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“Fare happy, O Lords,
Whereso your hearts lead you!”

Then the bold knights
Let their bit-griping steeds
Wend swift o’er the fells,
Tread the murk-wood unknown,
All the Hunwood was shaking
As the hardy ones fared there;
O’er the green meads they urged
Their steeds shy of the goad.

Then Atli’s land saw they;
Great towers and strong,
And the bold men of Bikki,
Aloft on the burg:
The Southland folks’ hall
Set with benches about,
Dight with bucklers well bounden,
And bright white shining shields.

There drank Atli,
The awful Hun king,
Wine in his fair hall;
Without were the warders,
Gunnar’s folk to have heed of,
Lest they had fared thither
With the whistling spear
War to wake ’gainst the king.

But first came their sister
As they came to the hall,