To you I give this wondrous steed To pass the watchful fire with speed; And this, which borne by valiant wight, Self-brandished will his foemen smite. Frey, having thus given away his sword, found himself without arms when he on another occasion fought with Bele, and hence it was that he slew him with a stag’s antlers. This combat was, however, a trifling affair, for Frey could have killed him with a blow of his fist, had he felt inclined; but the time will come when the sons of Muspel will sally forth to the fight in Ragnarok, and then indeed will Frey truly regret having parted with his falchion. Having obtained the horse and sword, Skirner set out on his journey, and thus he addressed his horse: Dark night is spread; ’t is time, I trow, To climb the mountains hoar with snow; Both shall return, or both remain In durance, by the giant ta’en. Skirner rode into Jotunheim, to the court of Gymer. Furious dogs were tied there before the gate of the wooden inclosure which surrounded Gerd’s bower. He rode toward a shepherd, who was sitting on a mound, and thus addressed him: Shepherd, you, that sit on the mound, And turn your watchful eyes around, How may I lull these bloodhounds? say; How speak unharmed with Gymer’s may? THE SHEPHERD: Whence and what are you? doomed to die? Or, dead, revisit you the sky? For ride by night or ride by day, You ne’er shall come to Gymer’s may. SKIRNER: I grieve not, I, a better part Fits him who boasts a ready heart: At hour of birth our lives were shaped; The doom of fate can ne’er be ’scaped. But Gerd inside hears the stranger, and thus speaks to her maid-servant: What sounds unknown my ears invade, Frightening this mansion’s peaceful shade; The earth’s foundation rocks withal, And trembling shakes all Gymer’s hall. THE MAID-SERVANT: Dismounted stands warrior sheen; His courser crops the herbage green. GERD: Haste! bid him to my bower with speed, To quaff unmixed the pleasant mead; And good betide us; for I fear My brother’s murderer is near. Skirner having entered, Gerd thus addresses him: What are you, elf or asas’ son? Or from the wiser vanas sprung? Alone to visit our abode, O’er bickering flames, why have you rode? SKIRNER: