He felt with inward pang, and needs must own
His watch-dog’s heart more warm, more faithful than his own.
No longer now the warriors, as before,
Sit at the board of their crown’d chieftain high,
Gentle yet awful, worthy sons of Thor,
Soft temper’d by the radiance mild of Frey:
In scurrilous abuse and words of shame
To jealousy and hate they now give vent;
To slur and vilify his comrade’s fame,
More than to raise his own, each chief is bent;