That alone is conscious of our affections.
No disease is worse
To a sensible man
Than not to be content with himself.
That I experienced
When in the reeds I sat
Awaiting my delight.
Body and soul to me
Was that discreet maiden:
Nevertheless I possess her not.
Billing's lass[1]
On her couch I found,
Sun-bright, sleeping.
A prince's joy
To me seemed naught,
If not with that form to live.
Yet nearer night, she said,
Must thou, Odin, come,
If thou wilt talk the maiden over;
All will be disastrous
Unless we alone
Are privy to such misdeed.
I returned,
Thinking to love
At her wise desire;
I thought
I should obtain
Her whole heart and love.
When next I came,
The bold warriors were
All awake,
With lights burning,
And bearing torches:
Thus was the way to pleasure closed.
- ↑ Rind was daughter of Billing.
