Branches as high as vigilant eye could see, Magic runes, once scratched into this tree. An old man sat down at this mighty oak, Every morning, day by day... And he closed his eyes While a gasp blew through its leaves... And he began to speak... Grímnismál, verse 4, 1-6; verse 5, 1-6: "Land er heilagt, er ek liggja sé ásum ok álfum nær en í Þrúðheimi skal Þór vera, unz of rjúfask regin." "Ýdalir heita þar er Ullur hefir sér of görva sali Álfheim Frey gáfu í árdaga tívar at tannféi." Roots as deep as the very depths of heart, Source for those who know what's still to come... Man of wisdom and knowledge great, With hair as white as snow... The young amongst them in a circle sat And listened to his voice. ...While he began to speak... [repeat Grímnismál verses]