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138.Now are Hor's words spoken in the hall,
Kind for the kindred of men,
Cursed for the kindred of giants:
Hail to the speaker, and to him who learns!
Profit be his who has them!
Hail to them who hearken!
139.I ween that I hung on the windy tree,
Hung there for nights full nine;
With the spear I was wounded, and offered I was
To Othin, myself to myself,
On the tree that none may ever know
What root beneath it runs.
