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 The mountain-dweller sat merry as boyhood, But soon like a blinded man he seemed; The son of Ygg gazed in his eyes: "For the gods a feast shalt thou forthwith get."

The word-wielder toil for the giant worked, And so revenge on the gods he sought; He bade Sif's mate the kettle bring: "Therein for ye all much ale shall I brew."

The far-famed ones could find it not, And the holy gods could get it nowhere; Till in truthful wise did Tyr speak forth, And helpful counsel to Hlorrithi gave.

"There dwells to the east of Elivagar Hymir the wise  at the end of heaven; A kettle my father  fierce doth own, A mighty vessel  a mile in depth."