He only bows at virtue’s shrine,
Whose arm is weak and wit obtuse.
Vidar spoke not, but earnest stared
Full in the face of Asa-Lok;
The caitiff instant felt the shock,
With quiv’ring lip and visage scared.
The water-spout with gloomy frown,
Thus column-like from heaven doth come,
With thick shoes stamps old Ocean down,
And scatters far the billow’s scum.