Page:Icelandic Poetry or the Edda of Sæmund (1797).pdf/225

THE

ODE OF THRYM, &c.

I.
Thor uprising from his bed,
Finds his trusty mallet fled!
Stormy passion rends his soul;
Fierce his flashing eye-balls roll;
From his heaving breast uprear’d,
Gusty whirlwinds shake his beard;
With bootless search he gropes around ;
Then smites his head and stamps the ground,

II.
Furiously his voice he lifts;
Rocks resound and mountain clists:
Hasten, Lok! behold a crime,
Yet uncatalogued in time!