Page:Once a Week Dec 1860 to June 61.pdf/139

126 Stand up, ye Ogres all,

Strew us our seats;

Fetch me now hither

Freyja to wife,

Njord’s fair daughter

From Noatown.”

Here in the garth graze

Gold-hornèd kine,

Oxen all-swarthy,

The Ogre’s delight;

Rich store of rings have I,

Hoards of red gold;

Freyja alone methinks

FailsFalls [sic] to my lot.”

Then down to supper

They speedily sate,

And for the Ogres all

Ale was brought out;

One ox all alone,

Salmons eight, also,

Together with dainties

Dished up for the women—

These—and three butts of mead

Sif’s husband bolted.

Thus then quoth Thrym,

Lord of the Thursa-kin:

Where saw’st thou bonny burd

Bite more keenly?

Ne’er saw I bride before

Broader in mouth;

No! nor more mead ever

Maiden drain down!”

There sat in wait

That waiting-maid witty,

Finding an answer

For all Ogre-talk:

Nights eight fair Freyja

Ne’er once her fast broke,

So eager was she

For dear Ogreland.”

Under her veil he look’d,

Longing to kiss her,

But back he leapt soon

The length of the hall:

Why so fierce, pri’thee!

Are fair Freyja’s eyeballs?

Methinks from her eyne flames

Burning flash forth!”

There sat in wait

That waiting-maid witty,

Finding an answer

For all Ogre-talk:

Nights eight fair Freyja

Ne’er once a wink slept,

So eager was she

For dear Ogreland.”

In came the ugly

Ogre-lord’s sister,

She that a bride-fee

Dared to beseech:

Reach from thy fingers

Gold rings so ruddy,

If my own heart’s love

Thou listest to have,

True love so heart-whole,

That all homage pays.”

Thus then quoth Thrym,

Lord of the Thursa-kin:

Bring here the hammer

To hallow the bride,

Lay now the Mauler

On fair maiden’s knee;

Wed us together

With Var’s holy hand.”

Laugh’d then the Hardhitter’s

Heart in his breast,

As hard-hafted hammer

He handled again;

Thrym he slew first of all,

Lord of the Thursa-kin,

Then all that Ogre-band

Batter’d to bits.

Her too he slew there—

That old Ogre’s sister,

She who for bride-fee

Had dared to beseech;

Hard blows she had then

Instead of hard coin,

Maul’s ringing strokes

Instead of red rings—

So came at last

Odin’s son to his hammer.

G. W. D.

our homeward route from a tour in the Tyrol, we found ourselves on the 18th of October at Heidelberg. The amphitheatre of hanging wood, which rises immediately behind the grand old castle, was glorious with the many-coloured tints of Autumn. In and about the ruins, the sombre foliage of the dark firs contrasted with trees which appeared transmuted into gold. The walks were illuminated, not shadowed, by overhanging branches assuming all the varied changes of deep brown, ruby, red, and dazzling yellow. The effect of colouring was fascinating beyond measure. The whole combination of castle, river, hills, and wood, decked in their gorgeous hues, might have been a dream of Turner’s. Many woodland scenes had we enjoyed under the bright influence of Autumn skies, but never, we agreed, had we beheld such brilliancy of tints, as at this place and time.

Those who know Heidelberg (and who does not?) will mentally recall the scene when we describe ourselves as standing on the Altan, or Castle Terrace, which immediately overlooks the town. The haste of the tributary Neckar to join the imperial Rhine causes some brawling and chafing, as it