His robe around his limbs he throws:
Vingolf he leaves with gloomy mind,
But Asa-Thor remains behind.
He sits with hand beneath his chin,
And eyes the wolf with looks of spleen,
But both keep silence: in the hall
The waiting-damsels enter all,
To quench the lights; in darkness now
The god must sit with wrinkled brow:
Yet still he fix’d with looks of ire