Around his loins he draws his girdle tight,
His eye with triumph flashes bright,
The frail boat splits aneath his weight;
The frail boat splits,—but on the ocean's ground
Thor again hath footing found;
Within his arms the worm is bound.
Hymer, who in the strife no part had took,
But like a trembling aspen shook,
Rouseth him to avert the stroke.
In the last night, the vala hath decreed
Thor, in Odin's utmost need,
To the worm shall bow the head.
Thus, in sunk voice, the craven giant spoke,
Whilst from his belt a knife he took,
Forged by dwarfs aneath the rock.
Upon the magic belt straight 'gan to file;
Thor in bitter scorn to smile;
Mjolner swang in air the while.
In the worm's front full two-score leagues it fell;
From Gimle to the realms of hell
Echoed Jormungander's yell.
The ocean yawned; Thor's lightnings rent the sky;
Through the storm, the great sun's eye
Looked out on the fight from high.
Bifrost i' th' east shone forth in brightest green;
On its top, in snow-white sheen,
Heimdal at his post was seen.
On the charmed belt the dagger hath no power;
The star of Jotunheim 'gan to lour;
But now, in Asgard's evil hour,
When all his efforts foiled tall Hymer saw,
Wading to the serpent's maw,
On the kedge he 'gan to saw.
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