Which stoutest hearts appal.
“Behold our city!” Skrymur cried,
“Its towers impregnable!
Its stony bastions stretching wide!
Its palisades of steel!
Yet fear thou naught! accept this pike!
Thou needst but once the gate
With its enchanted point to strike,
And lo! ’twill open strait.
“And now farewell! I must begone,