Lausavísur - Einarr Skúlason

Lord of the Mœrir,
I have good tidings to tell you,
so that there is no lack of it;
your glory is great;
you are most wise.
Reddener of shields,
slender-fingered Ívarr from Fløan
has not come here;
continue to stay quietly with her.

Erlendr has fled
from the cheer of the mighty ruler;
leader of men,
you must not fault Gapamunnr for that.
Necessities must have forced
the handsome cultivator of the slope
of the chant of the chieftains of the heath;
one must recount that before the people.

Einarr received no gift
from precious Sveinn for the poem;
people praise the generosity
of the fright-shy prince.
The Danish lord values fiddles
and flutes more highly;
that is not good enough;
Rípa-Úlfr controls the ruler’s wealth.

The abbess, removed from worries,
made us me tighten the belt
around the flank,
although men may reproach
the faithful consecrated women for that.
And the marshal was not
summoned to eat with the nuns at Bakke;
the lady did not cheer
the friend of the battle-brave leader.

Jarlmaðr, the bad Christian
who plays the fiddle,
took a kid from a farmer in the east;
greed for meat came upon the churl.
The whip coiled;
the loathsome fellow lay bound
on the ship of the wagon-shaft;
the eloquent lash sang
a harsh service over the minstrel
for a long time.

The spirited woman carves
the hollow billow with the bow
toward the straits of Utsteinen;
the storm-chaser fills
the swollen sails above the sprit.
There is hardly another bay-steed on earth
that sails beneath
a more precious burden of the deck;
the broad rim gains
surf-speed for the ship-boards.

---

Einarr Skúlason (12th century) Iceland
Translation by Kari Ellen Gade