Whilst the bellows plied Brok, and Sindre the hammer,
And Thor, that the sparks flew on high,
And the sides of the vaulted cave rang with the clamor,
Loke changed to a huge forest-fly.
And he sat him all swelling with venom and spite,
On Brok, the wrist just below;
But the dwarf’s skin was thick, and he recked not the bite,
Nor once ceased the bellows to blow.
And now, strange to say, from the roaring fire
Came the golden-haired Gullinburste,