-- Two wearisome morrows her outcast.
And it slays me, at home to be sitting,
So set is my heart on its goddess,
As a lawn with fair linen made lovely
-- I can linger no third morrow's morn."

After that, Cormac went one day to Reykir and talked with Skeggi,
who said the holmgang had been brought to scorn. Then answered
Cormac: --

(33)
"Forget it, O Frey of the helmet,
-- Lo, I frame thee a song in atonement --
That the bringer of blood, even Skofnung,
I bare thee so strangely belated.
For by stirrers of storm was I wounded;
They smote me where perches the falcon:
But the blade that I borrowed, O Skeggi,
Was borne in the clashing of edges.

(34)
I had deemed, O thou Grey of fighting,
Of the fierce song of Odin, -- my neighbour,
I had deemed that a brand meet for bloodshed
I bare to the crossways of slaughter.
Nay, -- thy glaive, it would gape not nor ravin
Against him, the rover who robbed me:
And on her, as the surge on the shingle,
My soul beats and breaks evermore."