"Well, and a fine-looking lad he is," said she.

Now she was combing her hair, and Cormac asked her, "Wilt thou
give me leave?"

She reached out her comb for him to handle it. She had the
finest hair of any woman. Said the maid, "Ye would give a deal
for a wife with hair like Steingerd's, or such eyes!"

He answered: --

(7)
"One eye of the far of the ale-horn
Looking out of a form so bewitching,
Would a bridegroom count money to buy it
He must bring for it ransom three hundred.
The curls that she combs of a morning,
White-clothed in fair linen and spotless,
They enhance the bright hoard of her value, --
Five hundred might barely redeem them!"

Said the maid, "It's give and take with the two of ye! But
thou'lt put a big price upon the whole of her!" He answered: --

(8)
"The tree of my treasure and longing,
It would take this whole Iceland to win her:
She is dearer than far-away Denmark,
And the doughty domain of the Hun-folk.
With the gold she is combing, I count her