Why seek the gifts to reward that guidance, which thou shouldst have offered for naught?
Surely I will walk afoot, and will not basely give up my sword and buy the help of a stranger; nature has given me the right of passage, and hath bidden me trust in my own feet.

Why mock and jeer with insolent speech at him whom thou shouldst have offered to guide upon his way?
Why give to dishonour my deeds of old, which deserve the memorial of fame?
Why requite my service with reproach?
Why pursue with jeers the old man mighty in battle, and put to shame my unsurpassed honours and illustrious deeds, belittling my glories and girding at my prowess?
For what valour of thine dost thou demand my sword, which thy strength does not deserve?
It befits not the right hand or the unwarlike side of a herdsman, who is wont to make his peasant-music on the pipe, to see to the flock, to keep the herds in the fields.

Surely among the henchmen, close to the greasy pot, thou dippest thy crust in the bubbles of the foaming pan, drenching a meagre slice in the rich, oily fat, and stealthily, with thirsty finger, licking the warm juice; more skilled to spread thy accustomed cloak on the ashes, to sleep on the hearth, and slumber all day long, and go busily about the work of the reeking kitchen, than to make the brave blood flow with thy shafts in war.

Men think thee a hater of the light and a lover of a filthy hole, a wretched slave of thy belly, like a whelp who licks the coarse grain, husk and all.
"By heaven, thou didst not try to rob me of my sword when thrice at great peril I fought (for ?) the son of Ole.

For truly, in that array, my hand either broke the sword or shattered the obstacle, so heavy was the blow of the smiter.