Assembles us with murky wink: I saw him,
The mighty Thor; wroth was he, and his hammer
Was in his hand. He stood by Gevar's dwelling:
He spoke to me, and soon as e'er I answer'd
He vanished, thundering in the eastern heavens.
It is not sport, nor any childish quarrel,
Be ye assured, makes Thor descend from Asgaard.

THE FIRST. He spake to thee?

THE THIRD. As when the warriors slumber,
And suddenly are wak'd to thousand dangers
By din of shields and mingled squadrons' tumult,
So tower'd he up and shouted when he saw me,
And dread and hollow as the ocean's bellow,
As moan of forests in the nightly tempest,
Sounded his voice unto my ear!
"What, Rota!" he shouted; Rota here! "Ye gods of heaven!
Whom seekest thou, where unclomb rocks engirdle
Peace, smiling peace? O say! whom, sent by Skulda,
Wilt thou devote upon the stilly mountains?
But ah! what light had I the power to kindle?
Dark is my spirit. The terrific Norna,
She who allots to time, ere it approaches,
It's luck, and binds it with determined fingers
Unto Fate's will, is silent, and drives Rota
Far from each plain belov'd where battle rages.
Yet shook the fatal spear with which conflicting
Monarchs I greet, at sunrise thrice it trembled;
And death lies heavy in my arm--that know I,