Our Utgard-Lok in gloomiest caverns dwells.
Yet is his prison vast; we still can boast
A world more glorious than the one we’ve lost.
We hold more treasures in our grots profound,
Than on the surface of the earth are found.
With ether’s glitt’ring orbs let Odin toy;
In frothy billows Ægir seek his joy;
Frigga in fading flow’rets boast her choice;
The Alfs in unsubstantial air rejoice:
But we possess fire, metals, precious stones,