Come forth thyself, O swarthy king!
And try with me a wrestling bout!”
With soften’d voice the chief rejoin’d,
For now fear made him lower his crest:
“Nay! why so hasty? bear in mind,
That all things here are done in jest!
No malice here disturbs our sport;
But since a wrestling match you chuse,
I’ve an old woman in my court,
To cope with Thor she’ll not refuse.”