And lo, the Vigil of the Arms was done!
IV
Now, mass being said, before the priest he brought
That glittering prophecy, his untried sword.
In some mysterious forge the blade was wrought,
By shadowy arms of force that baffle thought
Wrought curiously in the dim under-world;
And all along the sheath processions poured,
Thronged shapes of earth’s weird morn
Ere yet the hammer of Thor was downward hurled: