No dish had they; Thor’s buckler broad
This want supplied: and now they feed
With hearty zest, while the goats’ blood
Furnish’d to all delicious mead.
No sooner was the supper past,
Thor rose observant of his rite;
The bones within the skins he cast;
This did not ’scape the urchin’s sight:
His liquorish tooth would fain partake
Of daintier food than met the eye;