Then thus the swarthy chief: “’Tis well;
And such a sport, methinks, is meet:
For when our arms in vigour fail,
We find our safety in our feet.
Come then! begin! trace out the course!
Yet I suspect, thou’lt soon succumb,
However great in speed thy force,
When racing with my little Thumb.”[30]
Now Tialfe’s limbs with anger shook,
He threw around a scornful glance;