87. Then up and answered Odd the Young: "Once more we are fighting here. You shall go against Arngrim's Sons, And I against Angantyr." 88. "We two, Angantyr and I, Shall fight with mighty strife; I would not that lady Ingibjˆrg hear That I sought to flee for my life. 89. "We two, Angantyr and I, Shall meet in a mighty gripe, And long will lady Ingibjˆrg wait Ere she hear that I shrank for my life." 90. Out then spake the Young Odd, And pondered heavily; "O gin thou go'est against Angantyr, Thou choosest thy death truly." 91. All the sons of Arngrim Rode up the river shore A-tightening of their shield-straps Till they could tighten them no more. 92. All the sons of Arngrim Rode through the plain so green; A league and a league you could hear on the stones The clang of their spears so keen. 93. All the sons of Arngrim, Angry were they in mood. Little recked they for weapons, But tore up clubs of stout oakwood. 94. All the sons of Arngrim Rode up the river strand. It is the young Odd will lose his life, For Hjalmar is not at hand. 95. Odd rode against the Sons of Arngrim, His noble weapons proved he so, And he slew all the eleven brothers Yet never dealt he a second blow. 96. Angantyr and the bold Hjalmar On the island combated. All their followers who manned the ship Are lying now stone dead. 97. Hjalmar then struck Angantyr, So lay he at his feet. "O Hjalmar, give me now a drink, For it comforts the meanest wight." 98. "A drink from out my drinking horn I give thee willingly; But hearken, Angantyr my brother, Today have I surely conquered thee." 99. O he held the horn before his lips, --He the noble warrior,-- And O it was the heathen dog Who stabbed him under the helmet there. 100. It was the warrior Hjalmar, He drew his sword amain; He has cleft his brother Angantyr And cut him in pieces twain. 101. Odd came home at eventide A-riding on the strand, And saw where Hjalmar had sat him there, Marred by the poisoned brand. 102. Odd came home at eventide, Where Hjalmar leant his back on a stone; "O why art thou so wondrous pale, And what has brought thee to make such moan?" 103. "My corslet he has piercÈd, He has scathed my skin so white; The poison smeared upon the blade My heart will surely smite." 104. "Thou didst put thy faith in thy corslet, All made of shining steel; But here stand I in my shirt only, And yet no wound I feel.