On the gravelly beach of good ships
Grates the Blood of Ymir.
The mild deer of the masthead beareth
O'er the murky water from the westward
Her wave-pressed bows; the land I look for
Before the beak; the Whale-Home shallows.
There the Týr of Triumph
Himself inspired the terror
Of ships; the gods of breezes
That favor good men steered them.
When the fallow fell-wall's Whirlwinds
Wove o'er the waves full fiercely,
And Ægir's storm-glad daughters
Tore, of grim frost begotten.
And the Sea-Peak's Sleipnir slitteth
The stormy breast rain-driven,
The wave, with red stain running
Out of white Rán's mouth.
Grates the Blood of Ymir.
The mild deer of the masthead beareth
O'er the murky water from the westward
Her wave-pressed bows; the land I look for
Before the beak; the Whale-Home shallows.
There the Týr of Triumph
Himself inspired the terror
Of ships; the gods of breezes
That favor good men steered them.
When the fallow fell-wall's Whirlwinds
Wove o'er the waves full fiercely,
And Ægir's storm-glad daughters
Tore, of grim frost begotten.
And the Sea-Peak's Sleipnir slitteth
The stormy breast rain-driven,
The wave, with red stain running
Out of white Rán's mouth.