Now all at once, to water changed, he gushes down amain.
And all he meets in his career drives headlong down to Ran.
Now Skada with dishevell’d hair from Dovre’s cliffs arose;
She grasp’d her lance, to deal around dire wounds and mortal blows:
“Up! come to help me! bridegroom dear!” thus call’d she out to Niord:
The god turns pale with anger, when he hears her voice abhorr’d.
But luck would have it, Idun fair was on that very morn
Replaced in Valhall; at her sight Niord felt his strength return;
Like tempest from the south he rose, and vanquish’d the east-wind,
And Skada fled to hide herself drear Finnmark’s rocks behind.