LOKE (_sung_).—“My labour is past, mine errand I bring; Thrym has thine hammer, the giant king; With it shall no one homeward tread, Till he bear him Freyia to share his bed.” Their way to lovely Freyia they took, And this the first word that he spoke; “Now Freyia, busk as a blooming bride, Together, we must to Jotunheim ride.” Wroth waxed Freyia with ireful look; All Asgard’s hall with wonder shook; Her great bright necklace started wide. “Well may ye call me a wanton bride, If I with ye to Jotunheim ride.” The Asi did all to council crowd, The Asiniæ all talk’d fast and loud: This they debated, and this they sought, How the hammer of Thor should home be brought. Up then and spoke Heimdallar free, Like the Vani, wise was he; “Now busk[88] we Thor, as a bride so fair; Let him that great bright necklace wear; Round him let ring the spousal keys; And a maiden kirtle[89] hang to his knees, And on his bosom jewels rare; And high and quaintly braid his hair.” Wroth waxed Thor with godlike pride; “Well may the Asi me deride, If I let me dight[90], as a blooming bride.” Then up spoke Loke, Laufeyia’s son; “Now hush thee, Thor; this must be done: The giants will strait in Asgard reign, If thou thine hammer dost not regain.” Then busk’d they Thor, as a bride so fair, And the great bright necklace gave him to wear; Round him let ring the spousal keys, And a maiden kirtle hang to his knees, And on his bosom jewels rare; And high and quaintly braided his hair. Up then arose the crafty Loke, Laufeyia’s son, and thus he spoke; “A servant I thy steps will tend, Together we must to Jotunheim wend.” Now home the goats together hie; Yoked to the axle they swiftly fly. The mountains shook, the earth burn’d red, As Odin’s sons to Jotunheim sped. Then Thrym the king of the Thursi said; “Giants, stand up; let the seats be spread: Bring Freyia Niorder’s daughter down To share my bed from Noatun. With horns all gilt each coal-black beast Is led to deck the giant’s feast; Large wealth and jewels have I stored; I lack but Freyia to grace my board.” Betimes at evening they approach’d, And the mantling ale the giants broach’d. The spouse of Sifia ate alone Eight salmons, and an ox full-grown. And all the cates, on which women feed; And drank three firkins of sparkling mead. Then Thrym the king of the Thursi said; “Where have ye beheld such a hungry maid? Ne’er saw I a bride so keenly feed, Nor drink so deep of the sparkling mead.” Then forward leant the crafty Loke,