Thy treason to deplore,
And that this hand be tinged with red,
And moisten’d with thy gore.”
Then Utgard’s chief to sigh began,
With quiv’ring lip and falt’ring tone:
“It would not, sure, the stronger man
Become to slay the weaker one:
Thy struggle with the cat we saw
To raise it towards the roof;
When it began to spit and claw,