What bites at my byrnie? Who breaks off my sleep?
Who frees me from grip of ghostly fetters?
Sigmund's son with Sigurd's sword,
Late come from the raven's carrion field.

Long have I slept. Long did I sleep.
Long are the miseries of men.
By Odin's will, unable to wake,
Held fast in fetters of sleep.

Hail Day! Hail the sons of Day!
Hail Night, and daughter of Night!
Gaze on us with gracious eyes;
Award us victory, we who wait.

Hail the Aesir! Hail Asynjur!
Hail the all-giving earth! And grant
Wisdom and fair speech to us, far-famed,
And hands of leechcraft while we live.

~Unknown