CANTO XXIX.

THE HAMMER OF THOR RECOVERED.

Seated in his golden car, Gliding swift as shooting star, Thor, with Loptur by his side, Towards the giant’s dwelling hied. Lok on treason ever bent, Pleased his foes to circumvent, At the triumph of his guile Chuckled with malignant smile.

Now tremble the rocks! they proceed on their way: The mountains a wide yawning entrance display! But only half open the portal was found; And a flame often flash’d through the darkness profound.

Black as jet, but streak’d with flame, Thrymur to the portal came: There the giant proud and strong Tower’d amidst his vassal throng! On his brows a diadem Deck’d with many a brilliant gem. Now he greets, with conscious pride, Graciously his beauteous bride.

At the porch as his life-guards six monarchs behold! One glitt’ring in Silver; one flaming in Gold; One in Iron dark blue; one in Copper bright red; White in Tin was this chieftain; that, sable in Lead.

From the car the gods descend: Thrymur see! his hand extend To conduct his fancied spouse: High his blood with passion glows. Many a gloomy corridor Must the Asar pass, before They can reach the giant’s throne, Shining in the vast saloon.

Each gem, like a princess so fine and so fair, Graced the hall: sprightly Ruby, gay Emerald was there; Mild Sapphire, and Diamond so regal in mien: Their splendid tiaras enliven the scene.

Through the humid caverns, where Sunbeam ne’er hath cheer’d the air, Thor moves onward, free from dread, By his giant consort led. Little dwarfs, the way to show, Foremost march the gall’ries through, Holding each a sulphur brand Blazing in his rugged hand.

Half conceal’d in a corner, and far from the light, There stand the shield-bearers, all ready for fight: There was sour-featur’d Vitriol, and Arsenic fell, Whose look would the stoutest assailant repel.

Like a little child in mien, Pale and cross was Cobalt seen: Oft it stared with ghastly frown, Sitting on the gelid stone. Through the hall its fetid breath Spread around a scent of death: Legs it had not, but a pad Crown’d its venom-swelter’d head.

In the midst of the hall blazed a coal-cover’d pyre, And the giants assembled in troops round the fire: Cuirasses they wore on their hair-cover’d breasts, And defiance they breath’d with their high-waving crests.

Echoing now the rocks among Loud they chaunt a magic song: Like the dismal yell its sound Of the agonizing hound, When its belly drips with gore Torn by tusk of angry boar, While his bowels o’er the plain, Gasping short, he trails with pain.

Dame Hela two chieftains illustrious had sent From her palace; they both were of regal descent: Consumption, in gorgeous apparel array’d; Plague, with spots on his robe, and all conquering blade.

Sole of all the giant race Lok of Utgard did not grace Thrymur’s hall that marriage night: Visions dire his mind affright. Treason doth he apprehend; Carrion scents his nose offend. In a corner now was spread Deck’d with skins the nuptial bed.

While all the old giants and infants were stow’d, Wrapt in sleep, in the sov’reign of Utgard’s abode, Each grown male and female, each maiden and swain To assist at the marriage of Thrymur remain.

Thor in silken robe array’d Counterfeits the bashful maid: Now his eyes he glanced around; Now he fix’d them on the ground: Now the two round stones inspire Thrymur’s breast with amorous fire. Then the goblet-bearing swain Enter’d midst the festive train.

Now with hydromel sparkling each goblet he fill’d; Now into the hall rush’d the giants so wild: With flames now the cheeks of each other they smutted, And, like rams, with the horns on their temples they butted.

Eager now to join the feast Towards the board each giant prest: Much they stared the bride to see Eat and drink so lustily: Though he many a goblet drain’d, Thor unsated still remain’d: Still he for more liquor cries: What a sight for Thrymur’s eyes!

Scarce fill’d was Thor’s goblet, he emptied it strait, Though fill’d to the brim; a whole ox he ate, Eight salmon to boot; and with marvellous speed The husband of Sif swallow’d three tons of mead.

Then said Thrymur: “So much meat, So much fish doth Freya eat? So much beer? so much mead Can she swallow? strange, indeed! Who would not astonish’d be Such a dainty dame to see Drain each oft replenish’d bowl, As ’twere but a thimble-full?”

But Lok, who as waiting-maid stood by the side Of Thor, in excuse whisper’d Thrymur. “Thy bride Eight nights without eating or drinking hath past, And deep longing for thee was the cause of her fast.”

Thrymur now at what he heard Chuckled joyful in his beard: See him with enamour’d mien Towards his consort’s bosom lean! But Thor’s flashing eyes subdued Soon the lover’s hardihood; Quick the giant must retire Aw’d by Aukthor’s look of fire.

Then said Lok, from the giant all fears to remove: “Her thoughts ever dwelling on Thrymur and love, Poor Freya eight nights without sleeping hath past, Hence her eyes are so red, and her brow overcast.”

Then a female black as coal, With short frizzled hair like wool, Enter’d in the festive hall; Young was she, smooth skinn’d, and tall: On her brows a crown she wore, Emblem of her regal power: While around her waist a zone Deck’d with many a jewel shone.

“Come, sister! ’tis time (so a truce to your blushes) To couch with your bridegroom on bed of dry rushes: As consort of Thrymur I’ll hail thee at morn; And many a gem shall thy temples adorn.”

Now to fetch the shaft divine, Giant Thrymur made a sign. “In the bosom of my bride Be it placed!” the giant cried. “’Tis the hour of midnight; now Must be sworn the marriage vow:[101] Now by Miölner’s iron bright Mutual faith and troth we’ll plight.”

Scarce was utter’d the order, when in came a troop Of dwarfs bearing Miölner; and oft must they stoop: Scarce sufficient were they, though their number was great. And they gasp and they groan under Miölner’s vast weight.

When the Asa held at last In his hands the hammer fast, Pleas’d was he its nib to view Shining with reflection blue: Then he raised his stature up To the very cavern’s top: Roll’d his eye-balls flashing flame! Red, blood-red his cheek became!

The head-dress and veil from his helmet drop down; Indignant he tore from his body the gown: With the beard on his chin, and the scars on his breast, The broad-shoulder’d champion as Thor stood confest!

Berserk fury in his eye, Now he swung his arm on high! While he dealt his deadly blows, Higher still his courage rose. Who shall now the carnage trace Of the wretched Jotun race? Ha! what bloody torrents roll From each giant’s cloven skull!

When Thrymur was kill’d, arm’d with club and with spear, Darting forth from their caverns fresh giants appear: But Thor hammer’d round him as brisk as Vaulunder, When he beats on his anvil the iron asunder.

Hrugner now, a man of stone,[102] Onward moved with haughty frown, While his eyes with ghastly glow Hurl’d defiance on the foe: ’Stead of heart, within his breast Was a granite fragment placed; Twas three-corner’d; there it stood Void of feeling, void of blood.

And lo! for the giants a figure of clay Of aspect ferocious now join’d in the fray! His bosom was fill’d with the heart of a horse; Strong and mighty it made him, and swift at the course.

Now ’gainst Hrugner naught alarm’d Thor advanced with Miölner arm’d. On the club of Hrugner, lo! Thor inflicts a deadly blow! With such energy ’twas given, Hrugner’s mace was piecemeal riven, While its scatter’d fragments fall, Frightful clatt’ring round the hall.

But the clay-fashion’d chieftain was Mokkurcalf hight: He struck on his shield, and presumed on his might; But, pierced by the sword of young Tialf in the fray, The horse-fiend fell down with a horrible neigh.

Now was heard the dying moan, Many a shriek and many a groan! Thor was dreadful in his ire; Naught could tame his warlike fire. Thousand giants round him lay, Victims of the bloody fray. Down like tool of paviour fell Miölner with a pond’rous peal.

Now, reeking with blood, sprang the treacherous Lok ’Mongst the wounded, like Nidding, their miseries to mock; When he met with a giant all drench’d in his gore And dying, he laugh’d, and he stabb’d him once more.

Now there reign’d a silence deep, As when winds and billows sleep On the coast: with gloomy mien Thor beheld the frightful scene. From the giants’ dark abode, Fill’d with mangled limbs and blood, Every vital spark had fled: All was silent! all was dead!

In vain all their courage the giants display; With eyes closed in death, like mow’d rushes they lay: Naught remain’d of their strength or their valour behind; From their bodies hath fled the invincible mind.

As the lion, when his might Hath victorious proved in fight, Viewing now his vanquish’d prey Breathless, bleeding, fore him lie, With revenge no longer burns, All his rage to pity turns, And the beasts’ high-minded chief Ruminates in silent grief;

Thus Thor, when his fury was o’er, look’d and sigh’d Deep in silence and pensive, his victims beside: But Lok, like the lynx, from his lips licking gore, Grinn’d with cruel delight, and still thirsted for more.