A creaking bow, A burning flame, A gaping wolf, A croaking crow, A squealing swine, A rootless tree, A waxing wave, A boiling cauldron, A flying arrow, A falling billow, A one night old ice, A ring-coiled snake, The bed-talk of a bride, Or a broken sword, The play of a bear, Or a king’s child A sick calf, A wilful thrall, The kind words of a volva, The new-felled slain,[316] An early sown field Shall no man trust, Nor his son too early; The weather rules the field, And wit guides the son; Each of them is uncertain. Let no man be so trustful That he trust His brother’s slayer, Though he meet him on the highway, A half-burnt house, A very swift horse, A horse is useless If a leg be broken. Thus is the love of women Whose hearts are false As riding on slippery ice, With an unshod, Wild, two year old, Badly broken horse, Or like cruising Rudderless in a strong gale, Or like the lame reindeer On thawing mountain sides. Now I speak openly For I know both; Fickle is the mind of men to women; We speak most fair When we think most false; That beguiles wise minds. Finely must talk And offer gifts He who would win woman’s love, Praise the shape Of the bright (fair) maiden; He wins who woos. In matters of love Should a man never Blame another; The bewitching hues[317] That do not move the dull Often move the wise. A man must not Blame another For what is many men’s weakness; For mighty love Changes the son of men From wise into fools. The mind alone knows What is near the heart; It alone sees what is near the heart; It alone sees what is in the breast; No sickness is worse For a wise man Than to enjoy nothing. I tried that when I sat in the rushes And waited for my love; The gentle maiden Was like my own flesh and heart; Yet she was not mine. I found the sun-bright Maiden of Billing[318] Asleep on her bed; The happiness of a jarl I thought worth nothing, Unless living with that maiden.