Deck’d with many a jewel shone.
“Come, sister! ’tis time (so a truce to your blushes)
To couch with your bridegroom on bed of dry rushes:
As consort of Thrymur I’ll hail thee at morn;
And many a gem shall thy temples adorn.”
Now to fetch the shaft divine,
Giant Thrymur made a sign.
“In the bosom of my bride
Be it placed!” the giant cried.
“’Tis the hour of midnight; now