And this ring was found, at the funeral mound,
On the bosom of Balder fair.
Now more iron the crew on the anvil threw,
No flame they for this required;
And though black and cold, they hammer’d it bold,
Till they gave it the form desired.
When the hammer for Thor, fit weapon of war,
Drew near to its termination,
Lok, fraudful in mind, and to mischief inclin’d,
Undertook a new transformation,