Turned him to coastward, mightily brandished His lance in his hands, questioned with boldness. “Who are ye men here, mail-covered warriors Clad in your corslets, come thus a-driving A high riding ship o’er the shoals of the waters, And hither ’neath helmets have hied o’er the ocean? I have been strand-guard, standing as warden, Lest enemies ever anywise ravage Danish dominions with army of war-ships. More boldly never have warriors ventured Hither to come; of kinsmen’s approval, Word-leave of warriors, I ween 11 that ye surely Nothing have known. Never a greater one Of earls o’er the earth have I had a sight of Than is one of your number, a hero in armor; No low-ranking fellow adorned with his weapons, But launching them little, unless looks are deceiving, And striking appearance. Ere ye pass on your journey As treacherous spies to the land of the Scyldings And farther fare, I fully must know now