To renovate his strength he now
No longer needs to suck the marrow,
As whilom, when he drove the plough,
Or fell’d the wood, or wheel’d the barrow.
Cheer’d by the Asa’s blithesome mood,
The old man let Tialf’s kirtle go:
The trav’llers now, with savoury food
Refresh’d, their thoughts on sleep bestow.
But Thor, the mighty god of war,
Whose soul with thoughts heroick glows,