Saga Forsete’s footsteps close with graver and with shield
Had follow’d, to record in runes whatever time reveal’d:
But every morning her return the anxious gods await,
To hear her ’fore Alfader’s throne her narrative relate.
But Niord, to Skada married, soon the ill-match’d union rued:
She bade him to the nuptial-couch on Dovre’s summit rude;
In every corner of the rock the eddying whirlwind roars,
While Skada’s brother o’er the sea, the tall Vandhose, soars:
His arms cling to the sky; his legs drop dangling o’er the wave;
He laughs; the seamen at his sight are fill’d with terror grave: