Now through the yeasty wave he wades; his rage
And deep vexation nothing can assuage:
He hurls his lightning o’er th’ affrighted main,
And still he hopes, and thinks the monster serpent slain.
The serpent ’midst the rushes roll’d and raved,
Severely wounded, though his life was saved:
Again his crest he raises, on the rock
Again he lies, and waits for Ragnarok.
Now in his fury Thor his hammer threw
After the serpent: deep the nib pierced through