"Now as the years won over three folk of the heavenly halls Grew aweary of sleepless sloth, and the day that nought befalls; And they fain would look on the earth, and their latest handiwork, And turn the fine gold over, lest a flaw therein should lurk. And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain, And Loki, the World's Begrudger, who maketh all labour vain, And Hænir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man, And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;-- --The God that was aforetime, and hereafter yet shall be When the new light yet undreamed of shall shine o'er earth and sea. "Thus about the world they wended and deemed it fair and good, And they loved their life-days dearly: so came they to the wood, And the lea without a shepherd and the dwellings of the deer, And unto a mighty water that ran from a fathomless mere. Now that flood my brother Otter had haunted many a day For its plenteous fruit of fishes; and there on the bank he lay As the Gods came wandering thither; and he slept, and in his dreams He saw the downlong river, and its fishy-peopled streams, And the swift smooth heads of its forces, and its swirling wells and deep, Where hang the poisèd fishes, and their watch in the rock-halls keep. And so, as he thought of it all, and its deeds and its wanderings, Whereby it ran to the sea down the road of scaly things, His body was changed with his thought, as yet was the wont of our kind, And he grew but an Otter indeed; and his eyes were sleeping and blind The while he devoured the prey, a golden red-flecked trout. Then passed by Odin and Hænir, nor cumbered their souls with doubt; But Loki lingered a little, and guile in his heart arose, And he saw through the shape of the Otter, and beheld a chief of his foes, A king of the free and the careless: so he called up his baleful might, And gathered his godhead together, and tore a shard outright From the rock-wall of the river, and across its green wells cast; And roaring over the waters that bolt of evil passed, And smote my brother Otter that his heart's life fled away, And bore his man's shape with it, and beast-like there he lay, Stark dead on the sun-lit blossoms: but the Evil God rejoiced, And because of the sound of his singing the wild grew many-voiced. "Then the three Gods waded the river, and no word Hænir spake, For his thoughts were set on God-home, and the day that is ever awake. But Odin laughed in his wrath, and murmured: 'Ah, how long, Till the iron shall ring on the anvil for the shackles of thy wrong!'