Of the youth the bull’s head view’d,
Loud he praised his strength and courage,
Much admired his hardihood.
Launching now the sloop for fishing,
Each the oar with ardour plies,
While the keel with noise and creaking
Through the dark blue billow flies.
Then thought Aukthor: To the serpent
Could I once approach as nigh,
So that I could thrust my Miölner