and the thralls both carle and
quean
Were the wilful, the weak, and the witless, and the old and the
ill-beseen;
Spoilt was the harness and house-gear, and the raiment rags of cloth.

Now Sinfiotli's men beheld it and grew exceeding wroth,
But Sinfiotli laughed and answered: "The day's work hath been meet:
Thou hast done well, war-brother, to sift the chaff from the wheat
Nought have kings' sons to meddle with the refuse of the earth,
Nor shall warriors burden their long-ships with things of nothing
worth."

Then he cried across the sea-strand in a voice exceeding great:
"Depart, ye thralls of the battle; ye have nought to do to wait!
Old, young, and good, and evil, depart and share the spoil,
That burden of the battle, that spring and seed of toil.
--But thou king of the greedy heart, thou king of the thievish grip,
What now wilt thou bear to the sea-strand and set within my ship
To buy thy life from the slaying? Unmeet for kings to hear
Of a king the breaker of troth, of a king the stealer of gear."

Then mad-wroth waxed King Gudrod, and he cried: "Stand up, my men!
And slay this wood-abider lest he slay his brothers again!"

But no sword leapt from its sheath, and his men shrank back in dread;
Then Sinfiotli's brow grew smoother, and at last he spake and said:
"Indeed thou art very brother of my father Sigmund's wife:
Wilt thou do so much for thine honour, wilt thou do so much for thy
life,
As to bide my sword on the island in the pale of the hazel wands?
For I know thee no battle-blencher, but a valiant man of thine hands."

Now nought King Gudrod gainsayeth, and men dight the hazelled field,
And there on the morrow morning they clash the sword and shield,
And the fallow blades are leaping: short is the tale to tell,
For with the third stroke stricken to field King Gudrod fell.
So there in the holm they lay him; and plenteous store of gold
Sinfiotli lays beside him amid that hall of mould;
"For he gripped," saith the son of Sigmund, "and gathered for such
a day."

Then Sinfiotli and his fellows o'er the sea-flood sail away,
And come to the land of the Volsungs: but Borghild heareth the tale,
And into the hall she cometh with eager face and pale
As the kings were feasting together, and glad was Sigmund grown
Of the words of Sinfiotli's batt