At hour of birth our lives were shaped;

The doom of fate can ne’er be ’scaped.

But Gerd inside hears the stranger, and thus speaks to her maid-servant:

What sounds unknown my ears invade,

Frightening this mansion’s peaceful shade;

The earth’s foundation rocks withal,

And trembling shakes all Gymer’s hall.

THE MAID-SERVANT:

Dismounted stands warrior sheen;

His courser crops the herbage green.