Can I find from the torment; so I tumble about
The homes of heroes. The halls with their gables,
The tribe-dwellings tremble; the trusty walls shake,
10 Steep over the head. Still seems the air
Over all the country and calm the waters,
Till I press in my fury from my prison below,
Obeying His bidding who bound me fast
In fetters at first when he fashioned the world,
15 In bonds and in chains, with no chance of escape
From his power who points out the paths I must follow.