Rune XXIII-b

"Equal honors must be given To thy husband's friends and kindred; Lower must thy head be bended, Than within thy mother's dwelling, Than within thy father's guest-room, When thou didst thy kindred honor. Ever strive to give good counsel, Wear a countenance of sunshine, Bear a head upon thy shoulders Filled with wise and ancient sayings; Open bright thine eyes at morning To behold the silver sunrise, Sharpen well thine ears at evening, Thus to hear the rooster crowing; When he makes his second calling, Straightway thou must rise from slumber, Let the aged sleep in quiet; Should the rooster fail to call thee, Let the moonbeams touch thine eyelids, Let the Great Bear be thy keeper Often go thou and consult them, Call upon the Moon for counsel, Ask the Bear for ancient wisdom, From the stars divine thy future; When the Great Bear faces southward, When his tail is pointing northward, This is time to break with slumber, Seek for fire within the ashes, Place a spark upon the tinder, Blow the fire through all the fuel. If no spark is in the ashes, Then go wake thy hero-husband, Speak these words to him on waking: 'Give me fire, O my beloved, Give a single spark, my husband, Strike a little fire from flintstone, Let it fall upon my tinder.' "From the spark, O Bride of Beauty, Light thy fires, and heat thine ovens, In the holder, place the torch-light, Find thy pathway to the stables, There to fill the empty mangers; If thy husband's cows be lowing, If thy brother's steeds be neighing, Then the cows await thy coming, And the steeds for thee are calling, Hasten, stooping through the hurdles, Hasten through the yards and stables, Feed thy husband's cows with pleasure, Feed with care the gentle lambkins, Give the cows the best of clover, Hay, and barley, to the horses, Feed the calves of lowing mothers, Feed the fowl that fly to meet thee. "Never rest upon the haymow, Never sleep within the hurdles, When the kine are fed and tended, When the flocks have all been watered; Hasten thence, my pretty matron, Like the snow-flakes to thy dwelling, There a crying babe awaits thee, Weeping in his couch neglected, Cannot speak and tell his troubles, Speechless babe, and weeping infant, Cannot say that he is hungry, Whether pain or cold distresses, Greets with joy his mother's footsteps. Afterward repair in silence To thy husband's rooms and presence, Early visit thou his chambers, In thy hand a golden pitcher, On thine arm a broom of birch-wood, In thy teeth a lighted taper, And thyself the fourth in order. Sweep thou then thy hero's dwelling, Dust his benches and his tables, Wash the flooring well with water. "If the baby of thy sister Play alone within his corner, Show the little child attention, Bathe his eyes and smoothe his ringlets, Give the infant needed comforts; Shouldst thou have no bread of barley, In his hand adjust some trinket. "Lastly, when the week has ended, Give thy house a thorough cleansing, Benches, tables, walls, and ceilings; What of dust is on the windows, Sweep away with broom of birch-twigs, All thy rooms must first be sprinkled, at the dust may not be scattered, May not fill the halls and chambers. Sweep the dust from every crevice, Leave thou not a single atom; Also sweep the chimney-corners, Do not then forget the rafters, Lest thy home should seem untidy, Lest thy dwelling seem neglected.