Odin, himself, advanced into Sweden, and forced Gylfe to cede to him the eastern part of that kingdom. He established his seat at Sigtuna, where he caused temples to be erected and sacrifices to be offered. Thence his authority and his worship were diffused throughout Germany and Scandinavia.[30] The qualities of this extraordinary man are the favourite theme of the Swedish and Norwegian chroniclers. He was the father, says Snorro, of all the arts in northern Europe. He could change his looks at pleasure. To his friends he was exceedingly beautiful, and their hilarity he was always desirous to promote. To his enemies, especially in battle, he seemed a demon: the countenance which before was so exquisitely attractive, now inspired terror and death. Such was his eloquence that he captivated all who heard him, and he always spoke in verse: hence he was called the artificer of song; and from him northern poetry had its origin. In imitation of him all the magicians of Scandinavia couched their incantations in metrical numbers: indeed, he had so warranted the example, that the most potent runes would, in popular opinion, have lost their efficiency had they been in prose. By these verses Odin could, in the hour of battle, strike his enemies with blindness, with deafness, or with panic fear, and render their sharpest weapons blunt as twigs. By the same means he could render his own men as furious wolves, strong as bears or bulls, and invulnerable to steel or fire. Often, while his body lay supine, he would assume another form,—that of fish, serpent, or wild beast,—and in a moment hasten to the remotest parts. At his mere command, fire ceased to burn, the wind to blow, and the sea to rage; and the elements moved in what direction he pleased. He had a wonderful ship, called Skidbladner, which he could fold up like a handkerchief, yet which carried him through the most dangerous seas.—According to the latter Edda, this ship was built by the dwarfs,—probably the Lapps, so called to distinguish them from the Jutish giants,—who were rather the allies than the enemies of the gods. Small as this vessel was,—since it could be easily carried in a pocket or in the palm of the hand,—yet, when expanded, “all the gods, completely armed, could sit in it.” And it had another wonderful property: the moment the sails were unfurled, a favourable wind was sure to rise, and bear the passengers wherever they wished to go. Then there was the embalmed head of Mimir, which acquainted him with whatever he wished to know. And he had two ravens which he endowed with the gift of speech, and which, continually flying over the earth, brought him intelligence of everything that happened. Sometimes he summoned the dead from their graves: hence he was called the Lord of the Tombs. He was profoundly versed in the art called _seid_,—the art which foretold events, which induced or removed death, sickness, pain, and all the ills of mankind. He knew all the treasures