Greater God Is none than Thor, whom, witless, thus ye flout. That giant knew his greatness, and, at morn, While vexed at failure through the gates he passed, Addressed him reverent: 'Lift thy head, great Thor! Disguised thou cam'st; not less we knew thee well: Brave battle fought'st thou, seeming still to fail: Thy foes were phantoms! Phantasies I wove To snare thine eyes because I feared thy hand, And pledged thy strength to tasks impossible. That horn thou could'st not empty was the sea! At that third draught such ebb-tide stripp'd the shore As left whole navies stranded! What to thee Wild-cat appeared was Midgard's endless snake Whose infinite circle clasps the ocean round: Then when her foot thou liftedst, tremour went From iron vale to vale of Joetunheim: Hadst thou but higher raised it one short span, The sea had drowned the land! That toothless crone Was Age, that drags the loftiest head to earth: She bent thy knee alone. Come here no more! On equal ground thou fight'st us in the light: In this, our native land, the stronger we, And mock thee by Illusions!' After pause, With haughty eye cast round, the minstrel spake: 'Now hear ye mysteries of the antique song, Though few shall guess their import!' Then he sang Legends primeval of that Northern race, And dread beginnings of the heavens and earth, When, save the shapeless chaos, nothing was: Of Ymer first, by some named Oergelmir, The giant sire of all the giant brood:-- Him for his sins the sons of Boer destroyed; Then fashioned of his blood the seas and streams, And of his bones the mountains; of his teeth The cliffs firm set against the aggressive waves; Last, of his skull the vast, o'er-hanging heaven; And of his brain the clouds. 'Sing on,' they cried: Next sang he of that mystic shape, earth-born, The wondrous cow, Auhumla. Herb that hour Was none, nor forest growth; yet on and on She wandered by the vapour-belted seas, And, wandering, from the stones and icebergs cold That creaked forlorn against the grey sea-crags, She licked salt spray, and hoary frost, and lived; And ever where she licked sprang up, full-armed, Men fair and strong! Once more they cried, 'Sing on!' Last sang the minstrel of the Night and Day: Car-borne they sweep successive through the heaven: First rides the dusky maid by men called Night; Sleep-bringing, pain-assuaging, kind to man; With dream-like speed cleaving the starry sphere: Hrimfaxi is her horse: his round complete Foam from his silver bit bespangles earth, And mortals call it 'Morn.' Day follows fast, Her brother white: Skinfaxi is his horse: When forth he flings the splendours from his mane Both Gods and men rejoice.