“And for Sif a new head of hair I’ll bring
Of gold, before dawn of day;
She then will rival the youthful spring
All deck’d in her flow’rets gay.”
“Thou swear’st by my hammer, but that I’ve lost,”
Indignant the god replies;
“Which well thou know’st, in the ocean toss’d,
In the hands of Ran now lies.”
“Well, then, I’ll procure thee a hammer new,”
Says Lok, the deceiver sly,