Smiled from the cloud-eaves out Allfather Odin, Waiting the battle-sport: Freya stood by him.

'Who are these heroes tall-- Lusty-limbed Longbeards?
Over the swans' bath Why cry they to me?
Bones should be crashing fast, Wolves should be full-fed, Where'er such, mad-hearted, Swing hands in the sword-play.' Sweetly laughed Freya-- 'A name thou hast given them-- Shames neither thee nor them, Well can they wear it.

Give them the victory, First have they greeted thee; Give them the victory, Yokefellow mine! Maidens and wives are these-- Wives of the Winils; Few are their heroes And far on the war-road, So over the swans' bath They cry unto thee.' Royally laughed he then; Dear was that craft to him, Odin Allfather, Shaking the clouds.

'Cunning are women all, Bold and importunate! Longbeards their name shall be, Ravens shall thank them: Where the women are heroes, What must the men be like?
Theirs is the victory; No need of me!' [Footnote: This punning legend may be seen in Paul Warnefrid's _Gesta Langobardorum_.

The metre and language are intended as imitations of those of the earlier Eddaic poems.] 'There!' said Wulf, when the song was ended; 'is that cool enough for you ?' 'Rather too cool; eh, Pelagia ?' said the Amal, laughing.
'Ay,' went on the old man, bitterly enough, 'such were your mothers; and such were your sisters; and such your wives must be, if you intend to last much longer on the face of the earth--women who care for something better than good eating, strong drinking, and soft lying.' 'All very true, Prince Wulf,' said Agilmund, 'but I don't like the saga after all.