Hail to you dweller in the yew dales, Lord of the Silver Bow,
son of Sif and Þórr’s stepson, glorious Ullr who holds sway
in Ásgarðr whenever Óðinn is away. Far-strider, expert tracker,
friend of chilly Kári, Ullr, you who can cross the valley
swifter than a heron, master of Sámi sorcery who carves Runes
on the bones of your enemies and then wears them as shoes.
Ullr whose word is unbreakable as a sheet of ice over a lake.
Ullr who is invoked to give the ring-oath sanctity.
Ullr who loves to race Skaði down the snowy mountainside.
Ullr whose coat is made of the pelts of every animal you’ve hunted.
Ullr who learned seafaring and ice-fishing from the kind-hearted
Old Man of the Vanir, Njörðr who delights in the company
of your mother whose smile is warm and bright as Sunna at midday.
Ullr who accompanied mad-making Óðr on his quest to icy Jötunheimr
to steal back his beloved Freyja, and left behind many a Giant corpse
full of your death-dealing arrows in trade – God of these and so many
other wonderful things, hear my praises and know that you
are deeply revered in this household, O Ullr the Winter King.