“I’ll lead thee strait to Freya’s grove,
Where every female loves to dwell:
Better wilt thou in sports of love,
Than in the toils of war excel.[38]
Good will and spirit too thou hast,
But oft thy vigour fails at proof:
For thy soft-fibred hand ’twere best
To hold the harp, or weave the woof.”
Thereat to Freya’s blest abode
He march’d, with Roska by his side;