Over her waves
The linden’s bane:
Ygg whilom stuck
A sleep-thorn in the robe
Of the maid who
Would heroes choose.”
Lay of Fafnir (Thorpe’s tr.).
After riding for a long while through trackless regions, Sigurd at last came to the Hindarfiall in Frankland, a tall mountain whose cloud-wreathed summit seemed circled by fiery flames.
“Long Sigurd rideth the waste, when, lo! on a morning of day,
From out of the tangled crag walls, amidst the cloudland gray,