That here worm-land's haunter came;
Well-born goddess of red gold,
Thus let gamesome rhyme be told.
'Giver forth of Odin's mead
Of thy black mare have I need;
For to Gilsbank will I ride,
Meed of my rash words to bide.'"

The woman learned this song, and thereafter Grettir rode on his way;
Svein came there a little after, and she was not yet gone in, and as
he came he sang this--

"What foreteller of spear-shower
E'en within this nigh-passed hour,
Swift through the rough weather rode
Past the gate of this abode?
He, the hound-eyed reckless one,
By all good deeds left alone,
Surely long upon this day
From my hands will flee away."

Then she told him what she had been bidden to; he thought over the
ditty, and said, "It is not unlike that he will be no man to play
with; natheless, I will find him out."

Now he rode along the peopled lands, and each man ever saw the other's
riding; and the weather was both squally and wet.

Grettir came to Gilsbank that day, and when Grim Thorhallson knew
thereof, he welcomed him with great joy, and bade him abide with him.