Thor a mere giant then becomes: when at the midnight hour
Odin of witches dire invokes the soul-appalling power,
Yggdrassil trembles; then grows dry the fount in Urda’s vale:
Then shines the frightful Jormungard with doubly brilliant scale:
Hel’s colour from a livid blue changes from joy to white,
And Heimdal’s horn excites the world to sempiternal fight.”
But since his last expulsion Lok to mount to Valhall’s dome
Without safe conduct ventured not, and houseless still must roam:
Towards evening he reach’d the grove of beech on Sealand’s isle,
As homeward with his plough return’d the peasant from his toil.