O Frey! since with thy sword hath fled
All vigour from thy jaded loins.
Fair Gerda with her luscious kiss
Sucks out, like leech, thy warmest blood;
Each time thou tastest Freya’s bliss,
Much joy it gives to Angurbod.
HEIMDAL.
With the dark wizard ’neath yon rock,
Upon my life, thou must have drank,
And here thou com’st, with liquor rank,