Silent she stood; her eyelids were half-closed;
Her visage pale as death: through all the caves
Glimmer’d a lurid flame. Upon the brow
Of Lok glared visibly the stamp of crime.
The mountain dame long contemplated Thor
With look serene, though stern: the god remain’d
Mournful and mute. At length a sigh exhaled
Of deep compassion from her lab’ring breast:
Grave was her aspect; in each feature reign’d
The calm of peace: peculiar tenderness,