human
From me the foul reproach be far, With which a female waked the war, From me, who shunned not in the fray Through foemen fierce to hew my way (Since meet it is the eagle's brood On the fresh corpse should find their food); Then spared I not, in fighting field, With stalwart hand my sword to wield; And well may claim at Odin's shrine The praise that waits this deed of mine.
gpt
Do these verses imply the death of Thorbiorn?
human
Sharp bit the sword beneath the hood Of him whose zeal the cause pursued, And ruddy flowed the stream of death, Ere the grim brand resumed the sheath; Now on the buckler of the slain The raven sits, his draught to drain, For gore-drenched is his visage bold, That hither came his courts to hold.