CHAPTER LXXXII. Hacon's wars and death. Poem on Arinbjorn.

Long time did Egil dwell at Borg, and became an old man. But it is not told that he had lawsuits with any here in the land; nor is there a word of single combats, or war and slaughter of his after he settled down here in Iceland. They say that Egil never went abroad out of Iceland after the events already related. And for this the main cause was that Egil might not be in Norway, by reason of the charges which (as has been told before) the kings there deemed they had against him. He kept house in munificent style, for there was no lack of money, and his disposition led him to munificence.

King Hacon, Athelstan's foster-son, long ruled over Norway; but in the latter part of his life Eric's sons came to Norway and strove with him for the kingdom; and they had battles together, wherein Hacon ever won the victory. The last battle was fought in Hordaland, on Stord-island, at Fitjar: there king Hacon won the victory, but also got his death-wound. After that Egil's sons took the kingdom in Norway.

Lord Arinbjorn was with Harold Eric's son, and was made his counsellor, and had of him great honours. He was commander of his forces and defender of the land. A great warrior was Arinbjorn, and a victorious. He was governor of the Firth folk. Egil Skallagrimsson heard these tidings of the change of kings in Norway, and therewith how Arinbjorn had returned to his estates in Norway, and was there in great honour. Then Egil composed a poem about Arinbjorn, whereof this is the beginning:

ARINBJORN'S EPIC, OR A PART THEREOF. 'For generous prince Swift praise I find, But stint my words To stingy churl. Openly sing I Of king's true deeds, But silence keep On slander's lies. 'For fabling braggarts Full am I of scorn, But willing speak I Of worthy friends: Courts I of monarchs

A many have sought, A gallant minstrel Of guileless mood. 'Erewhile the anger Of Yngling's son I bore, prince royal Of race divine. With hood of daring O'er dark locks drawn A lord right noble I rode to seek. 'There sate in might The monarch strong, With helm of terror

High-throned and dread; A king unbending With bloody blade Within York city Wielded he power. 'That moon-like brightness Might none behold, Nor brook undaunted Great Eric's brow: As fiery serpent His flashing eyes Shot starry radiance Stern and keen. 'Yet I to this ruler

Of fishful seas My bolster-mate's ransom Made bold to bear, Of Odin's goblet O'erflowing dew Each listening ear-mouth Eagerly drank. 'Not beauteous in seeming My bardic fee To ranks of heroes In royal hall: When I my hood-knoll Wolf-gray of hue For mead of Odin

From monarch gat. 'Thankful I took it, And therewithal The pit-holes black Of my beetling brows; Yea and that mouth That for me bare The poem of praise To princely knees. 'Tooth-fence took I, And tongue likewise, Ears' sounding chambers And sheltering eaves. And better deemed I

Than brightest gold The gift then given By glorious king. 10. 'There a staunch stay Stood by my side, One man worth many Of meaner wights, Mine own true friend Whom trusty I found, High-couraged ever In counsels bold. 11. 'Arinbjorn

Alone us saved Foremost of champions From fury of king; Friend of the monarch He framed no lies Within that palace Of warlike prince. 12. 'Of the stay of our house Still spake he truth, (While much he honoured My hero-deeds) Of the son of Kveldulf, Whom fair-haired king

Slew for a slander, But honoured slain. 13. 'Wrong were it if he Who wrought me good, Gold-splender lavish, Such gifts had cast To the wasteful tract Of the wild sea-mew, To the surge rough-ridden By sea-kings' steeds. 14. 'False to my friend Were I fairly called,

An untrue steward Of Odin's cup; Of praise unworthy, Pledge-breaker vile, If I for such good Gave nought again. 15. 'Now better seeth The bard to climb With feet poetic The frowning steep, And set forth open In sight of all The laud and honour

Of high-born chief. 16. 'Now shall my voice-plane Shape into song Virtues full many Of valiant friend. Ready on tongue Twofold they lie, Yea, threefold praises Of Thorir's son. 17. 'First tell I forth What far is known, Openly bruited

In ears of all; How generous of mood Men deem this lord, Bjorn of the hearth-fire The birchwood's bane. 18. 'Folk bear witness With wond'ring praise, How to all guests Good gifts he gives: For Bjorn of the hearth-stone Is blest with store Freely and fully By Frey and Njord.

19. 'To him, high scion Of Hroald's tree, Fulness of riches Flowing hath come; And friends ride thither In thronging crowd By all wide ways 'Neath windy heaven. 20. 'Above his ears Around his brow A coronal fair, As a king, he wore.

Beloved of gods, Beloved of men, The warrior's friend, The weakling's aid. 21. 'That mark he hitteth That most men miss; Though money they gather, This many lack: For few be the bounteous And far between, Nor easily shafted Are all men's spears. 22.

'Out of the mansion Of Arinbjorn, When guested and rested In generous wise, None with hard jest, None with rude jeer, None with his axe-hand Ungifted hie. 23. 'Hater of money Is he of the Firths, A foe to the gold-drops Of Draupnir born. . . . . .

24. 'Rings he scatters, Riches he squanders, Of avarice thievish An enemy still. . . . . . 25. 'Long course of life His lot hath been, By battles broken, Bereft of peace. . . . . . 26. 'Early waked I,

Word I gathered, Toiled each morning With speech-moulding tongue. A proud pile built I Of praise long-lasting To stand unbroken In Bragi's town.'