Like warlike champions arm’d with spear and shield.
Then smil’d the father of the fight,
And said to Lok, who by his side was placed:
“Methinks, if I have read thy soul aright,
The peasant’s provender thou fain wouldst taste.
Of hunger too myself I feel the power;
By the long march fatigued, my spirits fail:
From Vardoe we are come, in one short hour,
To the dark birchen grove in Guldbrand’s dale.”
Then laughing, Lok replied: “Be sure,