The Prose Edda
"Now you shall hear how the skalds have termed the art of poesy in these metaphorical phrases which have been recorded before: for example, by calling it Kvasir's Gore and Ship of the Dwarves, Dwarves' Mead, Mead of the Æsir, Giants' Father-Ransom, Liquor of Ódrerir and of Bodn and of Són, and Fullness of these, Liquor of Hnitbjörg, Booty and Find and Gift of Odin, even as has been sung in these verses which Einarr Tinkling-Scale wrought:
I pray the high-souled Warder Of earth to hear the Ocean Of the Cliff of Dwarves, my verses: Hear, Earl, the Gore of Kvasir.
And as Einarr Tinkling-Scale sang further:
The Dwarves' Crag's Song-wave rushes O'er all the dauntless shield-host Of him who speeds the fury Of the shield-wall's piercing sword-bane.
Even as Ormr Steinthórsson sang:
The body of the dame And my dead be borne Into one hall; the Drink Of Dvalinn, Franklins, hear.
And as Refr sang:
I reveal the Thought's Drink Of the Rock-Folk to Thorsteinn; The Billow of the Dwarf-Crag Plashes; I bid men hearken.
Even as Egill sang:
The Prince requires my lore, And bound his praise to pour, Odin's Mead I bore To English shore.
And as Glúmr Geirason sang:
Let the Princely Giver hearken: I hold the God-King's liquor; Let silence, then, be granted, While we sing the loss of thanes. And as Eyvindr sang:
A hearing I crave For the High One's Liquor, While I utter Gillingr's Atonement; While his kin In the Kettle-Brewing Of the Gallows-Lord To the gods I trace.
Even as Einarr Tinkling-Scale sang:
The Wave of Odin surges; Of Ódrerir's Sea a billow 'Gainst the tongue's song-glade crashes; Aye our King's works are goodly.
And as he sang further:
Now that which Bodn's Billow Bodes forth will straight be uttered: Let the War-King's host make silence In the hall, and hear the Dwarves' Ship.
And as Eilífr Gudrúnarson sang:
Grant shall ye gifts of friendship, Since grows of Són the Seedling In our tongue's fertile sedge-bank: True praise of our High Lord.
Even as Völu-Steinn sang:
Egill, hear the Heart-streams Of Odin beat in cadence 'Gainst my palate's skerry; The God's Spoil to me is given.
Thus sang Ormr Steinthórsson:
No verse of mine men need to fear, No mockery I intertwine In Odin's Spoil; my skill is sure In forging songs of praise.
Thus sang Úlfr Uggason:
I show to host-glad Áleifr The Heart-Fjord's Shoal of Odin,— My song: him do I summon To hear the Gift of Grímnir.
Poesy is called Sea, or Liquid of the Dwarves, because Kvasir's blood was liquid in Ódrerir before the mead was made, and then it was put into the kettle; wherefore it is called Odin's Kettle-Liquor, even as Eyvindr sang and as we have recorded before:
While his kin In the Kettle-Brewing Of the Gallows-Lord To the gods I trace.
Moreover, poesy is called Ship or Ale of the Dwarves: ale is líð, and lið is a word for ships; therefore it is held that it is for this reason that poesy is now called Ship of the Dwarves, even as this verse tells:
The wit of Gunnlöd's Liquor In swelling wind-like fullness, And the everlasting Dwarves' Ship I own, to send the same road.