Hymer, who in the strife no part had took, But like a trembling aspen shook, Rouseth him to avert the stroke. In the last night, the vala hath decreed Thor, in Odin’s utmost need, To the worm shall bow the head. Thus, in sunk voice, the craven giant spoke, Whilst from his belt a knife he took, Forged by dwarfs aneath the rock. Upon the magic belt straight ’gan to file; Thor in bitter scorn to smile; Mjolner swang in air the while. In the worm’s front full two-score leagues it fell; From Gimle to the realms of hell Echoed Jormungander’s yell. The ocean yawned; Thor’s lightnings rent the sky; Through the storm, the great sun’s eye Looked out on the fight from high. Bifrost i’ th’ east shone forth in brightest green; On its top, in snow-white sheen, Heimdal at his post was seen. On the charmed belt the dagger hath no power; The star of Jotunheim ’gan to lour; But now, in Asgard’s evil hour, When all his efforts foiled tall Hymer saw, Wading to the serpent’s maw, On the kedge he ’gan to saw. The Sun, dismayed, hastened in clouds to hide, Heimdal turned his head aside; Thor was humbled in his pride. The knife prevails, far down beneath the main, The serpent, spent with toil and pain, To the bottom sank again. The giant fled, his head ’mid rocks to save, Fearfully the god did rave, With his lightnings tore the wave. To madness stung, to think his conquest vain, His ire no longer could contain, Dared the worm to rise again. His radiant form to its full height he drew, And Mjolner through the billows blue Swifter than the fire-bolt flew. Hoped, yet, the worm had fallen beneath the stroke; But the wily child of Loke Waits her turn at Ragnarok. His hammer lost, back wends the giant-bane, Wasted his strength, his prowess vain; And Mjolner must with Ran remain. THE DWARFS. Loke sat and thought, till his dark eyes gleam With joy at the deed he’d done; When Sif looked into the crystal stream, Her courage was well-nigh gone For never again her soft amber hair Shall she braid with her hands of snow; From the hateful image she turned in despair, And hot tears began to flow. In a cavern’s mouth, like a crafty fox, Loke sat ’neath the tall pine’s shade, When sudden a thundering was heard in the rocks, And fearfully trembled the glade. Then he knew that the noise good boded him naught, He knew that ’t was Thor who was coming; He changed himself straight to a salmon-trout, And leaped in a fright in the Glommen.[6]