The Prose Edda · Part 3
Skáldskaparmál 59
59.1"Two are those birds which there is no need to periphrase otherwise than by calling blood and corpses their Drink and Meat: these are the raven and the eagle. All other male birds may be periphrased in metaphors of blood or corpses; and then their names are terms of the eagle or the raven. As Thjódólfr sang: The Prince with Eagle's Barley Doth feed the bloody moor-fowl: The Hörd-King bears the sickle Of Odin to the gory Swan's crop; The Sater of the Vulture Of the Eagle's Sea of corpses Stakes each shoal to the southward Which he wards, with the spear-point.
59.2These are names of the raven: Crow, Huginn, Muninn, Bold of Mood, Yearly Flier, Year-Teller, Flesh-Boder.
59.3Thus sang Einarr Tinkling-Scale: With flesh the Host-Convoker Filled the feathered ravens: The raven, when spears were screaming, With the she-wolf's prey was sated.
59.4Thus sang Einarr Skúlason: He who gluts the Gull of Hatred, Our precious lord, could govern The sword; the hurtful raven Of Huginn's corpse-load eateth.
59.5And as he sang further: But the King's heart swelleth, His spirit flushed with battle, Where heroes shrink; dark Muninn Drinks blood from out the wounds.
59.6As Víga-Glúmr sang: When stood the shielded Maidens Of the gory sword, strife-eager, On the isle; the Bold of Mood then Received the meat of wound-blood.
59.7As Skúli Thorsteinsson sang: Not the hindmost in the hundred Might Hlökk of horns have seen me, Where to the Yearly Flier I fed the wounds full grievous.
59.8The erne is called Eagle, Old One, Storm-Shearer, Inciter, Soarer, Wound-Shearer, Cock. As Einarr sang: With blood the lips he reddened Of the black steed of Járnsaxa; With steel Erne's meat was furnished: The Eagle slit the Wolf's Bait.
59.9As Ottarr sang: The Erne swills corpse-drink, The She-wolf is sated, The Eagle there feedeth, Oft the wolf his fangs reddens.
59.10As Thjódólfr sang: The Spoiler of the Lady Swiftly flew with tumult To meet the high God-Rulers, Long hence, in Old One's plumage.
59.11And as stands here: With skill will I rehearse Of the Storm-Shearer my verse.
59.12And again as Skúli sang: Early and late with sobbing I wake, where well is sated The hawk of the Cock's blood-ocean: Then the bard heareth good tidings.