The two poems told in the myth today were translated from the Sigrdrífumál and published in “The Story of the Volsungs", translated by William Morris and Eirikr Magnusson (Walter Scott Press, London, 1888).     First, the poem that Brynhild tells Sigurd at their first meeting:   Beer bring I to thee, Fair fruit of the byrnies' clash, Mixed is it mightily, Mingled with fame, Brimming with bright lays And pitiful runes, Wise words, sweet words, Speech of great game.   Runes of war know thou, If great thou wilt be! Cut them on hilt of hardened sword, Some on the brand's back, Some on its shining side, Twice name Tyr therein.   Sea-runes good at need, Learnt for ship's saving, For the good health of the swimming horse; On the stern cut them, Cut them on the rudder-blade And set flame to shaven oar: Howso big be the sea-hills, Howso blue beneath, Hail from the main then comest thou home.   Word-runes learn well If thou wilt that no man Pay back grief for the grief thou gavest; Wind thou these, Weave thou these, Cast thou these all about thee, At the Thing, Where folk throng, Unto the full doom faring.   Of ale-runes know the wisdom If thou wilt that another's wife Should not bewray thine heart that trusteth: Cut them on the mead-horn, On the back of each hand, And nick an N upon thy nail. Ale have thou heed To sign from all harm Leek lay thou in the liquor, Then I know for sure Never cometh to thee, Mead with hurtful matters mingled.   Help-runes shalt thou gather If skill thou wouldst gain To loosen child from low-laid mother; Cut be they in hands hollow, Wrapped the joints round about; Call for the Good-folks' gainsome helping.   Learn the bough-runes wisdom If leech-lore thou lovest; And wilt wot about wounds' searching On the bark be they scored; On the buds of trees Whose boughs look eastward ever.   Thought-runes shalt thou deal with If thou wilt be of all men Fairest-souled wight, and wisest, These areded These first cut These first took to heart high Hropt.   On the shield were they scored That stands before the shining God, On Early-waking's ear, On All-knowing's hoof, On the wheel which runneth Under Rognir's chariot; On Sleipnir's jaw-teeth, On the sleigh's traces.   On the rough bear's paws, And on Bragi's tongue, On the wolf's claws, And on eagle's bill, On bloody wings, And bridge's end; On loosing palms, And pity's path   On glass, and on gold, And on goodly silver, In wine and in wort, And the seat of the witch-wife; On Gungnir's point, And Grani's bosom; On the Norn's nail, And the neb of the night-owl.   All these so cut, Were shaven and sheared, And mingled in with holy mead, And sent upon wide ways enow; Some abide with the Elves, Some abide with the Aesir, Or with the wise Vanir, Some still hold the sons of mankind.   These be the book-runes, And the runes of good help, And all the ale-runes, And the runes of much might; To whomso they may avail, Unbewildered unspoilt; They are wholesome to have: Thrive thou with these then. When thou hast learnt their lore, Till the Gods end thy life-days.   Now shalt thou choose thee E'en as choice is bidden, Sharp steel's root and stem, Choose song or silence; See to each in thy heart, All hurt has been heeded.   Then Sigurd the poem written about Sigurd as Gunnar riding through the flames at second time.   The flame flared at its maddest, Earth's fields fell a-quaking As the red flame aloft Licked the lowest of heaven. Few had been fain, Of the rulers of folk, To ride through that flame, Or athwart it to tread. Then Sigurd smote Grani with sword, And the flame was slaked Before the king; Low lay the flames Before the fain of fame; Bright gleamed the array That Regin erst owned.