Eg hefir friett, að slægð púkans freistar drottins, föstumóðs, á ýmsum löstum, er, vanr hrekkjum, hugðiz að blekkja hvern mann í synd. Öll hin flærðarfullu skeytin vielakrings fjandans, oft vundin á vöfðum streingjum, standa í gegnum brjóst en sneruz á lofti.

I have heard that the sleight of the devil tempts the Lord, weary from fasting, in various faults, he who, accustomed to tricks, thinks to entice every man to sin. All the treacherous darts of the enemy, deft at deceit, often fired with twisted bow-strings pierce his own breast and turn in the air.