Tears canst thou shed, like Dragon foul, when, eager for his food,
He seeketh travelers to entrap within the marshy flood;
But out with it! thy errand quick, O turncoat vile, relate!
Be frank for once, or in thy face, by Hel, I’ll shut my gate.”
“Ah! thou hast reason to be proud and haughty,” answer’d Lok:
“Now may’st thou with contempt on Thor, and all Valhalla look:
Hast thou not found his hammer ’twixt the scales of Jormundgard?
A glorious booty ’tis, forsooth: ’twill all your pains reward:
For though that hammer’s use thyself thou dost not understand,
Immense advantage ’twill afford; thou may’st with right demand,