Skáldskaparmál

To the Bride of Odin
With hard stones were battered.

The swirling weapons' Urger
Bade. Gjúki's race be smitten
Sore, who from life were eager
To ravish Svanhildr's lover;
And all pay Jónakr's offspring
With the fair-piercing weapon,
The render of blue birnies,-
With bitter thrusts and edges.

I see the heroes' slaughter
On the fair shield-rim's surface;
Ragnarr gave me the Ship-Moon
With many tales marked on it.]

Now are we come
To the king's house,
The two fore-knowing,
Fenja and Menja:
These are with Fródi
Son of Fridleifr,
The Mighty Maidens,
As maid-thralls held.

They to the flour-mill
Were led, those maidens,
And bidden tirelessly
To turn the gray mill-stone:
He promised to neither
Peace nor surcease
Till he had heard
The handmaids' singing.

They chanted the song
Of the ceaseless mill-stone:
'Lay we the bins right,
Lift we the stones!'
He urged the maidens
To grind on ever.

They sung and slung
The whirling stone
Till the men of Fródi
For the most part slept;
Then spake Menja,
To the mill coming:

'Wealth grind we for Fróði,
We grind it in plenty,

Fullness of fee
At the mill of fortune:
Let him sit on riches
And sleep on down;
Let him wake in weal:
Then well 't is ground.

'Here may no one
Harm another,
Contrive evil,
Nor cast wiles for slaying,
Nor slaughter any
With sword well sharpened,
Though his brother's slayer
In bonds he find.'

But he spake no word
Save only this:
'Sleep ye no longer
Than the hall-cuckoo's silence,
Nor longer than so,
While one song is sung.'

'Thou wast not, Fródi,
Full in wisdom,
Thou friend of men,
When thou boughtest the maidens:
Didst choose for strength
And outward seeming;
But of their kindred
Didst not inquire.