Chapter III: Canto I: Thor Sets Out on an Adventure with Lok

A story wonderful to hear
Recorded stands in ancient runes;
Now to my golden harp give ear,
And ponder well its mystic tunes!
The strange events, which yet remain
Unravell’d of the Asar bright,
Be mine the glory to explain,
And all their actions bring to light.

Th’ eternal wars, the deadly hate
Between the Gods and Giant race;
Of Asa-Lok the guile innate;
Alfader’s wisdom; Freya’s grace;
The Berserk fights of Thor the bold;
The joys of Valhall, dome sublime:
All these I sing: come, young and old!
And listen to my varied rhyme!

Thus sang in days of yore a Scald,
And I from him repeat the song:
A land there is, Trudvanger call’d,
Where frowns a castle huge and strong:
This building boasts its massive walls,
And many a spacious colonnade;
Its forty and five hundred halls
With silver or with gold inlaid.

How many forests, lakes and fields
On every side this pile surround!
The roof is tiled with copper shields,
Which shed a dazzling lustre round.
Therein the mighty Asa dwells,
Whom mortals term the god of war;
Odin excepted, he excels
All other gods: his name is Thor.

Around his waist a belt he wears,
And gloves of steel his hands protect;
Miölner, a hammer vast, he bears,
When in the fight he stands erect.
That belt a tenfold power doth give,
When round his loins he girds it tight;
Nor doth the foe remain alive,
On whom his hammer haps to light.

Late vanquish’d by the Asar brave,
Excluded from the solar ray,
Bound in the mountain’s deepest cave,
In fetters Lok of Utgard lay.
But vain the giant monarch’s doom,
Naught can his stubborn hate control;
Here in the midst of cold and gloom
Fresh thoughts of vengeance fire his soul.

Like singed threads his chains he rends,
Bursts through the surface of the earth,
To Upsala his course he bends,
Of Northern gods the sacred hearth;
He there extinguishes the fire,
And shakes to dust the temple’s walls.[13]
This deed excites great Odin’s ire;
To council he the Asar calls.

Each at the council board, I ween,
Gave the advice that seem’d him fit:
But Thor with hand beneath his chin
Lost in reflection seem’d to sit.
Much did the hero muse and scan,
How best to punish Loki’s crime,
And by some well-concerted plan
To crush the Lord of Jotunheim.

To rove in search of glorious war
This Asa chief finds much delight,
High seated in his golden car
Drawn by two goats of colour white.
Earth well may tremble with dismay,
When through the skies this chariot rolls,
For clouds then veil the face of day,
And awful thunders shake the poles.

But ’mongst the Asar one call’d Lok
Holds rank, nor undeserved the name;
For much he joys with spiteful mock
To lacerate his neighbours’ fame.
Howe’er he shine in outward grace,
Hollow and false is all within:
Before the Ash[14] he oft must pass
In penance for his various sin.

With scorpion wit and envious tongue
Though oft he gives the Asar pain,
Still his arch jests and gibing song
Compel them strait to laugh again:
His features fair are own’d by all,
But all his mind perverse deplore;
He takes his seat in Odin’s hall
Upon the bench next Asa-Thor.

The Nymphs[15], that Valhall’s dome adorn,
With breast of lily, cheek of pink,
To all th’ Einherier in their turn
Now bear around th’ immortal drink.
The largest horn high-fill’d with mead
Was drain’d by Thor the chieftain bold:
And then to seek his goats he sped,
And yoke them to his car of gold.

He grasps his hammer, mounts his car,
And bids Lok place him by his side;
The thunders roar, the lightnings glare,
As down the vault of heaven they glide!
Heimdaller views them roll along,
And greets with trumpet loud and shrill:
The seven virgins[16] tune their song,
And Thor salute with gracious smile.

Then Lok on fraud and guile intent,
Thus Thor address’d: “Methinks, ’tis time
Our bitter foes to circumvent,
And quell the powers of Jotunheim;
Thou mayst defy the force of fire,
And laugh to scorn the earthquake’s shock;
Feelest thou not a strong desire
For once to visit Utgard Lok?”

Then Thor: “My corslet braves the steel;
My helm unbruised in fight remains:
And, be he dwarf or giant fell,
Whom Miölner strikes, it ends his pains.”
Now to the earth they swift descend;
The birds sing gaily in the wood,
And every flower its head doth bend,
Owning the presence of a god.

The sun now sinks beneath the main,
The night obscures its parting rays;
Rolling athwart the starry plain,
The moon its silver disk displays:
Two funeral mounds appear in sight:
Then first the eyes of Asa Thor
Glisten’d in triumph. Late at night
They stand a peasant’s hut before.

They ask for shelter; lowly bows
The peasant, and replies: “My lords!
You’re welcome here to seek repose;
But little else my roof affords.”
They needs must stoop to enter through
The cottage door; and there they found
The peasant’s wife and daughter too
Sitting the lowly hearth around.

The daughter was a graceful maid
With azure eyes and golden hair.
They rose; and thus the matron said:
“Alas! but meagre is our fare:
Mere roots and herbs our meal supply;
No flesh invigorates our blood.”
“Fear not! This night shall be no lack of food.”

See now the giant-queller raise
His hammer! lo! his goats he slew!
Such was his custom: with amaze,
Yet not displeased this act to view,
The old dame stared; then rushed in haste
Upon the board to spread the cloth;
While Lok, as cook, prepared to baste
The meat, and mix the savoury broth.

A wondrous fact I now reveal:
Thor drives these goats around the earth,
And slays them for his nightly meal,
When no provisions cheer the hearth.
This done, their skins and bones he takes,
And casts them in a corner strait:
And lo! those goats, when he awakes,
Again stand living at the gate.

See from the wood the peasant’s son
Laden with faggots now appear!
He piles them on the hearth: anon
The smoking steaks the trav’llers cheer:
No dish had they; Thor’s buckler broad
This want supplied: and now they feed
With hearty zest, while the goats’ blood
Furnish’d to all delicious mead.

No sooner was the supper past,
Thor rose observant of his rite;
The bones within the skins he cast;
This did not ’scape the urchin’s sight:
His liquorish tooth would fain partake
Of daintier food than met the eye;
So unperceived a bone he brake,
And suck’d the marrow greedily.

The morning dawn’d: with choral strain
The feather’d songsters fill the skies:
The sun ascends: the travellers twain
From slumbers light refresh’d arise.
To war and bold adventure prone,
Each buckles on his armour strait,
And whets his weapon on the stone,
That stands without the cottage gate.

As in the car the Asar sprung,
The urchin’s trick was manifest;
One goat limp’d heavily along,
As if with lameness sore oppress’d.[17]
Thor was enraged; his colour fled;
He bit his lips; his eyes flash’d fire;
Well might the wretched peasant dread
For wife and child the chieftain’s ire.

But more so, when he saw the chief
Brandish on high his hammer vast:
The danger threaten’d, no relief
At hand; with fear he stood aghast:
Then, kneeling down, he humbly sued
Forgiveness for the stripling’s guile,
Offering all he had: the God
At such an offer well might smile.

Relenting at the peasant’s prayer,
And pitying his extreme distress,
He bade him rise with friendly air,
And gave his hand in pledge of peace.
“If to my care thou wilt confide
Those children stout,” said Asa-Thor,
“I will for all their wants provide,
And teach them both the art of war.”

Pleased to escape with a whole skin,
This offer glad the swain embraced:
Lok gave to each a javelin,
And strait their limbs in armour laced:
Their glist’ning eyes the joy reveal
Of Tialfe bold, and Roska bright:
To serve the God how proud they feel,
And court the perils of the fight.

The Lord of Trudvang now design’d
On foot to seek the giant’s lair:
His car and goats he left behind,
Confided to the peasant’s care.
Impatient of delay, he fain
Would march direct to Jotunheim.
They journey on o’er many a plain,
And rivers cross, and mountains climb.

And now can I assert with truth,
Tialfe became a warrior good;
No son of earth could e’er this youth
Surpass in zeal and fortitude:
His strength by Thor was duly prized,
As gay he trudg’d across the field,
And on his brawny shoulders poised
The heavy bag with viands fill’d.

E’en Freya’s self could scarce excel
Young Roska for her shape and air;
Her bosom now is cased in steel,
A golden helmet crowns her hair.
Thor towers aloft in plates of brass,
With Miölner in his right hand gleaming:
Lok trips along in light cuirass,
His dark locks o’er his shoulders streaming.

Now marching on, the tedious way
They oft beguile with gay discourse;
Sudden a wild tempestuous sea
Appears in sight, and checks their course!
The roaring billows reckless roll’d
White foaming ’gainst the marble steep!
And Rana’s voice was heard to scold
With frightful scream from out the deep!

The mighty monarch, Ægir hight,
Consort of Ran, o’er ocean reigns:
Beneath a roof of pearl so bright
He sits, and stern his right maintains;
With diamond-pointed pole the wave
He guides; a silver helmet, starr’d
With coral, decks his temples grave,
And sea-weed forms his shaggy beard.

On Hlesey you may find his throne
Of muscle-shell: this monarch sage
Can by a frown or wink alone
The billows’ utmost wrath assuage.
’Twixt him and Niord a pact holds good,[18]
And when Niord rides across the deep,
On coal-black courser mounted proud,
The winds are hush’d, the billows sleep.

Lok now with terror stood appall’d;
This did not ’scape Thor’s eye severe.
“Ha!” to his comrade stern he call’d:
“Let not thy courage fail thee here!
Take heart! take heart! if thus we shrink
At th’ onset of our enterprize,
What shame! what scandal! think! oh think!
Thou didst thyself this plan devise.”

Thus said, into the foaming sea
He plunged, and bade them follow strait:
No more delay; they all obey;
And spite of helm and corslet’s weight
With nervous arm they stem the brine;
With fear no more their bosoms quail:
They heed not now the mermaid’s whine,
And laugh to scorn the snorting whale.

On, on they swim with hope elate,
In spite of warring wave and wind;
And though the waves high o’er them beat,
Full many a mile they leave behind.
At length the lightning’s vivid flash
By fits reveals a glimpse of land;
And breakers, that around them dash,
Give hopes to gain the adverse strand.

How wondrous is thy strength, O Thor!
Encouraged by th’ example set
Of that brave chief, they reach the shore,
And land in garments dripping wet.
The moon, emerging from a cloud,
A wild and barren heath displays:
They droop, but Thor cries out aloud:
“Now, by yon moon’s benignant rays,

“We may some dwelling find at last;
Let us inland our course pursue!”
O’er sand and ice they struggle fast,
While cold and bleak the north-wind blew.
Roska at length, with marching spent,
Implored her fellow-trav’llers’ aid;
Lok carried now the damsel faint,
Lok ever lov’d a beauteous maid.

Now burst the clouds with thunder riven,
And dark as pitch the sky became,
Save when athwart the vault of heaven
A meteor lanced a transient flame!
The rain in torrents now descending,
Struck terror in each trav’ller’s breast;
E’en Thor himself, that chief unbending,
Could scarce his mind of fear divest.

He girds his belt around him tight:
“Here Lok of Utgard’s juggling play
Hath ample scope the heroes bright
Of Asagard to lead astray.
But short shall the fiend’s triumph be;
His insolence will I chastise,
And teach him low to bend the knee
Before the rulers of the skies!”

Thus Thor. At length a hut they find;
They enter; it may serve them well
For shelter from the piercing wind
And rain, that still in torrents fell.
But such a hut was never seen;[19]
Open remain’d one side entire;
’T was one vast door; the chiefs, I ween,
This entrance strange did much admire.

They loose their wallet now to seek
Their food, by hunger gaunt compell’d;
Poor Roska, with a pallid cheek,
Sat in a corner, half congeal’d.
Two legs of goat they soon consumed,
Then laid them down to seek repose;
But Thor alone the watch assumed,
His thoughts forbid his eyes to close.

His cheek upon his palm reclines;
He sits beside the spacious door;
Secure of Miölner, he designs
Destruction to the giant’s power.
This gives him comfort and delight;
What glory will to him accrue!
How oft during the long, long night,
He grasps with pride his weapon true!