Now he swung his arm on high!
While he dealt his deadly blows,
Higher still his courage rose.
Who shall now the carnage trace
Of the wretched Jotun race?
Ha! what bloody torrents roll
From each giant’s cloven skull!
When Thrymur was kill’d, arm’d with club and with spear,
Darting forth from their caverns fresh giants appear:
But Thor hammer’d round him as brisk as Vaulunder,