(12)
“Black-puddings boiled, quoth Ogmund's son,
Are a dainty,--fair befall them!”
And in the evening when Cormac made ready to go home he saw Narfi, and
bethought him of those churlish words. “I think, Narfi,” said he, “I am
more like to knock thee down, than thou to rule my coming and going.”
And with that struck him an axe-hammer-blow, saying:--
(13)
“Why foul with thy clowning and folly,
The food that is dressed for thy betters?
Thou blundering archer, what ails thee
To be aiming thy insults at me?”