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Great deeds of bale In the garth began, At the sad dawning The tide of Elves' sorrow When day is a-waxing And man's grief awaketh, And the sorrow of each one The early day quickeneth. Not now, not now, Nor yesterday, But long ago Has that day worn by, That ancientest time, The first time to tell of, Then, whenas Gudrun, Born of Giuki, Whetter her sons To Swanhild's avenging.
May the All-Wielder, Ever-Lord grant thee Acres a-waxing, upwards a-growing, Pregnant with corn and plenteous in strength; Hosts of grain shafts and of glittering plants! Of broad barley the blossoms, And of white wheat ears waxing, Of the whole land the harvest.... Acre, full-fed, bring forth fodder for men! Blossoming brightly, blessed become!
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