Day I. To Þórr Eindriði

I call upon you Thor, the one who rides alone
in your cart drawn by Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr
through lands near and far, visiting the high
and the low alike, testing the hospitality
and other noble virtues of the sons of Askr
and daughters of Embla. You are called
friend of the common man, for oft have you found
that those who have the least are quickest
to give the most. Likewise those who know well
how brief, brutish and uncertain life can be
make the best use of what has been given them;
they know too that simple pleasures are the fillingest,
and being scarce must be enjoyed to the utmost
when and where they are found. And oh, son of Óðinn,
do you graciously reward the generosity of the folk,
sending a sudden rainstorm so their crops will prosper
rather than succumb to drought, and their goats
produce plentiful bleating young as their nets strain
to contain so many fish and somehow there are
more cheeses in their larder than their pails collected milk,
all because they set out for you humble traveler’s stew,
crusty bread and a flagon of homebrew, the best
that they had. Thor, may every house receive you so,
and each treat you better than the one before.