How easy is it to deceive
Mankind, if we but have the will!
The mass all, that they hear, believe,
And Lok in fraud is master still.”
Such was the restless caitiff’s song,
As sharp he grazed the mountain’s side:
On his best weapon he relied,
His merciless, unwearied tongue.
But, passing by some dwarfs, he paused,
And in his service press’d them all;