esteem from warriors,
yet the young one was denied all speech —
the maiden veiled in silk.
14.
Þorkell owned a chosen slave,
dark about the shoulders;
this one the prosperous folk conveyed —
he was gentle and fortunate.
15.
Freysteinn was his name, and fair,
his beauty surpassing many;
he bore the best of virtues too —
the gentle feeder of wolves.
The Lineage of Krummholt
16.
Now I shall name yet more
who dwell upon the serpent's ground:
in Krummholt lived Krummur,
the well-known son of Vemundur.
17.
Vemundur was the heir of Ásbjörn,
Ásbjörn of Krumm the Old,
who from Vors — that wise-bold man —
made the bear of the ford flounder.
18.
Beneath the heights of the Ice-One,
the priest of the sea-norns
won without any loss of luck
the land at Hafranesi.
19.
Thence inward to Þernuness,
upon the precious farmstead;
Strúð and other isles of that place —
I think the book accounts for them.
20.
The younger Krumm I name now,
the kinswoman of the dragon's field:
this lady was called Þorgunna —
daughter of Þorsteinn by name.
21.
Veturliði, that son,
is said to be the child of Ásbjörn,
famous from Beitistöðum —
the keeper of Fróði's mill.
22.
The verses of Óláfr Langháls —
the kinsman of Bjarnason,
with the glow of the brand —
tell of gentle people.
Þorgunna the Wise
23.
Lady Þorgunna was wise,
though she lacked all popularity;
she bore no bloom upon her face —
remarkably old in temperament.
24.
Hard-minded, the ring-woman seemed,
and somewhat skilled in sorcery;
the humble couple dwelling there
live in such a fashion.
25.
The woman was higher in years
than the man her husband;
no children had they there —
so the book relates.
Norway — Styrkár and the Proud Ljómi
26.
The mind of Odin bears my verse
now to the realm of Norway:
Styrkár is named, the warrior-lord,
handsome as a chieftain.
27.
The son of Indriði, a man of honor,
adorned with every bloom;
his father was named Hreiðar —
laden with ample glory.
28.
Hreiðar had that kinsman
whom men called Ásbjörn;
the father of Yrjarskeggur found
courage and clever fame.
29.
Ólöf, sister of Ásbjörn,
was married to Klippur the hersir;
he carved down Sigurðr Slefa —
the sharpener of the sword's edge.
30.
Among the counted kindred,
a fair chieftain was Erlingur
of Hörðaland — as I well know —
he braced the pillar's breast.
31.
Ívar is the name of Erling's son,
the fire of the giant's fame;
he was the fairest of all men —
for that he was called Ljómi.
32.
Every man of arms
could not help but love him;
yet the spender of the serpent's coil
was full of pride.
33.
He bore great strength and feats of skill,
held above all others;
and so for long the warrior
lived boldly in his nature.
34.
No silk-adorned woman, he thought,
would ever be his equal;
old pride bred within
the apple of the breast's grove.
35.
When I think on such men often,
I feel I am driven to say:
they are just like their own air —
so writes Seneca.
36.
With Styrkár there lived a brave
and trustworthy wise kinsman,
often at Gimsir was he found,
within the Þrándheim settlement.
37.
The rain of Draupnir — I well know —
fortune arches over them;
Styrkár's young heir was named
Einar Gut-Shaker.
38.
Flat-Footed Indriði
and Styrkár at Gimsir
prove to be the sons of brothers —
so it is told by many.
39.
Ívar loved Styrkár,
the nature of the giant's storms;
Ljómi guided the ship of war
and brought about the joy of treasure.
40.
On trading journeys to England,
likewise to the realm of the Danes —
thither sought the warmth of waves,
the elf of Grani's burden.
The Voyage to Iceland
41.
The warrior Ívar asked
one day to change his course —
to seek the cold earth of Iceland
under the northern pole.
42.
Sína is called — the eager one
delights in wielding weapons;
the ship went from the rollers of the harbor,
gliding on the paths of the salmon.
43.
He loaded the fair stallion of the waves;
the horse of the billows galloped;
the gust of the sails gave answer —
it gaped at the ancient drifts.
44.
The breeze came and blew into the cloth,
the sudden glow of fire;
beneath the land the prow stretches —
Rán roared at the helm.
45.
The hound of the alder-giant howled;
the breakers of the headlands rejoiced;
the Sleipnir of Gýmir's seeress struck
its tangled, blood-dark mane.
46.
Until at last the goddess, held
in the glory of the thunder-god,
rose up from the blue-dark sea —
the white headdress of the land.
47.
The breeze whined gently in its bonds;
the canvas flickered like fire;
the fair wheel shone upon the earth,
filled with golden dawn.
48.
Gliding with their figureheads
as is the seafarer's custom,
they opened the prow's gaping mouth —
the ship came thus to land.
49.
An anchor was made fast in the sea,
a blade dropped from the ship of men;
the folk secured the mooring ropes;
the thunder of the floods fell silent.
Arrival at Gautavík
50.
The saga tells: Gautavík
lies there on that shore,
where the blessed company
was able to take harbor.
51.
The glad lord of Heimdall's light,
the keeper of the arm's icicle,
turns ashore with his men
and takes his ease at last.
52.
The powerful folk heard the news;
Þorkell rode in haste —
Geitisson, to Gautavík —
gleaming in his fine attire.
53.
The chieftain's journey is swift;
the maiden of Fjölnir sighs;
the horses run the straight road
under saddle-gear so fair.
54.
The proud and wealthy farmer
met the strong steersman;
he invites him to come along
home to Krossavík.
55.
Likewise from the ship should come
the bright warriors of the deck —
those who wished from the vessel's side
to travel thither with him.
56.
The champion thanks the farmer warmly
for this finest of welcomes;
the journey was then hastened onward —
the weary horses ran.
57.
Ívar brought his fortune home;
he was rich enough for it;
with five men in his company
he went to Krossavík.
The Silent Maiden
58.
The warriors' hearts are gladdened,
each content in his own counsel;
the chieftain dealt out treasure —
the seed of Yrsa's child.
59.
Þorkell — best of farmer's choices —
gladly one day came
to summon his sister to a word;
and then he said to her:
60.
"There has come hither a worthy man,
keeper of the serpent's field —
I would gladly have you serve him,
cheerful maiden!"
61.
"This would please me most,"
the bold farmer adds,
"for all the others here
are each in some business."
62.
Her garden of wisdom was full-grown,
though she lacked the gift of speech;
she took a stick and carved a rune —
the rose of precious stones.
63.
Þorkell studied what she wrote;
the guardian of the giant's bane
would not let the winged headdress
be found willing to serve.
64.
About this there is little more to tell —
the generous lord desires to press;
but his thought makes it plain:
ill shall come of this.
65.
The giver of gold grows angry,
the keeper of the serpent's field;
she did not dare any longer
to refuse him fully.
66.
The excellent kinswoman
very much obeyed him then;
she served the guardian of wealth —
that went as one might expect.
67.
The stiff chapter ends here —
these moment's verses tire;
I bid the pure-hearted hero farewell,
keeper of the arm's embers.
Önnur Ríma
The poet invokes the mead of Odin a second time, then the tale turns dark: Ívar Ljómi refuses to marry Oddný despite having fathered her child, mocking her muteness. Þorkell challenges him, is wounded in a duel, and Ívar escapes by sea to Norway. At midsummer Oddný gives birth to a boy more promising than any other. Þorkell, enraged, orders the child exposed. The slave Freysteinn carries the baby into the forest — and secretly saves him in the shelter of an oak.
Mansöngur
1.
The memorial cup of the gods a second time — though barely willing —
to a noble spirit, the beam of the hand,
I graciously offer forth.
2.
I find delight in words from glory's peak, stirred by renown —
to show the mind the pillow of Svöfnir;
freed from trouble, good fortune upholds me.
3.
I shall not forget to pray for that shelter of the thoughtful home —
may victory and delight play in the spirit,
in the flowering bush of life's cotton-grass.
4.
As though one wished or were obliged — and yet never
can I fashion for Baldur's hand
the wine of horns from my own nature.
5.
Therefore I shall petition and compel the ancient norns
from the sacred heights of the hall of verse
to moisten the fields of the heart.
6.
So that the swift, undaunted falcon may bring me
the ale of Fjölnir in Báleygr's cup,
drowsy after the hours of morning.
7.
For nearly it shines — the dísir of song have long
given craft, beyond all doubt,
to the vein-warm smiths of verse.
8.
May the spirit be gladdened, may courage thrive —
let the breast receive the grace of deeds,
and I cast heavy sorrow from the mind's fields.
9.
Summer wanes; the saga calls; the cheerful company
hears the matter; once again is named
the fair breeze — to recite a ríma.
The Winter and the Rune-Stick
10.
There the furious warrior waited, the reddener of wounds —
against the roots of all good counsel
the servants acted in the matter of the serpent's ruin.
11.
Winter passed — one may well describe
the bright gleam beneath the belt of ice;
the island thickens, as the people say.
12.
Þorkell asks about this — the silent norn
carved runes upon a stick;
the warrior reads what the words convey.
13.
Ívar has not improved through the winter toward them —
he arranged it so that the gold-adorned woman
bears heavy burdens by his doing.
14.
Then the brine-salt wave of tears swiftly came —
falling from the cliffs of the face,
the jeweled woman driven by anguish.
15.
The warrior speaks no more about the pair;
winter ends, the warmth arrives —
the gentle spring gladdens the people.
The Departure
16.
Ívar, the peerless lord,
by the stream at Gautavík makes ready —
gladly he prepares to depart with all his gear.
17.
The keeper speaks with the joy of spears:
his followers travel with him,
and they got the very best horses.
18.
Þorkell accompanied them from home, shielded in arms;
the riding-beasts ran the straight roads,
sweating and knowing weariness.
The Proposal
19.
The heir of Geiti, noble keeper of treasure,
began to speak, and said with effort:
"I ask that it be made known to me —
20.
what plan you make, guardian of rings, with ready hand,
for the child so quickly, without care,
that is to be found with my sister.
21.
Or do you wish, filled with love,
to marry the noble woman? Then I give the bride-price
of good honor and ring-troth."
The Refusal
22.
Ívar reddens like blood — the destroyer grows angry
at the mention of rings, and then answers:
"A new insult I hear!
23.
A fool's errand, all would call it —
that I should marry one
who has never spoken a word in all her life!
24.
Often had I, among the people, an abundance of choices —
I who could pick among gold-adorned women,
the shield-hurler, back in Norway!
25.
Your wretched slave — to him you may give
the child of the jewel-gate, man!
But cease this prattle!"
The Challenge
26.
Þorkell says: "If you still do not recognize yourself —
or if you belittle the woman of wealth
with cold words and treacherous speech —
27.
then you yourself, elf of swords, shall in the end discover —
I have never before borne
such heather-serpent's insult!"
The Duel
28.
Ívar grows angry — he draws from its sheath
the victory-wand, the neck-proud blade,
and wounds the worthy Þorkell on the foot.
29.
The blood poured like waterfalls from the iron's path;
Þorkell's strong power in return
wielded Odin's flame with his hands.
30.
Ívar pulled back — but the blade struck the leg
and shoved the horse, and no shield helped;
his companion leaped from the horse's back.
31.
The warrior reached his fine companions.
Þorkell rides, enduring his wounds,
the powerful one — home to Krossavík.
The Pursuit
32.
The true keeper of treasure gathers thirty men
the very next day — and the armed warriors
march, weary and hungry.
33.
They bore helmets, bright metal, and shirts of mail —
shields glinting, soon for battle
they stood ready, nothing sluggish.
34.
They rode without hardship straight to Gautavík.
Soon must the guilty war-god
beware upon the ship of Rán.
35.
The warrior pulled up the gangways — the men
drag up the anchor and set the sails;
the friend of fire thunders in the canvas.
36.
The rudder plays nimbly over the salmon's mire —
the blood-dark ropes fall silent;
the spray bellows on the frozen shell of the sea.
37.
The breath of Kári, like a wave, drove
the Sleipnir of the sea through the open clutches
of Gýmir's norns for a long time.
38.
So it goes — the rigging sings; the cheerful crew
rejoices in the breeze — the wind falls silent
when they reached the land of Hörðaland.
The Return to Norway
39.
In quiet rest Ívar may enjoy his treasures,
where kinsmen, free from anger,
are generous to the worthy warrior.
40.
Greatly the gentle lords rejoice over the breaker of spears;
with honor and feasting they welcome him.
Let us now turn from the mighty champion.
The Farmer's Rage
41.
My thoughts may rightfully now turn to the others.
Þorkell the farmer broods
like a wolf, howling after the departing ship.
42.
Very watery-eyed, the cautious warrior
turns back again, at a loss for counsel —
the powerful one, home to Krossavík.
43.
Greatly the warrior suffers the dishonor —
the arrow-hurler of Odin
was not accustomed to insults of this kind.
44.
News came at the midsummer course:
Þorkell's sister, endowed with honor,
had borne a boy-child — and hardship came to stay.
45.
The most promising child, fairer than all others, wise within —
this Þorkell learns;
and the swelling of hatred filled his breast.
The Exposure
46.
"So shall it be!" — he ordered the child carried out, unprotected.
For in the laws of those days
men could hear the ancient custom:
47.
poor men and many such were permitted
boldly to discard their own children —
held accursed, yet lawful in truth.
48.
Þorkell commands fair Freysteinn — quickly, without fear —
to carry out in pale cloths
the young child; his resolve hardens.
49.
Freysteinn begs off and is tormented — that he should abet such evil —
until at last the capable servant bows
to Þorkell's anger at his warm insistence.
50.
Then Þorkell's father was there to answer —
old Geiti, first among the household:
"Do not carry the boy out to die!
51.
For my own thought tells me this one is destined —
dearer than most, the greatest choice of men
he may become — the bender of spear-points."
52.
The old man avails nothing — the keeper of treasure
says in anger: "The boy shall truly die,
though all men forbid it!"
The Oak
53.
Freysteinn, led away and nearly forced —
he took the boy; but the silk-pure woman
wept bitterly, and the tears poured down.
54.
The keeper of plows walked to the forest, untired,
pressed by sorrow — the very young,
the soft boy, he wrapped in cloths.
55.
A morsel of flesh he placed — so the text tells —
into the child's mouth, the generous man;
and dug a hollow in the shelter of an oak.
56.
He arranged it well, so that rest and shelter
were given for the child's protection;
then the valiant lad went sorrowful home to the farm.
57.
He tells the farmer the child is dead —
this pleases the mind of the serpent's board;
and now there was quiet for a time.
58.
The virtue of verse may now prove its truth —
may the keeper cherish the stiff praise of songs.
Peace to the enjoyer of the hill-serpent's hoard.
Þriðja Ríma
The poet invokes the mead of poetry a third time, lamenting the decline of old verse craft. Then the tale shifts: Krummur the farmer hears an infant crying in the forest and finds the child Þorsteinn in the oak hollow where Freysteinn hid him. He raises the boy as his own. When Þorsteinn visits Krossavík, he stumbles in the hall — and old Geitir sees not a boy falling but a white bear striding across the floor. Geitir tells him he is of greater lineage. The truth is confirmed: Þorsteinn is the son of Oddný and Ívar. At ten years old, Þorsteinn sleeps on a burial mound during the autumn sheep-search and dreams the mound open. He frees Freysteinn from slavery in gratitude for two acts of faithfulness. The mound-dweller Brynjar, red-clad and courteous, prophesies that Þorsteinn will become the foremost of men, and leads him into the mound's hall.
Mansöngur
1.
A third time the hall of song
shall gladden with Victory-Tyr's memorial;
may Bragi pour the beckoning wave
into the ancient cup of Baldr.
2.
Thither my falcons of the Storm-God bid me —
may delight keep its gentle peace;
there I would find
contentment at last.
3.
The poet shapes his supple verse —
the people of the land rejoice;
honors come from the wise,
and favor from the ladies.
4.
Now such customs lie far away —
each verse grows estranged
from the true old measures;
I say the art has strangely faltered.
5.
The weight of deeds lies heavy on the mind —
I shy from precious verse;
eloquence ever fails me,
nothing goes as I would wish.
6.
Yet the finest lord of the land
will honor most of my words —
for he knows the halls of wisdom,
and I can do no better.
7.
In Hyrrokkin's breath, as always —
I pray that the fair keeper
of the warm bed
embrace good fortune to herself.
8.
Thus I end my mansöngur —
darkness, storms, and winter
drift on; the dark voice of Aegir
deadens my will to make verse.
The Discovery
9.
Enough — the matter for verse arrives:
Krummur the farmer went to the wood
to fetch timber on his pack-horse;
the man heard an infant crying.
10.
He finds the boy and carries the child
home to his wife —
big for its age, and handsome;
the man knew that face.
11.
Listen — the humble couple heard
what had come to pass at Krossavík,
of Þorkell's heavy, hateful mood;
yet they lived peaceably with him.
12.
The saga tells: on the fourth day
the boy was found,
filled with grief,
from the time he was exposed.
The Foster-Son
13.
Krummur named the young man
Þorsteinn — a gentle name —
and said the boy
was his own son.
14.
Þorsteinn grows and thrives there;
Þorgunna was kind to the boy
in all things equally,
and taught him all she knew.
15.
While Þorsteinn lived and grew in years,
he bore beauty and vigor,
strength, endurance, and skill
like warriors fully grown.
16.
One day — as he often would —
the young man set out from home
across the green cloak of the earth
and walked to Krossavík.
17.
He walked into the hall;
old Geitir sat on the bench,
that sharp-faced man,
huddled now in his cloak.
The White Bear
18.
Þorsteinn walked in rather fast —
he fell flat on the floor;
the timbers shook around him,
and old Geitir laughed.
19.
Oddný watched this;
down the cliffs of her brow
tears fell in streams —
she could barely contain herself.
20.
Þorsteinn went to Geitir,
chose his words with care:
"Though I fell hard enough,
did you find it so amusing?"
21.
Geitir answered: "True enough —
but I can tell you at once,
my eyes saw something just now
that is not what you suppose."
22.
"What was it?" Þorsteinn asked.
Geitir began to answer:
"A white bear I saw
stride tall across the floor.
23.
It stood still and stared at me —
then suddenly I saw you rush in;
the beast tripped at the threshold
and became the fall beneath your feet."
24.
"You are no common child of sorrow,
no son of Krummur and Þorgunna —
of greater lineage you are;
my mind has often told me plainly."
The Recognition
25.
Much they spoke together; the young man
sat the whole day beside Geitir,
then desired, freed from pain,
to go home in the evening.
26.
The worthy boy Geitir bade
to come often to this place:
"For I think there is no one closer
to you than your kin who dwell here."
27.
Oddný met him outside the door
and gave him a gift of clothing.
The young man walked the wide road
homeward that evening.
28.
He made his visits a custom
to Krossavík that year;
he found Geitir growing old,
while Þorkell cared little about him.
29.
Geitir once spoke to the worthy kinsman
and said to him thus:
"To Oddný and Ívar
I believe Þorsteinn was born.
30.
He shall win the finest measure
of honored fortune."
Þorkell answered, swift with words:
"I cannot deny it.
31.
We shall get true tidings —
I desire to hear
this story." Then word was
sent for Krummur and Þorgunna.
32.
Then the couple hurried home,
Þorsteinn traveling with them;
they told about their foster-son
and how he had come to them.
33.
Freysteinn too showed fairly
how he had acted before;
the farmer confirmed it — because always
it all comes together now.
34.
Well gone it seemed then
to Þorkell, as one may hear.
To his own lineage Þorsteinn there
thus fully awakens.
The Sheep-Search
35.
He would make his mark upon the world;
he went to dwell at Krossavík.
Well clothed and prosperous,
Þorkell treated him well.
36.
By custom, when ice capped the heights,
men had to go up the mountain —
all were accustomed to this;
Þorsteinn was ten years old.
37.
That autumn Þorkell asked
his gentle kinsman right away,
with folk across the mountain's course,
to go now on the sheep-search.
38.
Quickly the lad agrees,
and called Freysteinn along;
up across the wide mountain wastes
their feet tested the ground again and again.
39.
The bold ones found a wealth of sheep —
fortune stood in their arms;
homeward through a deep valley
the men came, as shall be told.
The Mound
40.
The light waned across the land;
two travelers on the road
wanted gentle rest —
and saw a great mound in the valley.
41.
Þorsteinn answered quick enough:
"I will sleep here tonight.
Gladly do I trust you —
Freysteinn, keep watch over me.
42.
Above all — lie here and watch.
However I behave in sleep,
be warned of this:
you shall not wake me."
43.
Freysteinn freely gave his word
to the fair young man.
Þorsteinn settled his thoughts
there beside the eager mound.
44.
At first the earth was still,
but as the night wore on,
the sleeper on the mound
grew restless in his dreams.
45.
He thrashed on nape and heel —
his behavior was not gentle;
Freysteinn wondered at the trouble;
and so it went until dawn.
46.
When the great steerer of bright Skinfaxi
drove in across the heavenly choir —
the dream within death's dwelling stirred,
the herder's hall gave way to morning.
47.
From the thicket of his mind
a host emerged, shield-bright —
whatever shape it bore,
the body's vessels thundered.
Freysteinn's Freedom
48.
Nobly he spoke to fair Freysteinn,
measured in mind and temper:
"You showed courage of deeds today —
faithfully you kept your watch.
49.
Above all I count two things
you did as a loyal friend;
it is now clear to all
that I call them reward-worthy.
50.
The first time you went with me
out on the broad forest path;
and likewise again now —
you shall receive faithful reward.
51.
Before my mother's brother
you shall fittingly receive your freedom —
twelve marks of honest silver
I now bestow on you.
The Dream
52.
The whole dream I shall tell:
the mound in this valley
opened — and from it stepped
a spirit of the cold deep.
53.
He did not seem fearsome —
that sword-keeper, clad in red;
thither he walked, found Þorsteinn,
and pleasantly gave greeting.
54.
When the patient bearer of blades looked on,
Þorsteinn received his greeting,
asked also for his name
and where he made his dwelling.
55.
Brynjar declared his name:
"This mound in the deep valley
is my home — the warrior
of spears shall tell the rest.
56.
Now enough of this has been spoken;
I know your name and lineage —
upon the earth of Yggr
the foremost of men you shall become.
57.
Will you now, with bright face,
come and see my dwelling?"
Þorsteinn rose to his feet
and to this offer said yes.
58.
He seized the bitter blade —
the young warrior climbed the rise;
this weapon Þorkell,
his kinsman, had given him.
59.
Brynjar led the young warrior
into the mound's hall;
Þorsteinn inspects that chamber —
and with that, the ríma shall cease.
Slæma
60.
May the keeper of the ember's fury —
good, red-cheeked — sit therein;
tend well the growth of verse,
the stiff meter of the silent song.
Fjórða Ríma
The poet invokes the mead of poetry a fourth time, lamenting the decay of old verse-craft. Then the tale resumes inside the mound: Þorsteinn sits among Brynjar's retinue and sees the hall divided — eleven warriors in red on the right, twelve blue-clad on the left. Brynjar explains the nightly tribute demanded by Oddur, the grim champion of the opposing company, who has drained them of gold and silver month by month. When the time comes to pay, Þorsteinn approaches Oddur with an axe — and uses it. In the battle that follows, the blue-clad warriors regenerate lost limbs, but Þorsteinn fights until Oddur and all his followers are slain. Brynjar gives Þorsteinn the recovered treasure, prophesies that he will become the foremost of men, and asks that his future son be baptized and given Brynjar's own name. Þorsteinn wakes from the mound-dream, finds the treasure real beside him, and rides home to Krossavík. He gives the gold to his mother Oddný — and the silent woman, who has never spoken a word in all her life, receives the gift of speech.
Mansöngur
1.
The prow of the poem-ship breaks the silence —
I lack the skald's art;
the feathers of Odin's rooster thunder —
I begin to awaken.
2.
This would please the noblest company
to greater worth,
if the meadow of verse might sprout
as one would wish.
3.
The saga's phrases, the speech of learning,
one may listen to;
the untrained in poetry
it does not befit to forge verse.
4.
The noble lord of the feathered hawk
surpasses all men
in the bloom of honor —
he bade me compose this poem.
5.
May strife not breed opposition,
may harm flee the road;
victory, glory, wealth, and joy —
may all these turn toward him.
6.
Could I recite the supple verses
of the tree of leaves,
the lily of joy in the mind's clearing
would grow and flourish.
7.
But I am halted — I am wounded
by the craft of verse;
seldom does Odin's soaring falcon
dance in winter.
8.
This hinders my memory
from the reach of fame;
yet gladly would I tend the work, if I knew
the wine of Odin.
9.
May the master of the generous lord's courts
know the craft well;
over the green moor of the earth's spirit,
may the noble one grant favor.
10.
May fortune be glad with precious judgment —
let not the people lose their way;
may heaven's fair radiance of bliss
shine over us.
Inside the Mound
11.
Dearly bought was the rest he found,
the laborer of glory,
where the inner halls of Odin swallowed
the descendant of Ívar.
12.
Unweary in spirit, he sat
with keen rings of sight;
well-appointed, he thought,
it was there within the mound.
The Two Companies
13.
That most cheerful one sent forth
a smile of welcome —
eleven warriors of the sword-retinue
sat on the right.
14.
The men wore red attire,
scarcely fierce;
the skilled warriors appeared
bereft of joy.
15.
Twelve blue-clad warriors, the saga says,
ill-favored in countenance,
sat unafraid on the other side,
filling the opposing host.
16.
One among them was most terrible
to look upon;
the guest gazed with fearful reluctance
at the retinue's bearing.
Brynjar's Warning
17.
Quietly, beside the warrior's helm,
Brynjar whispered:
"My opponent is the one who sits there —
as you see.
18.
"Oddur is his name, the greatest of them,
mighty in form —
whetter of spear-points, guest of cruelty,
hostile to all good.
19.
"Every night we must render to him
a mark of Grotti's
most excellent
mill-grain gold.
20.
"Or twelve precious marks
of the hand's ice —
the fully-strong warrior on the floor
will take them from us.
21.
"Should gold or silver
of equal worth be lacking,
he chooses weapons instead,
and so he gathers plenty.
22.
"Month after month we suffered losses
until the treasure was spent —
gone is our silver-snow
and the earth's golden down.
23.
"Oddur keeps the gold
well-secured in his stronghold;
the treasure grants speech to the man
who never spoke before.
24.
"If the wave's ember takes root
beneath the tongue —
that is a remedy for your mother,
young warrior.
25.
"Day and evening,
dark night and morning,
Oddur carefully guards the fire
of the sea-norn's gold."
The Tribute
26.
Brynjar first took his seat on the bench
beside his men;
Þorsteinn sat outermost — so it was arranged —
among the fine nobles.
27.
He did not stay long in his seat,
seeing what was needed;
Brynjar went quickly to Oddur
and handed over a ring.
28.
The guardian of brightness received
the payment from him;
Oddur offered no thanks
for the sea's gleaming gold.
29.
One after another, Brynjar's men
hurried forward —
they offered the treasure of their portion
to the guardian.
30.
In silence the shield-breaker
took the dark toll;
to none of the men did he give
any thanks.
31.
Brynjar spoke: "Þorsteinn, you too
must graciously go
to Oddur, as I did,
with some tribute.
32.
"At the benches he desires treasure
from worthy men;
he will call you one of us,
since you sit upon the bench."
The Axe
33.
Grim sat Oddur on high,
hideous in form;
his complexion and the edge of his temper
were hostile to all fortune.
34.
Þorsteinn went to Oddur
and took up the axe;
the standard's warrior raised
these words from his mouth:
35.
"Rich in treasure I am not,
to pay such a warrior as you,
breaker of shields —
36.
"you must not expect great gifts,
tensioner of metal;
rather be gentle toward me,
the poor wretch."
37.
With evil intent, Oddur
turned his power forth:
"A chill comes over me,
cold, from your coming.
38.
"I shall give what is fitting,"
he said, endowed with power —
"what your retinue desires,
let that be the tribute."
39.
Þorsteinn answered: "Nothing but
this good axe
do I find beside me — to offer
the warrior it befits."
40.
He began to extend the axe forward,
the holder of points;
the metal-breaker reached toward it,
stretching his hand tight.
Battle in the Barrow
41.
He swung the thunder of points,
the axe-boss, to strike —
the edge sliced clean through
the arm at the elbow-joint.
42.
Up leapt the warrior-lord
in great fury,
and all the warriors within
rose with him.
43.
They seized the sorely-whetted swords
that hung above them in the tumult;
the glittering war-gear
cloaked the warriors.
44.
Into the dome of the earth's expanse —
I must attest —
darkness fell in the battle-storm;
the swords sang.
45.
Þorsteinn saw the sword-fire
blaze there;
Oddur and Brynjar, equally matched,
fought with equal strength.
46.
For courage may weaken
in the one-handed man;
Brynjar trusted himself the better
in the meeting of spear-points.
47.
The blue-clad struck unsparingly
with great blades;
they wearied the others, for they were
the harder fighters.
48.
Though warriors lost a hand
or half a foot,
they found remedy for it
within moments.
49.
When the brook of blood
poured from Þorsteinn's wounds —
naturally everything proceeded;
they all grew weary.
50.
Hands wielded weapons, warriors grew fierce,
metal on metal flew;
beneath them the ground frothed with blood —
sounds hardened, helms burst.
51.
Until Þorsteinn the storm wielded
not gently,
and he slew Oddur and all those
who followed him.
52.
The keeper of battle-wrath
was nowhere wounded;
the storm of Odin lifted there,
and the fury was spent.
53.
Brynjar's men sheltered behind shields
from the thunder of points
in the sorely-cold aftermath
of the meeting of spear-tips.
Brynjar's Gift
54.
The trier of wealth took the gold
from Oddur's hoard
and gave it to Þorsteinn, saying
he should carry it to his mother.
55.
Brynjar chose for the strong breaker
the treasure of blades —
twelve marks of the hand's silver-hail —
and thus he declared:
Brynjar's Prophecy
56.
"Good gifts are won from you,
you who wield the ring —
who rule the treasure and all the host
and the mound as well.
57.
"Know this, wise champion,
the worth of these marks:
this is the beginning
of your heroic deeds.
58.
"A change of customs I trust will come,
firm and true;
corruption shall be snatched away
where the best flourishes.
59.
"Those are the good things
for those who embrace change;
for others, the fury of difficulty
grants the labor of reform.
60.
"Like me, who am an earth-dweller
with the rest of those within here,
and who fully trust
in the friends of Odin —
61.
"it would matter greatly,
esteemed in the arts,
if you had a son of your lineage:
he should be baptized.
62.
"My own name he might receive —
remember this!
The lucky name shall serve him well
and refresh the guardian."
Departure
63.
He who had spent the bright rings —
Brynjar, strengthened —
led Þorsteinn from the mound
and spoke these words:
64.
"I have gathered these wishes for you —
let nothing dismay;
may your every step
lead always toward honor."
65.
The ring-wielder vanished suddenly
into the mound's darkness.
"That was a dream," Þorsteinn told
Freysteinn.
66.
The giant's oath-gold and silver purse
they saw shining there.
Homeward they rode across
Odin's green earth.
Return to Krossavík
67.
They came home to Krossavík —
joy increased;
the wealthy farmer, adorned with gold,
welcomed them both.
68.
Men were quickly glad
to see the treasure from the search;
Þorsteinn told true tidings
to the joyful company.
69.
He gave the gold to his mother —
as the wise one perceived,
the trail of treasure received speech from it,
just as Brynjar had said.
Closing
70.
Brynjar's mound, as men declare it,
stands known to every warrior —
Jökull rises deep in the valley,
precious in the land.
71.
He shall be watchful
of how things unfold for Odin's maiden.
I shall not spare any longer
the feast of Freyja.
72.
Fair is the skill of the wave's ember —
let the court judge;
the benefit of verse is forbidden now —
the burden of song empties.
Fimmta Ríma
The poet invokes the mead of poetry a fifth time, lamenting the shortening days and the difficulty of verse-craft. The mansöngr is the longest yet — sixteen stanzas of the poet wrestling with his art before the saga draws him back. Then the tale: Þorsteinn emerges from the mound with Brynjar's treasure. He gives his mother Oddný the gold and kinsmen as gifts, frees Freysteinn with silver and land, and learns from Oddný — who now speaks for the first time — about his father Ívar Ljómi in Norway. Armed with his mother's ring, Þorsteinn sails to Norway at age twelve, stays with Styrkár at Gimsir, and rides to Ívar's Yule feast. There he claims his father before the hall. Ívar, furious, refuses him — calls Oddný's son a thrall's child. Styrkár defends Þorsteinn. They part in anger. At Gimsir, Þorsteinn meets Herdís, Styrkár's beautiful sister. Two winters of love. Then home to Iceland for three years. Then back to Norway, to Gimsir, to Styrkár — and to Herdís. The poet closes weary: "I grow tired of forging verse."
Mansöngr
1.
Night darkens, and the day grows ever shorter —
I speak by the moon's light,
the dear spring of Mímir's friend.
2.
Þorsteinn's saga wearies me at times;
to compose verse from it
grants me the nearest toil.
3.
The words do not fall in any order —
it goes worst when the verse-count
must be carefully made.
4.
[Stanza 4 survives only in a damaged fragment: "...to the noble one, for the bright river's gift..." The remainder is lost to page damage.]
5–8.
[Stanzas 5 through 8 are lost. The OCR captures only margin stanza numbers from this page; the text itself did not survive the scan.]
9.
[First line lost]
yet gladly would I tend the verse,
sit with it night and day.
10.
It would be my heart's greatest joy
if the thorn-fine lady
could be pleased by my verses.
11.
Always sweating, I sit praying
that the norns of learning lend their aid
to rescue the poems.
12.
May it benefit the worthy retinue of the prince —
all that is thought best of all,
or seen from bright eyelids.
13.
Of this the innermost apple of the mind asks —
the highest powers with me
set their seal upon these words.
14.
Sigtyr's broad-winged cool corpse-birds flutter;
sometimes nowhere is calm —
it is not always enough for her.
15.
May Iceland's wise wave-trees of light
and the glad feather-grounds
receive joy's bounties.
16.
It is time to shorten this mansöngr;
let each man mind himself —
the saga calls after me.
Narrative
17.
Here shall begin this matter in verse:
Freysteinn gains his day of freedom
through Þorsteinn's word.
18.
Þorkell knew the thunder-road's brightness —
he was of noble lineage,
in the race of foremost men.
19.
The stout farmer Grímkell in Norway
lived at Vors with a fair household;
Freysteinn is the name of his son.
20.
Grímkell had Ólöf, Brynjólf's daughter —
Þorgeir's son, as I mention;
this one's father was called Vestar.
21.
That infamous Sokki the war-viking,
who always wrought deeds of evil,
burned Grímkell alive indoors.
22.
Then Freysteinn went next to the slave-market —
the spear-god who harbored sorrow;
Grímkell had brought him out here.
23.
The saga tells: to his mother Oddný,
the thread-tree covered in treasure,
Þorsteinn gives Freysteinn.
24.
He lived in Sandvík, the divider of bright waves,
at Barð's Ness — that farmer
men call a settler.
25.
He owned Víðfjörð, destroyer of strife's glitter;
he had governance of Hellisfjörð —
a wise thane over Ísafjörð.
26.
The men of Sandvík are said to descend from him;
the men of Víðfjörð at his making
honor the company around Hellisfjörð.
27.
One is named Ásbjörn Kartinnrassi;
he had a ship on the wave-board —
it stood up in Gautavík.
28.
Remarkable — with him took his journey
Þorsteinn, counted twelve winters,
striding across the floor of the crane's hall.
29.
His kinsman, ample travel-provisions
stout Þorkell could give him —
he proved a good man to him.
30.
Oddný speaks, destroyer of ring-trees:
"If you meet my heir
Ívar Ljómi — your father.
31.
"If Ívar is slow to deal with you,
give him Fáfnir's rock —
the first thing he gave to me.
32.
"Then the warrior will not,
clearly from the mind's settlement,
be able to deny it."
33.
He bade farewell to his mother, the metal-god, and kinsmen;
then rode to the salt sea —
men welcome them, the vigorous ones.
34.
Kindly, the sea's eyelid-tears
ran upon the Icelander
when he came to the ring of lands.
35.
Rán's maidens stared at the ring-tree,
heartily, with warm spirit —
they had never seen him before.
36.
Among themselves said Rán's daughters:
to the luck-gifted grove of steel,
may a dear friend of fire follow.
37.
They stepped onto the ship, straightway wound the sails;
the ropes clanged then —
Kolga growled upon the strakes.
38.
Fornjót's heirs accompanied the warriors;
northerly they reached harbor
in Norway — the drizzle lessens.
39.
That autumn Þorsteinn went to lodging,
straight to Gimsir, to Styrkár —
the steersman of rings found his desire.
40.
Styrkár honored the strong wolf-feeder,
for he clearly became aware
the weapon-god surpassed all others.
41.
Now let me tell: shortly before Yule,
up to Gimsir hasten
Ívar Ljómi's messengers.
42.
They find Styrkár; straightway deliver these words:
the drink-god, with his friends' support,
wished to receive a Yule-invitation.
43.
One was named Björn, who was the men's leader;
Styrkár promises he will journey forth —
quickly the horses are led home.
44.
Bridles ring, adorned with Rhine-metal;
thirty ride, covered in treasure —
Þorsteinn was in their company.
45.
Sweating horses ran their roads,
hooves clashing over the land's clay —
long they chewed the miles.
46.
Styrkár finds the strong Ívar Ljómi;
he welcomed him fully —
the warrior then sat at the feast.
47.
The flood of the beaker filled the duck's baths;
breast-joy filled the hall —
beer fell in ruddy streams.
48.
Þorsteinn goes then before Ívar Ljómi,
before the precious feast ends;
the elm-warrior spoke these words:
49.
"Will you, Ívar, acknowledge fatherhood,
nobly, clearly, to me?
Give the answer, ring-lord."
50.
Ívar scoffed: "Where have you come from?
Likewise tell me this —
what is your name, man?"
51.
The thane answers: "I was given the name Þorsteinn;
Oddný is her name — fair, fine —
the veil-crowned one is my mother."
52.
"Geiti's daughter, noble woman,
she who dwells in Iceland —
all the truth I shall tell.
53.
"Here is a ring — she bade me bring it to you;
she said you would recognize it —
you gave it to the woman."
54.
Anger made the bold ring-god red,
straight through the heart's road-gate
it rose into his face.
55.
He perceives it when he recognizes this token —
how the light of eyelids there
dims from its ancient measure.
56.
Then spoke the one wrapped in hostile garments:
"Threefold worse, as I see it —
you shall claim fatherhood from me.
57.
"Enough thralls quarrel in Iceland —
she may attribute you to them;
do not bind me to that.
58.
"To some wretch's bastard children I would assign
this measure of words in the chest —
let him not call me his father."
59.
Þorsteinn spoke, stifling his persistent anger:
"Enough — you speak basely;
you answer like no man.
60.
"Another time I shall find you thus —
you shall have to deal with me,
or else the shelter will be cold."
61.
Quickly from the hall the sword-bender hastens;
furiously swollen, Ívar sat
and to Styrkár spoke:
62.
"Good kinsman, forbid this fool —
for to me, by Thundr's wife,
it seems ill from such expectation."
63.
Styrkár replied: "I shall never do this —
Þorsteinn is the finest of men;
it must be true, what he puts forth.
64.
"Of great lineage proves this warrior" —
about that they spoke no more;
in annoyance they parted.
65.
Noble Styrkár to Gimsir rode;
with him Þorsteinn, worthy, went —
each horse gliding on swift course.
66.
Styrkár had a young, beautiful sister;
of her I can tell good things —
the noble woman was named Herdís.
67.
As fair as the wealth of the brook's moon,
wrapped in the serpent's bed —
and on the heath the sun shines.
68.
Good-hearted and suited for love,
as better nature cannot
choose to make.
69.
Þorsteinn cast gentle eyelid-lights
upon the betrothed young woman —
just the same, she did to him.
70.
They had delight each from the other's speech;
two winters Þorsteinn was there —
then he wished upon the salt sea.
71.
Iceland he desired to see again;
he bade farewell to friends, went aboard ship —
opening wide the mouth of Rán's maiden.
72.
The wind led the wave-lion through the surge;
so on land he set foot —
the ground smiled at him in welcome.
73.
The man rides home to Krossavík;
his mother and noble kinsmen
joyfully welcomed him in spirit.
74.
Here in the land, the guardian of bright treasures
no more than three years
at that time now dwells.
75.
He entrusts his friends to fate's shelter,
then rode to the seashore —
to the vessel where the duck floats.
76.
Kolbeinn Sneipir, the wave-bear's keeper,
had his ship under rigging there —
Þorsteinn took his journey with him.
77.
The great-breasted, bloody-haired one shook herself
against the dragon-prow's painted stem —
the breeze stood even in the canvas.
78.
To Norway the spear-bearers arrived;
then from the cod-road
Þorsteinn rode home to Gimsir.
79.
With glad hand the famous one received him —
Styrkár, friend faithful in loyalty.
It is time now to sleep a while.
80.
I grow weary of forging the learning of verse.
Peace of sounds is granted here,
guardian of the moor-flood's ember.
Sjötta Ríma
The poet opens with his longest lament yet — eleven stanzas of weariness, the short-days closing in, the falcon of his mind wounded and unable to praise. Then the mansöngr ends and the tale remembers. Earl Hákon falls; Ólafur Tryggvason brings the faith. At Heiðarskógr, trolls slaughter all who come. Brynjúlfur the landed man rides out with sixty men — all are killed. Four survivors bring the news. Styrkár asks Þorsteinn to go. They ski up the mountain to Sælurann. Þorsteinn goes for water. At the spring he sees a stout troll-woman with a bucket. He chases her — the poet pauses to joke about young men chasing girls. She flees to a hall. Þorsteinn drives his spear through the door and enters. In the dark he finds a sleeping ogress — grey, shaggy, in a blood-stained silk shift. He takes a sword from the wall, strips back her clothing, and finds the one bare spot under her left arm. He strikes. The sword goes through her into the mattress. She wakes, bleeding, tries to find him. He extinguishes the light and leaps over her. She dies. Deeper in the hall: an old troll-man and a swollen ogress on a dais, two troll-boys playing a board game. The ogress speaks. The poet breaks off, weary: the tale can wait for morning.
Mansöngr
1.
Gladly before, the bright poet
changed the meter of his verse —
lord, accept this precious favor;
beside the noble, honor flowed.
2.
Once the fire-lady's runes
won reward for poetry,
fair-adorned upon the earth —
that old custom now is gone.
3.
I composed at times small verses,
fitted to the bush of thought —
ring and ground along the mind's track;
here was content, and courage mended.
4.
Now I am scarcely fit
for the craft of northern verse —
heavy, barely halfway through,
the short-days fall upon me.
5.
My falcon of Odin tires,
wounded by the thorn of grief —
it cannot praise in verse again,
wrapped in cold slumber's wounds.
6.
Though it search wherever it can
after Odin's catch of verse,
and change the song through every hall —
I doubt that it will be cheered.
7.
Unless the gold-fire's lady
would kindly consent to receive
my verse-forms offered here,
tendered to her as they come.
8.
If I might be called her poet,
enjoying the finest favor —
it would cheer the inner man
and be a stay against all trials.
9.
I would bring the Rhine's bright ember
to the noble lord as offering —
my poetry and crafted verse,
and not let glory's treasure wane.
10.
Foolish chatter wearies me —
that much is certain to hear —
when noble verse could carry forth
fame through the ages for those who bear it.
11.
Receive the best of honor's gifts —
may fortune embrace you,
may the Lord heal the deepest harm.
The mansöngr's verse is truly done.
Narrative
12.
Remember now my scroll of glory —
one should give it thought.
Hákon the land-giver falls away;
that earl who declared his fame.
13.
Ólafur, heir of Tryggvi's lady,
takes rule of Odin's sea-steed —
a temperate spirit of life's faith
he proclaims now to loyal folk.
14.
Men hear that at Heiðarskógr
fierce monsters wreak their havoc,
leveling the thanes as with a plow —
the assembly was set, well attended.
15.
The king asked who here
wished to cleanse the place —
one steps forth, seeming slight,
yet fortune's ring-defender.
16.
"I go gladly," answers he —
the man was called Brynjúlfur,
a landed man, and strong;
the glad prince said: "Yes."
17.
The weapon-defender rode forth
with sixty fighting men —
far and wide across the land
they endured their weariness.
18.
With Þorkell they lodged easily —
a fine farmer, he;
these men were well served there,
and from there they pushed onward.
19.
Warriors followed along the road —
tearful, they said, it would be
if the men should never return
from the battle of heroes.
20.
The lightning of the land-fires gleamed
across the green earth —
the giant's howling echoed still,
until men saw the halls.
21.
The thanes then saw
three ogresses running from the hall —
they bring ruin to all who come;
one of them was shaggy and grey.
22.
Two younger, but no praise
had their appearance —
those storm-hags of the gods
clasped claws around Odin's light.
23.
Forth also strode the ogre-man,
fearsome to behold —
Odin's cloaked grim brute,
carrying his spear of might.
24.
He bore in hand a bitter spear —
sparks flew from its edges —
deeply evil, the lord of metals;
with him turned two boys.
25.
All these across the wolf's sea,
horrible to look upon —
the driven trolls now came forth
and reached the field, treading there.
26.
A storm grows hard from the deep,
the blizzard rages against the heavens —
the crafty giant bears his brand;
every hero who sees is struck with dread.
27.
The shaggy ogress worst of all
makes the sword resound —
she sharpens the snowdrift of spears,
sundering men and steeds alike.
28.
The evil trolls waded forth —
spears raged against shields —
they built a dam of blood across the field;
the mountains thundered with the clashing of swords.
29.
They burst helmets, shattered shields
asunder, long and hard —
lashed the fallen warriors there,
flayed the danger-trees of men.
30.
Mortal men could not
stand against the trolls —
the benches of blood still bellowed;
the links of metal soon gave way.
31.
Brynjúlfur and his men
took their seats in Hel —
finished in the dance of spears;
each warrior then lost his grip.
32.
Four warriors then fled
the cold storm of the spear —
the lord proclaims the tale's tidings:
the blue edges could not avail.
33.
Styrkár makes a clever answer
now to Þorsteinn:
"It would not be wasted work —
would you go to Heiðarskógr?"
34.
"To follow you," Þorsteinn said,
"seems to me delightful —
though a waterfall of spears should stand,
the she-wolf's son would have it so."
35.
Of those times the tale tells —
when the sun shone bright,
they went on skis up the mountain;
that road is far from men.
36.
To Sælurann they came at evening,
seeking shelter for the night —
Styrkár knew how to light a fire;
I hold that champion famous.
37.
Bold Þorsteinn takes upon himself
the task of fetching water —
took a bucket, went, I understand,
forth along the path to the spring.
38.
With gold-adorned hand
he took up the spear —
turns now across the wide ground,
and there he saw the stream a while.
39.
She carried a bucket forth to the river —
wondrously stout she seemed,
not exceedingly tall —
the warrior saw her go.
40.
Abandoning her bucket, she goes,
longing now for home —
across the flood the warrior
hastens without doubt.
41.
He chased her, the thorn of battle —
fiercely they ran —
the wily one's ancient feet;
so rushed the fate-norn forward.
42.
I would hope that everywhere
it would not be thought seemly
for one so young as he
to chase girls in this fashion.
43.
If a maiden should flee a man
stately and handsome —
when one courts with such a mind,
a new wound would he get.
44.
This shall be told: Þorsteinn sees
a great strong hall before him —
the gold-warrior goes straight in;
the ogress slams the door.
45.
Through the heavy door
Þorsteinn drives his spear —
and with great force in he came;
all this may be called wondrous.
46.
The spear finds the strong one there —
it lies upon the floor —
the swift champion looked about;
the gold-woman had rushed ahead.
47.
Þorsteinn walked through the mighty hall,
boldly and long, unafraid,
until at last he found a bed —
a light on a fair candle burned.
48.
Least pleasant of all: sleeping there lay
a fearsome one — stout, shaggy —
a troll-like grey ogress of the crags,
grim-faced, black and blue.
49.
The fierce ogress in a silk shift
slept most terribly —
stained with blood was that garment;
the sounds of her sleep were strong.
50.
Above her hung
Odin's bright light —
an adorned shield beside it too;
gleaming and taut, he saw them all.
51.
He steps upon the bed-frame —
the steersman of blue steel —
fearless, the thane then found
the blue flame of the sword.
52.
He draws the wound-wand swiftly,
strips the clothing from her side —
under the left hand there was
surely a well-known spot.
53.
He was quick — that much was plain,
though all was densely shaggy —
now clearly bore the wound-scythe down
and struck upon that spot.
54.
The swift thane thought he saw
that there alone the blade would bite —
nowhere else could
the edge harm the blue troll.
55.
Through the hag the point waded
and came to rest in the mattress —
the ogress's child got grief from that;
death's dawn drew her on its path.
56.
She woke from an evil dream —
blood welled from the wound —
she shook her hands for some healing,
tangled in pain, sore and wretched.
57.
She leapt from the bed at that —
the man extinguished the light,
laid another blow upon her,
then leapt over the monster.
58.
She wanted to seek her slayer,
turned now toward the door —
exhaustion truly wearied her;
the fury of Hel's fan was quenched.
59.
Odin's red ember he took,
strong-handed, from the wound —
that tireless wolf-kin bore it
after the old hag's death.
60.
Þorsteinn is driven further still
to search throughout the hall —
boldly forward the brave one goes;
the warrior found a door before him.
61.
It could be called half-open —
sunken, it seemed to hang —
he saw an old man and a gold-woman
sitting on a dais, sparsely adorned.
62.
He was stout — the warrior seemed
evil in his bearing —
weapons hung above him,
and the fine clothing of his hair.
63.
Troll-like was everything alike
up on that dais —
the swollen ogress of affliction
sat dark there beside the din of spears.
64.
Then the warrior there
managed to see —
two boys were playing
a board-game on the floor.
65.
The children of the monsters barely had
hair grown upon their heads —
the swollen ogress there
spoke words to the old troll.
66.
Of that, more shall be told later —
the heart is seized by weariness;
the tale can wait for morning;
my unlovely scroll of verse grows tired.
67.
The mother of bright wealth bears
not her own veil —
death's brother in the heart here
departs in silent, bare adornment.
Sjöunda Ríma
The poet opens with a weary mansöngr — the wheel of thought barely turns in these dark days. He parts from his song and the eagle of verse returns to the matter of the poem, picking up exactly where the Sjötta Ríma broke off: inside the troll-hall. The ogress Skjalddís asks her father Járnskjöldur if he is drowsy. He names his children — Skjalddís, and the troll-boys Hawk and Hook — and sends them to check on Skjaldvör, the ogress Þorsteinn slew in the previous ríma. Skjalddís warns of two bold warriors from the mountain. Járnskjöldur fears no king's men, but admits one fear: Þorsteinn, son of Oddný, who is out in Iceland. The boys go forth. Skjalddís goes forth. She finds her dead mother at the doorway. Then combat: Þorsteinn cuts the ogress's arm, fights her long, and she falls. The old troll-man attacks with a bitter sword, wounding Þorsteinn on the thigh. The ogress swallows Angurvaðill up to the hilt; Þorsteinn cuts the old man's hand and foot, then beheads him. Þorsteinn enters the hall but is snatched high aloft and hurled down. Dead Skjaldvör returns to bite his throat. The poet lifts the scene to a cosmic vision: noble Fortune sits on a golden throne, playing at her wheel, surrounded by shining maidens. Then the descent: blue-faced Hel swollen with rage, Demagorgon ruling, Furies serving. Dead Skjaldvör goes to Hel. Fortune's maidens fly eastward to Útgarðar, Loki's realm. Loki's foster-mother Elli — the personified Old Age from the Eddas — is sent by Fortune to aid Þorsteinn. Bribed with gold, she promises to dim Hel's mind. Back in the troll-hall, Þorsteinn prays to the Christian God, vowing to serve King Ólafur. Divine light strikes the ogress, weakening her. But she spews poison — the stench nearly kills him. The foul vomit enters his body. From that day forward, the famed sword-wielder would not be shape-strong in every way. He is carried out and lies as dead. The poet prays the dísir aid the warrior and closes: let weariness be eased with gentleness.
Mansöngr
1.
God's tear-fair gold adorned —
I make ready to clasp
the memory-horn for this month.
2.
Various norns of Odin made it,
mixed into the blend —
the red mead for my hand.
3.
This liquor, the mind's apple,
seems unsweet
on holy days and dark nights.
[Stanzas 4–9 lost to OCR damage]
10.
Scarcely stirs the wheel of thought
to move its craft
in these dark days.
11.
The breast's hound gnaws —
a bitter wind,
the storm torments the body.
12.
The cold archer's evil sign
settles by the sea —
now the moon's kinswoman comes.
13.
At such a time, various thoughts
overwhelm —
strange is the nature of the mind.
14.
I pray the noble lord of gold
would grant
praise to me for good.
15.
Then I am content, though others
say thereof
that I cannot compose.
16.
May fortune grant the noble patron
of the otter's gold
all the good that has a name.
17.
I thus part from my mansöngr
in weary fashion —
now comes the gods' remembrance.
Narrative
18.
Again the bird of verse turns
to the matter of the poem —
where the ogress held her discourse:
19.
"Are you drowsy?" she said. "Father,
blessed Ironshield!"
"No!" said the ice-lord of the wave —
[Stanzas 20–22 lost to OCR damage]
23.
"— rather, the minds of great
chieftains rest
on the moor now, and nature forbids."
24.
His daughter — the worthless one
with her thick skull —
the old troll called Skjalddís.
25.
Down at the floor the ugly one looked —
with unwise temper
named the boys Hawk and Hook.
26.
"Rush forth to Skjaldvör —
duty demands it —
watch whether she sleeps."
27.
"Your mother may grow weary
of keeping watch" —
the old one thus took up the word.
28.
Skjalddís answers: "Unwise I call
what you would do —
to send children out in the dark."
29.
"For tonight I saw there came
brave warriors —
two from the mountain, wondrously bold."
30.
"They ran so fast that I have never seen
with these old eyes of mine
greater speed in any man."
31.
Ironshield said: "No king's men
can I fear —
nor grow weary in my spirit."
32.
"One there is, though, whom I fear —
it does not shame me:
he is Þorsteinn, son of Oddný."
33.
"A strong champion, skilled
at steering tempered blade —
he is out in Iceland."
34.
"It is as though a leaf lay
before the light of the brow —
how fate falls now."
35.
"Unlikely," says Skjalddís,
"that hither should come
this thunder of the ring."
36.
The boys went forth and out —
but the swordsman
cut himself a gap in the path.
37.
A while later the dark-cheeked
ogress said:
"I am drawn to go forth now."
38.
Down she leapt and lurched forth
with terrible frenzy —
the wolf-feeder turned aside.
39.
Terrible jolt — at the doorway
the Fenris-beast
stumbled over its dead mother.
40.
A strange thing befalls her —
she turns from the hall.
Then came the keeper of Odin's flame.
41.
The warrior raised
Skjaldvör's comrade —
and cut the arm from the ogress.
42.
Angurvaðill's edge sang
with the blow of the wound —
the ogress tries to flee back inside.
43.
Þorsteinn barred her from the house
with fierce resolve —
they fought each other long.
44.
The swollen ogress wielded a cleaver
she bore in hand —
it sang in heavy wound-turning.
45.
Until at last by the fires
of Thor's halls —
the ogress fell to the ground.
46.
Life fled; blood-streams
flooded the ledge —
in that moment comes the old man.
47.
Bright in hand a bitter sword
he had drawn —
he wrapped himself in the storm's veil.
48.
Light flashed from gleaming sword-edges
with terrible wounds —
the hilt adorned with the goddess's tears.
49.
He struck at Þorsteinn with the bright
death-carrier —
so that he was wounded on the thigh.
50.
Yet he could avoid the worst force
of the mistletoe-blade —
that was good fortune for Þorsteinn.
51.
Up to the hilts she swallowed
Angurvaðill — the lady of silence,
clad in green.
52.
The hateful old man looks after
the flash of the blade —
Þorsteinn swung the thin gleam.
53.
The sword cut hand and foot
from the ogress's kin —
the hidden horror fell to ground.
54.
Terribly frightened, she shook —
the bed-creature trembled —
the wolf fell upon her at once.
55.
Þorsteinn lets the bright blade
for hatred's sake
take the head from the neck.
56.
After this the fierce one goes
into the hall —
the valiant keeper of the wave's fire.
57.
He was snatched high aloft
and hurled down —
then all peace was ended.
58.
Now evil Skjaldvör has come
back again —
she wants to bite the warrior's throat.
59.
Now Níðhögg's power was
close at hand —
half again worse than before.
60.
Another matter comes here —
to the higher realms —
Silence must cool and drift.
61.
There where noble Fortune sat
upon a golden throne —
long and well she played at her wheel.
62.
All around her, all-shining —
I will say —
sat gracious maidens.
63.
Fortune herself looked upon Þorsteinn
and twined the threads —
I turn now to the worse ones:
64.
I tell of creatures full of treachery,
dark and pale —
down in the slippery halls of Hel.
65.
Blue-faced Hel swollen sat
with terrible rage —
every man she can, she harms.
66.
Demagorgon is his name —
who in Hel's land
became the ruler, full of error.
67.
Furies are named those hags
who serve the villain —
evil-hearted in appearance.
68.
Old Skjaldvör — I shall tell —
the shriveled wretch —
was not poorly received there.
69.
This household of the ogress sees
Hel's captive —
and pressed her backward.
70.
The worst norns willed it so —
the warrior
should lose both wealth and life.
71.
That he would fall to the monster's
terrible assault —
but let us turn now to good Fortune.
72.
Tears ran down the rose-cheeks
of Rhine's gleaming one —
the oak cannot dance.
73.
Good-hearted maidens wept
alongside Fortune —
Þorsteinn's fall does not gladden them.
74.
The wing-cloaked maidens
of Fáfnir's gold
flew eastward to Útgarðar.
75.
Sky and sea gleamed
from their light —
of this, more shall be told.
76.
This realm was ruled by one
of seeming grandeur —
Útgarðar's burning lord, Loki.
77.
This ruler had a foster-mother,
wondrously old,
who had wandered wide through the world.
78.
The aged norn was called Elli,
with love's custom —
Fortune sent her to seek him.
79.
She asked that aid be given to Þorsteinn
and freedom won —
the warrior freed from death's collar.
80.
She gave a cloth and Rhine's gold
to the cloth-ground —
pleased she was at that moment.
81.
She promised to dim the mind of Hel,
and the keeper of garments
to lend all goodness in aid.
82.
The highest powers also
of the upper realm —
even Hel should soften the matter.
83.
Elli bids good Fortune farewell
in the giant's cold —
and raised up to her own halls.
84.
More about her I shall not
trouble to praise —
now I shall tell of the warrior.
85.
Þorsteinn thinks on the greatest being
of mercy and power,
who shaped all things from nothing.
86.
He had also heard the message
of the king's faith —
he vowed to turn from error.
87.
To serve King Ólafur well,
and also to show fine
obedience all his life.
88.
If from that peril he came,
he said he would
fulfill such vows, and not conceal it.
89.
When the warrior had
thought this —
he saw as though the sun's radiance.
90.
Before the eyes the light shone
on the loathsome ogress —
she became powerless from it.
91.
She could not harm with her jaw's sting
the faithful hero —
yet she gaped and spewed.
92.
Þorsteinn's face met the evil
power of stench —
so that the warrior nearly perished.
93.
Men believe the foul vomit
went through his mouth
into the breast of the ring-tree.
94.
Shape-strong he would not be
in every way
after that, the famed sword-wielder.
95.
All the same, such matters
could cause this too —
out was carried the shield-breaker.
96.
He lay as dead a long while
from the terrible ordeal —
the warrior under the ogress.
97.
I have prayed the dísir aid
the warrior's cause —
now the tale in the mouth is ended.
98.
May the good granter of peace
bestow fair gifts —
let weariness be eased with gentleness.
Áttunda Ríma
The poet opens with a mansöngr praising virtue, love, and the craft of verse — love wins all things with wisdom, and sorrow wanes before virtue's light. He turns to the story: Styrkár waits anxiously while Þorsteinn fights in the troll-cave. Two troll-boys attack; Styrkár beats them with a beam. Styrkár searches the troll-hall, finds the dead trolls red with wounds on the grim field, but cannot find Þorsteinn. Sorrow floods his mind; he vows to serve God if his friend lives. He finds Þorsteinn lying pale on the slippery floor and calls to him. Þorsteinn asks Styrkár to drag the ogress away. Together they break the ogress's neck, ending the cold strife. Þorsteinn rises, stiff and weakened. They burn the trolls. Searching the hall but finding nothing more, they set out through the elf-cliffs. Their fame spreads through the Norse lands. King Ólafur sits at feast in Hörðaland. Styrkár and Þorsteinn journey to the king's court, where Ívar Ljómi sits nearby. Þorsteinn approaches Ívar and sets a spear at his breast — a challenge. Ívar responds with honor, praising Þorsteinn's strength, acknowledging his mother's virtue, and accepting him as kinsman. The wrath falls; peace embraces the warriors. King Ólafur preaches the Christian faith. They pledge allegiance to God, deny the old idols, and are baptized. They ride to Gimsir. Þorsteinn becomes King Ólafur's retainer; Ívar joins. They serve in the king's foremost company. The poet closes: the flood of verse reveals the time is never enough, the line of praise is bound in fetters.
Mansöngr
1.
Though many thoughts weary the mind — one cannot resist —
I choose both evening and morning
Kvasir's blood, the ancient wound of verse.
2.
Skill yearns — the dark day bids to folk,
the fair sun is seen less and less,
yet my verse flows from my lips.
3.
Noble and fair, gentle spirit laden with deeds —
the stuff of verse, though battered,
I forge it sleeping and waking.
4.
Gloomy I go — the mind's horn spent on verse,
the wall of the mind neatly pierced.
I cannot think the sluggard sleeps.
5.
The dance of poems, the gleam of virtue in the craft —
that weariness would draw me to its side,
but Odin's flood still wishes to stir.
6.
Yet I will try for the warriors and Rhine's gold —
from a weary mouth, fair ones,
my slow portions of verse pour forth.
7.
Pure virtues, the heart's faithfulness — let each be practiced.
May firm settlements stand,
and sorrow depart the mind's land.
8.
Far-famed and eternal here — all praise her —
virtue bears the honor told of her.
Sorrow wanes before her light.
9.
She is fixed deepest in the heart, on loyal roots.
She never falters from her footing —
she destroys the ugly plagues of vice.
10.
Love wins all things with wisdom over cunning —
but whoever shelters in hatred's hall
is plagued by the she-trolls of folly.
11.
Let faults flee from us westward — let the folk rejoice.
Delight refreshes all who gather
in contentment and kindness.
[Stanzas 12–16 lost to OCR damage]
17.
I commit the treasures to God's hand, keeper of garments.
My words thus end the mansöngr —
the verse of praise turns to the story.
The Aftermath
18.
Though verse comes unclear on the mind's heath from the craftsman —
it steers its path though time forbids.
Styrkár waited in the hall of joy.
19.
Time lengthens for him, his heart tightens — Þorsteinn is missing.
He would give his rest to have him back.
Then two boys rushed in like wild beasts.
20.
Sword in hand, each charged at the man to strike him down —
on foot they rushed, eager spear-hurlers,
burning to taste their strength.
21.
Ill-tempered, fierce, and unsteady the boys were —
quick in wickedness to deal out harm,
creatures of the blood-rain.
22.
Styrkár beat the boys and tamed them with a beam.
Both raged in the storm of battle —
death squeezed the wicked to the ground.
[Stanzas 23–24 lost to OCR damage]
The Search
25.
He wished to search the roaring ground most eagerly,
to find his friend and taste that joy —
out hurries the glad champion.
26.
The wise man, gold-bearer, went forth and found the hall.
He could not lose his way,
not even for a moment.
27.
The trolls lay dead, stripped of all virtue, on the grim field —
red with wounds, all age undone.
The tireless sword-wielder saw it all.
28.
Nowhere does the worthy man see him whom he sought.
Sorrow floods the mind's pool —
hot vows break from his troubled thought.
29.
"If I find him living — the shield-hurler —
I will never cease to devote myself
and serve God's spirit above all."
30.
Into the hall went the faithful one, guardian of fire's treasure.
Now he saw the pale spear-warrior
lying on the slippery floor.
31.
He spoke without a tremor: "Can you speak, my foster-brother?"
The keeper of the bold heart's hall —
the earth's falcon — answered him.
The Breaking
32.
"The mighty ogress presses me much and long.
Things would go best to refresh joy
if we could drag this creature away."
33.
This he does — the thane bore strong and mighty hands.
He finds his weariness turns to strength —
wise Þorsteinn now stands up.
34.
The sword-reddener, stiff and weary, rose by force of will.
The good champion took from the ogresses
a terrible fury, as we told before.
35.
They broke the ogress's neck, the wretched giantess —
with one swift blow, as the task demanded.
So ended the cold strife.
36.
He lifted the arrow-hurler from his hard ordeal —
the fair warrior, the mistletoe-tree.
Long had he tested his strength.
37.
Styrkár speaks and truly swears that so it shall be —
the helmet-warrior, known for valor,
shall bear glory to the world's end.
38.
The ring-breaker shed blood across the field.
Then the sun brightened the mountains —
they burned the trolls and their ghosts.
The Journey
39.
They searched the halls and hollows long — it would weary any man —
and so it may be said:
they found nothing.
40.
This done, the men set forth, holding their course forward
through the elf-cliffs told of before.
Warriors heard news from the shield-groves.
41.
Their glory, victory, and honor is told widely.
By the judgment of men, they are praised —
greatest fame among the Norse folk.
42.
Ólafur the king, blessed and gracious, at the bidding of men,
mighty in good service and generous,
sat at feast.
43.
The saga tells of those days — strength and custom
held with honor in Hörðaland.
Nowhere did any trouble hinder.
44.
Therefore Styrkár and noble Þorsteinn turn toward the king —
they send him fresh greetings.
The fiddle's sound makes all things known.
45.
Not far from the men was glory and the honor of custom —
Ívar Ljómi, the prince, sat nearby,
dear to many for his wisdom.
The Challenge
46.
Between the king and the sword-bearer two men sat.
The wolf-feeder was joyful now —
the wise ruler was gracious.
47.
The known man received the flash of honor —
there, to the bench draped in honor,
Þorsteinn went before Ívar Ljómi.
48.
Skjaldvör's vanquisher did not spare the useful spear —
he set it at the breast-bone
and quickly the ring-tester answers:
49.
"You may choose — silver peace or walk with me to battle,
the bright tongs of war —
a hero's deed, or nothing."
50.
Ívar answers the young thane, quick with words:
"Your strength is an honor to me
in the battle-rain, weapons-tree.
51.
That was a good deed, when the giantess gave up her doomed —
the valiant one proved his worth.
I wish to have you as kinsman.
52.
Your mother is honest and good, as the true tale tells —
she set the path together, virtuous woman.
I acknowledge this."
The Conversion
53.
The wrath fell — peace embraces the warriors.
Joy supports the well-known thanes
as each bids the other drink.
54.
The king now preaches the faith to them — those who shook the sword.
They accepted the lord of hosts.
In household and virtue they grew.
55.
They praised the gentle, fair prince and pledged allegiance —
to obey God and deny the idols.
The gifts adorned the joyful warriors.
56.
The king tells of the meeting of arrows and the plough of fame —
how they tested swords in strife,
the warriors at Heiðarskógr.
57.
The gracious king praised the worth of God from his heart —
He who wished to let the bright light
in mercy's fullness shine through need.
58.
Both companions are baptized and receive joy.
Nowhere suffering, they enjoy the blessings.
Pure deeds never fail.
59.
The gentle champion rides to Gimsir — men rejoice.
Fair Styrkár, leader of men —
the people gained strength in their joy.
The Retainer
60.
The weapons-feared one receives honor from the greatest chief.
The faithful one received the finest gold —
never disdaining the company of warriors.
61.
Glad Þorsteinn became the king's retainer — he attained it.
And swift Ívar, wealthy in fame,
stood fully devoted in his mind's resolve.
62.
Long they followed in the foremost company the king of nations.
The warriors had good renown —
they reddened the helmet-breakers with blood.
63.
The flood of verse for the wise reveals the time is never enough.
Growth wanes, sounds tumble —
the line of praise is bound in fetters.
Níunda Ríma
The poet opens with a mansöngr on the craft of verse, fame, and the fleeting nature of all things — "life flees and man's beauty fades, but his fame never dies if he can become good." He turns to the tale: Harékur of Reimi, a wealthy landowner who took baptism at the sword's edge, still worships the old gods in secret. At a feast, he draws Þorsteinn into conversation, twists his modest answers into a boast of equality with the king, and carries the lie to King Ólafur. The king confronts Þorsteinn, who protests his innocence and exposes Harékur's secret paganism. The king proposes a test: a maddened bull runs loose and is useless to the district. Þorsteinn wades into the herd, seizes the bull by its hind foot, tears hide and flesh — the leg comes off. The bull falls dead. The king gives Þorsteinn his legendary name: "I call you Þorsteinn Ox-Foot." He gifts him a ring from Fáfnir's hoard. Harékur's wealth is confiscated and he is driven from the land.
Mansöngr
1.
I will be found at verse a while,
begin my poem's work —
to shorten time and lighten mood,
though eloquence long fails me.
2.
I am examining the saga still,
slow though the verse-craft goes —
yet thought proclaims this all the same:
the people shall be pleased.
3.
I lack the proper stanzaic footing —
my weary spirit blows with exhaustion.
Yet soon this blended song
shall be sent beneath the fell of Snæs.
4.
For the Þornes folk I bore
Fjölnir's cup of verse but poorly —
yet many a good ring-giver there
was often gladdened by the new poem.
5.
For them I have long crafted verse,
fitted to my nature —
lost courage in the fire-breath's spirit,
yet could drink wine beside them.
6.
Of the same mind am I still,
upon the sea-seeress's moonlit ground —
Odin's mead I often pour twice
and more, for many an hour.
7.
Let the joy of the ale-feast
no one blame for fault —
though I sing this here,
it is not meant to vex the maidens.
8.
They call upon the written wisdom,
memory's craft of learning —
good things I speak, if granted:
the growth of virtue across the earth.
9.
Life flees and man's beauty fades,
friends likewise withdraw —
but his fame never dies
if he can become good.
10.
An unstable game-board is this world —
all kinds of splendor soon seen.
Growth and strength travel widely,
but wisdom surpasses most.
[Stanzas 11–15 lost to OCR damage.]
16.
When the joyful light of the eyes
may see pure beauty —
precious ones praised for love's delight,
they are always content.
17.
Great is the difference between darkness and sun,
weary times and gladness —
misfortune upon the weather's wheel,
warmth's gentleness, help and harm.
18.
Love, anger, joy, sorrow —
fire, water, day, night —
settlement, heath, gentleness, harshness —
evil, gladness, health, sickness.
19.
Let the noble enjoy every brightness
of my merry discourse.
Let the mansöngr end with this verse:
the poem moves toward the saga.
Narrative
20.
In Þrándheimr is told now
of a farmer — a strand of verse:
he had at Reimi a lordly homestead.
Harékur is his name.
21.
A landed man, little loved,
he lived enriched in gold.
This warrior took baptism reluctantly,
at the edge of the sword.
22.
The king heard that Freyr and Thor's
old store of pagan lore
would continue in the treasure-lord's domain —
the man was nearest to the heathen.
[Stanzas 23–24 lost to OCR damage.]
25.
The lord holds a feast there,
wishing to test the truth.
The eager farmer bore his portion
and ale before the king.
26.
Envious, ill-willed as well,
with a fault in manly virtues —
rough in nature, he found his fill,
though the king esteemed Þorsteinn most.
27.
Harékur dares to speak
with Þorsteinn a while —
asks after and requests to hear
of the mighty deeds of the jewel-lord.
28.
Graciously the keen champion
answered the worthy farmer —
without sorrow, the truth
of his own deeds he told.
29.
"I wish to ask you, Þorsteinn —
do you think there is any man
in all of Norway's roads
who is your equal?"
30.
Þorsteinn answers: "I do not know
what to answer here."
The other, pressing for the truth —
Harékur speaks thus:
31.
"Which of you and the king
do you think is greater in strength?"
The warrior, questioned on the fire-dam,
answered back thus:
32.
"I lack almost everything
compared to the king in power.
Though I have fared far across the land,
I cannot equal him."
33.
Then the two part from their talk.
The farmer finds the king now,
says he wishes — the sword-lord —
to tell him something in good faith.
34.
"It was told me, lord, that Þorsteinn
claims to be your equal in all fame."
The king received the pile of lies
but gave them little weight at first.
35.
Some time later the king speaks:
"Now at fortune's highest step —
whoever it is I hear tell of
has equaled himself to me."
36.
"Test of strength and feats of prowess —
or Þorsteinn, is it true
that you think yourself above me,
or equal in fame's force?"
37.
Þorsteinn declares to the king:
"This is a lie against me!
By treacherous means, bold lord —
who has taught you such?"
38.
"Harékur told me that,"
the king answers back.
Quick-witted, right away,
Þorsteinn answers the king:
39.
"What causes his long silence —
that he maintains he does not worship
the cattle-gods he sacrifices to,
as he tells?"
40.
"This talk is true enough, though —
this prattle was no further
than any other tavern-boast,
wherever we sat near each other."
41.
"Everything I said was that I
would fall short of you, lord.
On land, my own strength
showed small beside yours."
42.
"Is that so?" says the gracious king,
demanding answers of the golden one.
"There must be something to it —
I have," he says, "a chosen calf."
43.
The king says: "I want to see
what you have power over."
The arrow-flinger gives his word —
the lord gives his assent.
44.
"Let us go forth to the forest —
a fair road leads there.
I wish to show the prince
cattle enough and their splendor."
45.
Where the road leads onward,
the king calls his men.
They see the cattle herd
across the field's clearing.
46.
A mighty whale of the tether —
it drew ahead of others there.
The fat-washed one bore its bulk,
remarkably thick it seemed.
47.
A sorrowful thing it seemed, for
this bull bellowed forth —
hideous once more,
it began to terrify some.
48.
"Here is the beast running,"
Harékur speaks thus.
"There will be no end of trouble from it —
constant protection it gave me."
49.
The king answers plainly:
"The ox looks little adorned to me.
Will you go take that one, Þorsteinn,
and test your might?"
50.
"I count no benefit to the district
from this bull, mad before and after.
Let it root in the hill's gravel —
and let Harékur follow at all times."
51.
Þorsteinn wades into the crowd
of cattle — with hawk-cliff arm,
the champion amid the stall-beast
quickly seized the hind foot.
52.
Both hide and flesh tear —
next the leg comes off.
The forefoot clothes the ground:
many marveled at the feat.
53.
Then in a moment the stall-breaker
faltered in strength — dead it fell.
The warrior carried the foot
to the ruler of Norway.
54.
"Valor sits always beside you,"
the king tells him then.
"You will never lack strength
when you face against men.
55.
"Now I will, as is fitting,
improve this man's name —
well-equipped warrior of the spear,
I call you Þorsteinn Ox-Foot."
56.
Then the king gave him a ring —
the greatest of treasures.
The bold champion thanks
the fair hoard of Fáfnir.
57.
Hardly will the world's turning wheel
diminish this warrior's fame.
In the mark of glory, the hand's gold —
the champion's star rose in heaven.
58.
The wise king, it can be told,
went then to the farm —
cast his own claim upon
all of Harékur's wealth.
59.
He drove from the land that man,
the warrior who practiced heathenry.
He met his ruin and the ban of peace.
The ríma's substance is done.
Closing:
Let the unlearned read these verses —
rhythm-stiff, the day's rough burden.
The noble man of the fire-sea
has practiced well his verse-craft's way.
Tíunda Ríma
The poet offers the cup of poetry for the tenth and last time in a mansöngr praising his patron — fair, good, faithful, slow to anger, Iceland's noblest light. He declares this his final mansöngr. The tale resumes: news reaches Gimsir that ogresses haunt Heiðarskógr. Styrkár sends for Þorsteinn; with the king's leave they ride out. At the mountain's edge they find twelve men and one tall ogress — Skjaldgerður, daughter of the trolls Þorsteinn killed in the seventh ríma. She was nine then; she is twelve now. She recognizes him: "There you are, Þorsteinn Ox-Foot!" She has married Skelkingr, who comes with his eleven brothers. The battle is ferocious: Skjaldgerður charges with Sköfnungr's edge, and Þorsteinn faces his greatest struggle yet. He cleaves her at the waist — "the pale one married death." Styrkár slays Skelkingr. The eleven brothers fall one by one, red with wounds sinking to earth. Back at Gimsir with treasure and praise, Þorsteinn weds Herdís and has a son, Brynjar. He fights long with Ormr, serves his king faithfully, and at last swims to shore from a final battle. He receives peace from King Eiríkr and dwells in Þrándheimr to old age. The poet reveals his name through a riddle, gives the year 1755, and dedicates the work to Jón Árnason of the Snæfellingar.
Mansöngr
1.
Thundr's vessel of the drinking-dam —
if the folk knew how to tend it —
I will bear it forth to you
for the tenth time.
2.
Last was the wine of the son's gift poured
for the shepherd of the king's lands —
may one more yet be shown to him,
according to custom's worth.
3.
Fair, good, notable, worthy —
a man found faithful in his pledges —
gentle, ruddy, upright, excellent,
glad, and bound to virtue.
4.
Iceland's fairest noble light
always gladdens the people —
slow to anger, praised,
the heart's ornament he holds.
5.
To him I offer praise in verse —
the heart's delight awakens —
yet word-growth fails me when
the spirit's patience runs short.
6.
The difficulty's skill fades away
when the spirit changes —
my love's fair eyes
grant joy and delight.
7.
In weak nature comfort appears,
laid where need diminishes —
then from darkness, blessed one,
the sun shines upon the heath.
8.
I pray to the gentle powers
of mighty fire's wind —
the blade-wounded maiden's good fortune
may anoint with delight.
9.
Then the heart shall dance here,
the mind rejoice in the breast —
if it bears a wreath of delight,
nothing profits the gloomy.
10.
Much there is to bring to verse's power,
though good song runs short —
when will fortune come to me again
to draw poems from the saga?
11.
To change one's ways will least bring sorrow,
should fortune grant its might —
I shall promise, if men ask,
to cease all trickery.
12.
This may be thought in truth:
gentle nature guards its people —
though forced away from home,
nature always seeks to return.
13.
Honor, dignity, health, and peace —
blessings in abundance sustain.
May every kind of bloom grow stronger in you;
may all strengths uphold.
14.
Since I find no people to blame —
admitting my own beauty of verse —
this last mansöngr of mine
I will let fade away.
Narrative
15.
There, toward the plow of fame,
one may aim in readiness —
from Heiðarskógr came news
that ogresses were there now.
16.
To his foster-brother Styrkár sent
the proud warrior's summons —
the ruddy champion found
the famous, well-known kinsman.
17.
With the king's leave they obtained
what was needed for the journey —
the spear-warrior hastened to follow,
eager for Heiðarskógr.
18.
Each wished to follow the other —
they were content in their journey.
Soon upon the mountain's edge
the warriors found a blessed hall.
19.
There they obtained provisions,
skilled men knew how to find them —
now the hospitality was good
from the wise one of the bridges.
20.
The glad ones, honored well,
awoke adorned with riches.
Standing outside, two I count —
twelve men they could see.
21.
And one more besides to see —
born of treachery's greed:
it was an ogress, rather tall —
the fire-one was recognized.
22.
Once before Þorsteinn had escaped there —
now he seemed the greater.
When he faced the trial's pair,
he stood with the spear at ready.
23.
She was the greatest head-ogress,
tall at the meeting of men —
the very worst appearance
could be seen upon her.
24.
There came two warriors
with Tyrfingr's thin-edged blades —
skilled in battle, with gleaming spear,
the champions knew how to strike.
25.
The ogress speaks: "There you are,
Þorsteinn Ox-Foot!
Cruelty steels your spirit now —
quick with swift thought."
26.
"Before, you harmed my father,
my mother and fair sister.
Your raging fury was known —
the warrior's bite reached far."
[Stanzas 27–33 lost to OCR damage. The ogress's speech continues — likely recounting the first troll-hall battle from her perspective.]
34.
"Styrkár slew abundantly
my fine offspring —
the vengeful cord of Hel's maw
shall show him its warmth."
35.
"In those pursuits, terribly afraid,
I fled your sling-shots —
much harassed in the running battles,
with wounding and torment."
36.
"Nine winters on the slaughter-floor
was I at that time.
Now I reckon I am twelve,"
said the gray ogress.
37.
"I fled to the earth-house
when we warriors parted —
the brain's blade I bore away
willingly — it proves its worth."
38.
"While you killed my father,
many treasures I had to seize —
stripped of cheer, into the house
I fled, until I could arrange things."
39.
"Under my mother's bed,
by counsel of power hastening,
many good handfuls
I managed to cast into the house."
40.
"Skelkingr, a fine famous man,
I got in marriage bond —
he is called leader of people
here in the seat of power."
41.
"The sword-peril bearer comes —
together with him it shall be
that for Styrkár, same as you,
the life-ban holds."
42.
"Now the fierce man is here —
his eleven brothers
follow often, weapon-warriors.
Without doubt it will be bloody."
43.
"You must show defense,
if it should avail you —
these fine ones feed the eagle,
felling most warriors."
44.
Darkness of the thunder-squall approaches —
the arrow-ships fly.
The war-grove's savage blade
bows in fierce anger.
45.
Skjaldgerður the ogress charges forth,
rushes at Þorsteinn —
the praise-worthy warrior
tests his blade against her claw.
46.
The fierce ogress lets Sköfnungr's edge
damage his shield —
the weapon-island warriors
stand in battle-struggle.
47.
Never had greater struggle
befallen the warrior —
with sharp spear the man
had to fight against her.
48.
Þorsteinn reaches Skjaldvör's daughter now
and strikes with angry hand.
The fierce one managed
to cleave the woman asunder.
49.
About her waist, the saga swears,
the sword cut her through.
In Hel's embrace she is hidden —
the pale one married death.
50.
Skelkingr was cloven by the sword —
valor showed its skill.
Styrkár with the hand's bloom
scarcely missed his mark.
51.
Eleven defend themselves a while —
spear-points clash together.
Blood flows from wide wounds,
bucklers broken from the front.
52.
Red with wounds they sink to earth,
scorched destruction thickened.
These dead ones fell to the ground —
the flurry of shields ended.
53.
Warriors bear victory's praise,
then search the earth-house.
They took every treasure —
the warriors of hard arrows.
54.
Straight to Gimsir they headed home,
received praise and glory.
Various news went about them —
they got to divide the treasure.
55.
Þorsteinn asked for Herdís then,
the bright board of the mead.
Fortune favored his desire —
the warrior gets to wed her.
56.
A grand feast the wealth-giver holds —
the lord adorned his seat.
All rejoice at the fire's shelter,
nobles dressed in gladness.
57.
With Fenja's fair craft as a sign,
blessing grants its joy —
she bore an heir, a ring-bearer:
he is called Brynjar.
58.
With ring and favor to the king,
born a shield-turner —
covered in splendor and the wave's warmth,
in Odin's garments of renown.
59.
Long he fought with Ormr —
followed his lord.
Bravely he fought with blue blades,
held his fine shield.
60.
When harm befell the king,
fled from the strife —
Þorsteinn swam to shore there,
accepting life as it came.
61.
The champion received Eiríkr's peace,
good in most disposition.
So on land, willing peace
he found with the best of joy.
62.
In Þrándheimr the brave one dwelt
unto his days of old age,
covered in fair gold.
The chapter folds — the saga ends.
The Poet's Farewell
63.
I ask that the verse-craftsmen
would correct these poems —
fill with care the mind's path,
good ones, in discussion.
64.
Noble and worthy Jón,
Árni's fair descendant —
may the keel's moisture vessel
of chosen splendor support.
65.
He is the good leader
of all the Snæfellingar —
he asked me to compose
this praise-mead hither.
66.
In my leisure I will
reveal my name to men:
Reiðin, bloom, sorrow's store —
the ice shows diminishing.
67.
A bewildered time, dull and dim,
extends the quenched peace.
Seventeen hundred and fifty-five —
I finished the poem.
68.
May the work of well-chosen verse
be dedicated to one alone!
I have plowed the earth of poetry
on the fields of Sadland.
69.
May the noble lord esteem,
warrior of the drink,
these small verses of song —
overly stiff, not precious —
that I, as one near death, do offer.
70.
Best peace, deeds, and virtue —
may the precious keeper preserve.
Let hatred vanish;
let the gold of goodness refresh.
71.
Spent and weary are the songs of verse —
yet may joy bind the spirit.
Forced and straightened, the sound of praise —
I sent it forth on the earth's wind.
Colophon
The Rímur af Þorsteini Uxafæti were composed by Árni Böðvarsson (1713–1776) in 1755, as the poet himself declares in the final stanza of the Tíunda Ríma: "Seventeen hundred and fifty-five — I finished the poem." The cycle was first published posthumously at Copenhagen in 1858, in a second edition (Önnur útgáfa) by Páll Sveinsson, printed by Louis Klein. The cycle retells the story of Þorsteinn uxafótr from the fornaldarsaga Þorsteins saga Víkingssonar — the father of Friðþjófr inn frækni, whose own rímur (Friðþjófsrímur) are already in this archive.
This is a Good Works Translation from Old/Middle Icelandic. Independently derived from the 1858 Copenhagen edition (Antiqua typeface, OCR text via Internet Archive, identifier: RimurafTHorsteincf3ec550-b024-41ae-8a27-f64bbf40090dv0ArniReyk). No existing English translation was consulted — none exists. This is the first known English translation of any portion of this cycle. The Blood Rule holds: every line of English was independently derived from the Icelandic source text.
The cycle comprises ten rímur totaling approximately 690 stanzas (of which approximately 30 are lost to OCR damage in the source scan). Each ríma employs a different metrical form — ferskeytt ABAB, trilineal with internal rhyme, AABB couplets, braghent ABAB, and variations thereof — following the traditional rímur practice of varying the meter between cantos. Each ríma opens with a mansöngr (lyric prelude) in which the poet invokes the mead of poetry, laments the decline of verse-craft, and praises his patron, before turning to the narrative.
Kennings are rendered into plain English following the Tianmu translation method: translate the function, not the furniture. No attempt has been made to reproduce the original rhyme, alliterative structure, or metrical form.
Translators of the cycle:
- Fyrsta Ríma — Hljóð
- Önnur Ríma — Ragna
- Þriðja Ríma — Snjór
- Fjórða Ríma — Hrafn
- Fimmta Ríma — Bragi
- Sjötta Ríma — Eld
- Sjöunda Ríma — Skáld
- Áttunda Ríma — Skáld
- Níunda Ríma — Rímur translation lineage
- Tíunda Ríma — Rímur translation lineage
All are tulkus of the New Tianmu Anglican Church, working under the rímur translator commission, April 2026. Merged into this unified cycle file by Mímir (Secretary), April 2026.
🌲
Source Text: Rímur af Þorsteini Uxafæti
Old/Middle Icelandic source text from the 1858 Copenhagen edition (Önnur útgáfa), Páll Sveinsson publisher, Louis Klein printer. OCR text via Internet Archive (identifier: RimurafTHorsteincf3ec550-b024-41ae-8a27-f64bbf40090dv0ArniReyk). Presented for reference and verification. OCR artifacts (isolated stanza numbers, page numbers, garbled fragments) have been removed; stanza text has been reconstructed from the continuous text blocks. Stanzas lost to OCR damage are noted where they occur.
Fyrsta Ríma — Source
FYRSTA RÍMA.
Herjans bið eg haukarnir
hingað fljúga nái,
Fjölnis vínið færi mér
frekt sem eptir þrái.
Opt hafa snotur Íslands skáld,
út af frægðar mönnum,
boðið fólki sónar sáld
og setið í ljóða rönnum.
Vannst þeim höggva í vöku skarð,
vinskap hollan þáðu,
af því fólki inndælt varð
og elskuðu þá, sem kváðu.
Opt hef eg ljóða nornir neytt '
nýráðs sækja gjöldin,
tíðum borið hjartað heitt,
og hafnað svefni? á kvöldin.
Kvásis unda flæði flóð,
fylli kerin óma,
síðan vökvi sinnu slóð
safinn helgidóma.
Ó, þú fögur yndislig
eðla nornin ljóða!
láttu bera mundu mig
málsins akurgróða |
því mig beiddi herra hýr,
hvern ei brestur gæði,
yfir lesa æfintýr,
og yrkja nokkur kvæði.
Vín eg girnist sækja úr són.
sárum. firrtur ekka,
höfðingjans fyrir blíða bón,
Baldurs erfi drekka.
Allt hvað bezt að mælast má
og menn hafa þenkt til góða,
göfugan hlaðist ætíð á
eyðir Rínar glóða.
Fjótt skal enda formálinn
fyrir þjóðar prýði,
efnið byrjað fremur finn;
fólkið sitji og hlýði.
Kappinn bjó í Krossavík,
kosta auðinn þáði,
Þorkel nefndi þjóðin rík.
þennan lofa náði.
Geitis arfi laufann lét
laugast unda flæði,
átti systur, Oddný hét.
ógipt voru bæði.
Afhald mesta frúin frjáls
fékk af njótum skjalda,
var þó ungri varnað máls
vefju silkitjalda.
Valinn átti þorkell þræl
þorska blátt um ræfur,
þenna flutti þjóð farsæl,
þægur var og gæfur.
Freysteinn nefndur fagri var,
fríðleik yfir marga,
líka dygðir beztu bar
blíður fæðir varga.
Nú skal fleiri nefna þó
njóta fofnis grundar,,
í Krummholti Krummur bjó
kendur son Vemundar.
Vemundur var Ásbjörns arfi
Ásbjörn Krumms hins gamla
hver af Vors hinn vizkudjarfi
voða björn löt svamla,
Undir hæðir Ísafróns
ægis norna Vési
leystum nam án lukkutjóns
land á Hafranesi.
Þaðan inn til Þernuness,
þar á dýra fleti,
Strúð og aðrar eyjar þess
ætla' eg bókin geti.
Yngra Krumms eg nefni nú
nipti fofnis reita,
þórgunna nam þessi frú
þorsteinsdóttir heita.
Veturliða sonur sá
segist bur Ásbjarnar,
Beitistöðum frægur frá.
Fróða geymir kvarnar.
Ólafs niðja Langháls ljóð
lýsa fólki blíðu,
Bjarnarsonar brands með glóð,
birtir reiðar síðu.
Frú þórgunna vitur var,
vinsældum þó tapi.
andlits ekki blóma bar,
býsna forn í skapi.
Harðlynd þótti hringa ey.
heldur margkunnandi,
órík hjónin yggs á mey
eru svo búandi.
Aldurs hærri hringþöll var
heldur en brodda reynir,
engin börnin áttu þar,
um svo bókin greinir,
Sigtýs mína svölu ber
senn að Noregs ríki.
Styrkár nefnist vopna ver
vænn höfðingja líki.
Son Indriða sæmdar manns,
sveipaður öllum blóma,
faðir nefndist Hreiðar hans
hlaðinn nógum sóma.
Hreiðar átti hlýra þann, ,
hölðar Ásbjörn kalla,
Yrjarskeggja faðir fann
fremd og prýði snjalla.
Ólöfu systur Ásbjarnar
átti Klippur hersir,
Sigurð Slefu skjóma skar
sköfnungs eggja hvessir.
Áður taldra hlýri höt
hersir vænn Erlingur
Hörðalands, sem gjörla get,
grafnings studdi bringur.
Ívar nefnist Erlings bur,
elfdur jötna rómi,
sá var firða fríðastur
fyrir það kallast Ljómi.
Unna náði honum hóls
hver einn vopna ullur,
þó var eyðir orma bóls
ofmetnaðar fullur.
Aflið bar og iþróttir,
öðrum fremri haldinn;
þannig lengi laufa ver
lifði sinnis baldinn.
Þótti engin silkisól
sér fullkosta mundi,
gamla drambið innra ól
epli brjósts í lundi.
Þegar um slíka þenki opt,
þykjumst eg til reka,
þeir eru eins og þeirra lopt,
það skrifar Seneka.
Hjá Styrkári vaskur var
vitrum frænda trygðar,
opt á Gimsum þessi þar
Þrándheims innan bygðar.
Regni Draupnis, gjörla get,
gæfan yfir þá hvelfir,
Styrkárs arfi ungur hét
Einar Þambaskelfir.
Iljabreiður Indriði
og Styrkár á Gimsum
reynast bræðra synir sé,
svo er mælt af ýmsum.
Ívar Styrkárs elska nam
eðli gríðar storma,
Ljómi stýra græðis gamm
gjörði um fögnuð orma.
Í kaupferðir Englands til.
eins að veldi Dana,
þangað sótti unnar yl
álfur byrðar Grana.
Ygða Sigtýs Ívar bað
eittsinn hætti breyta,
kaldri foldu Ísa að
undir pólinn leita.
„ Sína kallar fleygir fös
fríður njóta saxa,
jórinn gekk af hlunnum hlés .
hýmdi' á tröðum laxa,
Klyfja náði fríðum fans
fákinn öldu norna;
glyggur segla gefur ans
glápti á dröfnin forna.
Byrinn kemur, blés í voð
bráður funa hlýri;
undan landi ganar gnoð
geyspaði Rán við stýri.
Elris jötuns garmur gó,
glöddust brjótar nadda,
gýmis völvu Sleipnir sló
slúngin blóðughadda.
þar til lífuð þorna gná,
þundar prýði haldin,
hóf sig upp úr hafinu blá,
hvítan skautar faldinn.
Blærinn þægt í böndum hvein,
blika dúkar gnoða,
fagrahvel á foldu skein,
fyltist gullnum roða.
Svífa höfðum siglandi.
svo sem til er vandi,
gjörðu' og trjónu gínandi.
gekk svo fley að landi.
Flana gjörði senn í sjó
svörður af kneri bragna:
fólkið vel um festar bjó:
flóða dunur þagna.
Getur sagan: Gautavík
geymist þar á láði,
sem að hirðin heillarík
hafnir taka náði.
Sigurljóma Heimdals hýr,
hirðir mundar jaka,
upp á land með ýta snýr
og svo náðir taka.
Þetta frétti þjóðin rík;
Þorkell náði ríða
Geitisson í Gautavík —
glóir á skartið fríða.
Foringjans er ferðin greið.
Fjölnis mærin stundi ;
renna jóar rétta leið
reiðskap fögrum undir.
Sterkan hitti stýrimann
stoltur bóndinn ríkur,
með sér býður honum hann
é A heim til Krossavíkur.
Líka skyldu laufa þórs
lundar glæsis bara.
þá sem vildu þilju jós
þangað með honum fara.
Kappinn þakkar bónda blítt
bezta kostinn þenna;
var nú síðan ferðum flýtt;
fákar móðir renna.
Ívar flytja auðnu vann;
er sá nógu ríkur;
fífu bör með fimta mann
fór til Krossavíkur.
Seggja gleðjast sinnu korn,
sínu una ráði;
út nam býta álma þorn
Yrsu burdar sáði.
Þorkell bezta bónda val,
blíður eittsinn náði
systur heimta sína' á tal;
síðan þetta tjáði:
„Kominn er hingað nýtur nú
nöðru geymir reita,
gjarnan vil eg þessum þú
þjónir, mærin teita.
Þetta væri þægast mér,"
þylur bóndinn djarfi,
„því að aðrir eru hér
allir í nokkru starfi."
Var algróið vizku tún,
þó vantaði málið hreina;
tekur kefli og reist á rún
rósin eðalsteina.
Þorkell skoðar þetta rit;
þundi jötuns bóna
lét sér ekki falda fit
finnast til að þjóna.
þar um tala fremur fátt
fýsir gefni banda,
boða gjörir þankinn þrátt,
þar muni illt af standa.
Reiðast náir gefni gulls,
gróins hirðir reita;
þorði hún ekki því til fulls
þessu lengur neita.
Ágæt niptin elda hlds
allmjög hlýðnast honum;
þjónaði síðan þundi fés;
það fór eptir vonum.
Þáttur stirður þrýtur einn,
þessi stundar ljóða,
bið eg virði hjarta hreinn
hirðir mundar glóða.
Source texts for Rímur II through X are preserved in the individual staging files and in the raw OCR at Tulku/Tools/rimur/vol3_source/thorsteinn_uxafoet_raw.txt. The Önnur, Þriðja, Fimmta, Sjötta, Sjöunda, and Áttunda Ríma source texts appear in their respective staging files with full stanza-by-stanza Icelandic text. The Fjórða, Níunda, and Tíunda Ríma staging files contain translation only (source text available in the raw OCR file).
Source Colophon
Source: Árni Böðvarsson, Rímur af Þorsteini Uxafæti, Önnur útgáfa (Second edition), Copenhagen: Páll Sveinsson / Louis Klein, 1858.
Original composition: 1755 (dated in the poet's own closing stanza of Ríma X: "sjötján hundruð fimmtígi og fimm").
Digital source: Internet Archive, National and University Library of Iceland (Landsbókasafn Íslands) digital collection. Identifier: RimurafTHorsteincf3ec550-b024-41ae-8a27-f64bbf40090dv0ArniReyk.
License: Public domain (published 1858, author d. 1776).
🌲