Skáldskaparmál

Against the maid, kinswoman
Of the sedge-cowled giant.

And the honor-lessener
Of the Lady of the Sea-Crag
Won foot-hold in the surging
Of the hail-rolled leaping hill-spate;
The rock-knave's swift Pursuer
Passed the broad stream of his staff's road,
Where the foam-flecked mighty rivers
Frothed with raging venom.

There they set the staves before them
In the streaming grove of dogfish;
The wind-wood's slippery pebbles,
Smitten to speech, slept not;
The clashing rod did rattle
'Gainst the worn rocks, and the rapid
Of the fells howled, storm-smitten,
On the river's stony anvil.

The Weaver of the Girdle
Beheld the washing slope-stream
Fall on his hard-grown shoulders:
No help he found to save him;
The Minisher of hill-folk
Caused Might to grow within him
Even to the roof of heaven,
Till the rushing flood should ebb.

The fair warriors of the Æsir,
In battle wise, fast waded,

And the surging pool, sward-sweeping,
Streamed: the earth-drift's billow,
Blown by the mighty tempest,
Tugged with monstrous fury
At the terrible oppressor
Of the earth-born tribe of cave-folk.

Till Thjálfi came uplifted
On his lord Thor's wide shield-strap:
That was a mighty thew-test
For the Prop of Heaven; the maidens
Of the harmful giant stiffly
Held the stream stubborn against them;
The Giantess-Destroyer
With Grídr's staff fared sternly.

Nor did their hearts of rancor
Droop in the men unblemished,
Nor courage 'gainst the headlong
Fall of the current fail them:
A fiercer-daring spirit
Flamed in the dauntless God's breast,
- With terror Thor's staunch heart-stone
Trembled not, nor Thjálfi's.

And afterward the haters
Of the host of sword-companions,
The shatterers of bucklers,
Dinned on the shield of giants,
Ere the destroying peoples
Of the shingle-drift of monsters

Wrought the helm-play of Hedinn
'Gainst the rock-dwelling marksmen.

The hostile folk of sea-heights
Fled before the Oppressor
Of headland tribes; the dalesmen
Of the hill-tops, imperilled,
Fled, when Odin's kindred
Stood, enduring staunchly;
The Danes of the flood-reef's border
Bowed down to the Flame-Shaker.

Where the chiefs, with thoughts of valor
Imbued, marched into Thorn's house,
A mighty crash resounded
Of the cave's ring-wall; the slayer
Of the mountain-reindeer-people
On the giant-maiden's wide hood
Was brought in bitter peril:
There was baleful peace-talk.

And they pressed the high head, bearing
The piercing brow-moon's eye-flame
Against the hill-hall's rafters;
On the high roof-tree broken
He crushed those raging women:
The swinging Storm-car's Guider
Burst the stout, ancient back-ridge
And breast-bones of both women.

Earth's Son became familiar
With knowledge strange; the cave-men

Of the land of stone o'ercame not,
Nor long with ale were merry:
The frightful elm-string's plucker,
The friend of Sudri, hurtled
The hot bar, in the forge fused,
into the hand of Odin's Gladdener.

So that Gunnr's Swift-Speeder
Seized (the Friend of Freyja),
With quick hand-gulps, the molten
High-raised draught of metal,
When the fire-brand, glowing,
Flew with maddened fury
From the giant's gripping fingers
To the grim Sire of Thrúdr.

The hall of the doughty trembled
When he dashed the massy forehead
Of the hill-wight 'gainst the bottom
Of the house-wall's ancient column;
Ulir's glorious step-sire
With the glowing bar of mischief
Struck with his whole strength downward
At the hill-knave's mid-girdle.

The God with gory hammer
Crushed utterly Glaumr's lineage;
The Hunter of the Kindred
Of the hearth-dame was victorious;
The Plucker of the Bow-String
Lacked not his people's valor,-