The Speech Of The High One

 I know I hung on that windswept tree,
 Swung there for nine long nights,
 Wounded by my own blade,
 Bloodied for Odinn,
 Myself and offering to myself:
 Bound to the tree
 That no man knows
 Wither the roots of it run.
                        
 None gave me bread,
 None gave me drink.
 Down to the deepest depths I peered
 Until I spied the Runes.
 With a roaring cry I seized them up,
 Then dizzy and fainting, I fell.
               
 Well-being I won
 And wisdom too.
 I grew and took joy in my growth:
 From a word to a word
 I was led to a word, From a deed to another deed.

                     The Poetic Edda (ca A.D. 1200)