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.