Methinks, to tell thee truth, my gentle swain!
All goes not right in thy fond master’s brain.”
And now his master’s actions and his fate
Did Skirnir circumstantially relate:
How he ascended Hlidskialf’s lofty tower,
And what from thence he view’d in Gerda’s bower:
How, when her charms she bared, love’s potent dart
At once transfix’d his vacillating heart.
With downcast look and palpitating breast,
Deep blushing, Gerda listen’d to her guest.