At every blow thou thoughtst to give.
I must confess thy hammer’s shock
Could lay the mightiest low;
But thou didst split the granite rock,
Instead of Skrymur’s brow.
“I thought to lead thee ’stray amidst
The mountain’s windings intricate;
By my contrivance ’twas thou didst
Arrive at pale-blue Hela’s gate.
I thought to frighten thee away