And Gerda then, her love to mark,
Enraptur’d with his graceful mien,
Gave to her friend a wondrous bark,[92]
The like of which was never seen.
Well might the Scald in times of yore
Of Hringhorn,[93] Balder’s vessel, say,
It flew unscathed o’er marsh and sea,
Nor quicksand fear’d, nor rocky shore.
There safely could the Disar fair
Sit by the gods in pomp array’d;