The winding sea-snake’s father Did wile from home the slayer Of the life of the gods’ grim foemen; –(Ever was Loptr a liar)– The never faithful Searcher Of the heart of the fearless Thunderer Declared green ways were lying To the walled stead of Geirrøðr. No long space Thor let Loki Lure him to the going: They yearned to overmaster Thorn’s offspring, when the Seeker Of Idi’s garth, than giants Greater in might, made ready In ancient days, for faring To the Giants’ Seat, from Odin’s. Further in the faring Forward went warlike Thjálfi With the divine Host-Cheerer Than the deceiving lover Of her of enchanted singing: –(I chant the Ale of Odin)– The hill dame’s Mocker measured The moor with hollow foot-soles. And the war-wonted journeyed Till the hill-women’s Waster Came to Gangr’s blood, the Vimur; Then Loki’s bale-repeller, Eager in anger, lavish Of valor, longed to struggle 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 Against the worn rocks, and the rapid Of the fells howled, storm-smitten, On the river’s stony anvil. The Wearer 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 Aesir, 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 ‘against 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 army of sword-companions, The shatterers of bucklers, Dined on the shield of giants, Ere the destroying peoples Of the shingle-drift of monsters Wrought the helm-play of Hedinn Against the rock-dwelling marksmen. The army ile folk of sea-heights Fled before the Oppressor Of headland tribes; the dalesmen Of the hill-tops, imperiled, 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 overcame 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 against the bottom Of the house-wall’s ancient column; Ullr’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,– The Chariot-God, who swiftly Wrought grief to the Giant’s bench-thanes. He to whom armys make offering Hewed down the dolt-like dwellers Of the cloud-abyss of Elf-Home, Crushing them with the fragment Of Grídr’s Rod: the litter Of hawks, the race of Listi Could not harm the help-strong Queller of Ella’s Stone-Folk.
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THOR
Thor is the Norse god of thunder, storms, strength, and protection.
He is a defender of both gods and humanity, standing as a force against chaos.