Page:Icelandic Poetry or the Edda of Sæmund (1797).pdf/227

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( 181 )

Nor does he, till those lands in sight
Where giants wander, check his flight.

V.
Thrim, Thursori Lord, was now
High seated on a mountain brow:
He call’d his dogs in pairs around;
Their necks in golden leashes bound;
And, recent from the dusty plain,
Compos'd each flying courser's main,

THRYM.
Lok! what message dost thou bring,
From Asi on impetuous wing,
(The chief begun) that thus alone,
Thy face is to the Jötni shown?

LOK.
Woes the Asi race betide!
Alfi sons have lost their pride!
Hast thou, chief, the mallet hid,
Late possessd by Elorrid?