Page:Icelandic Poetry or the Edda of Sæmund (1797).pdf/91

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SONG

OF

GRIMNER


I.
Fire! spare thy fury spare,
Nor thus thy torrents on me bear:
Thy flames fierce flashing from me turn
In vain I strive—my garments burn:
Tho’ high in air my cloak I raise,
It wastes before thy scorching blaze.

II.
By the pale fires sullen light,
I’ve watch’d eight times the round of night.
Mortals on me disdain to think,
Nor offer food, nor offer drink—
Agnarr except—who kind of soul,
Gave one cool refreshing bow
Thou gentle Youth! so fates have told,
The sceptre of the Goths shalt hold.