The sea it is both soft and hard,
And flings white spray upon the land."
16. "O hearken now, Heithrek my King,
Where does the sapling grow,—
Its root is turned towards high Heaven,
And its head turned down below?"
17. "The icicle on the high crags,
No sapling it is I trow,
Yet its root is turned towards high heaven,
And its head turned down below."