Now Thor to them a signal made
To succour him with sword and lance.
Then turning round in wrath extreme,
To Utgard-Lok he fiercely cries:
“Let me this instant quit thy realm,
Where frantic witchcraft gains the prize!
“I cannot bear such magic spells,
Such visions strange: Odin alone,
My sire, who in Valhalla dwells,
Can from such mischief shield his son: