Never again shall Thor, I swear, his much-prized arm behold,
Unless I clasp in my embrace Freya with hair of gold.”
Thus spake the giant-king: a dwarf, as page, came to the gate,
And oped it; in his master went; the dwarf then closed it strait.
Lok stood without at th’ midnight hour abandon’d and forlorn,
To Asar and to giants both the object of their scorn.
He laugh’d out loudly in the dark: so fearful was the sound,
The owls perch’d on the forest trees fell down upon the ground.
To learn the cause, the scolding Ran rose from the depths of ocean,
And scars on warriors’ limbs now bled afresh at th’ wild commotion: