(Thus in thought discourse he holds)
The affrighted earth encircle
With thy venom-swelter’d folds.
Thou shalt cease thy hateful pastime,
Hurling seamen down to Ran:
Thor shall crush thee; from thy fury
Thor shall free the race of man.
Now the god assumes the figure
Of a youthful rustic clown:
Where the whirlwind eddies howling,