From the Poetic Edda, translated by Henry Adams Bellows

The Thrymskvitha (Old Norse: "The Lay of Thrym") is the ninth poem in the Codex Regius, the principal manuscript of the Poetic Edda. It follows the Lokasenna and precedes the Alvíssmál. The poem is found only in the Regius manuscript; Snorri does not quote from it, nor does the story appear in the Prose Edda.

The poem has been called "the finest ballad in the world," and not without reason. Thor's hammer Mjollnir is stolen by the frost-giant Thrym, who demands the goddess Freyja as his bride in exchange for its return. Freyja refuses — so violently that the Brisings' necklace bursts from her neck. Heimdall proposes the solution: disguise Thor himself as the bride. Reluctantly, Thor dons the bridal veil, with Loki as his maid-servant, and the two travel to Jotunheim. At the wedding feast, the disguised Thor devours an ox, eight salmon, and three tuns of mead. Thrym is puzzled but Loki explains each anomaly away. When the hammer is brought in to hallow the bride, Thor seizes it and slays every giant in the hall. It is comedy from start to finish — swift, vivid, and precise.

The poem is generally dated to about 900 and is one of the oldest in the collection. In striking contrast to many of the Eddic poems, it contains no prose narrative links — the entire story is told in verse, a rare achievement in the Edda. The poem has been preserved in excellent condition, without serious gaps or interpolations.

This is Henry Adams Bellows' translation from The Poetic Edda (1923), published by the American-Scandinavian Foundation in New York. The translation was verified against the Wikisource proofread edition, transcribed from the original 1923 printed text.

Introductory Note

The Thrymskvitha is found only in the Codex Regius, where it follows the Lokasenna. Snorri does not quote from it, nor, rather oddly, does the story occur in the Prose Edda.

Artistically the Thrymskvitha is one of the best, as it is, next to the Voluspo, the most famous, of the entire collection. It has, indeed, been called "the finest ballad in the world," and not without some reason. Its swift, vigorous action, the sharpness of its characterization and the humor of the central situation combine to make it one of the most vivid short narrative poems ever composed. Of course we know nothing specific of its author, but there can be no question that he was a poet of extraordinary ability. The poem assumed its present form, most critics agree, somewhere about 900, and thus it is one of the oldest in the collection. It has been suggested, on the basis of stylistic similarity, that its author may also have composed the Skirnismol, and possibly Baldrs Draumar. There is also some resemblance between the Thrymskvitha and the Lokasenna (note, in this connection, Bugge's suggestion that the Skirnismol and the Lokasenna may have been by the same man), and it is not impossible that all four poems have a single authorship.

The Thrymskvitha has been preserved in excellent condition, without any serious gaps or interpolations. In striking contrast to many of the poems, it contains no prose narrative links, the story being told in narrative verse — a rare phenomenon in the poems of the Edda.

Wild was Vingthor when he awoke,
And when his mighty hammer he missed;
He shook his beard, his hair was bristling,
As the son of Jorth about him sought.

Hear now the speech that first he spake:
"Harken, Loki, and heed my words,
Nowhere on earth is it known to man,
Nor in heaven above: our hammer is stolen."

To the dwelling fair of Freyja went they,
Hear now the speech that first he spake:
"Wilt thou, Freyja, thy feather-dress lend me,
That so my hammer I may seek?"

Freyja spake:

"Thine should it be though of silver bright,
And I would give it though 'twere of gold."
Then Loki flew, and the feather-dress whirred,
Till he left behind him the home of the gods,
And reached at last the realm of the giants.

Thrym sat on a mound, the giants' master,
Leashes of gold he laid for his dogs,
And stroked and smoothed the manes of his steeds.

Thrym spake:

"How fare the gods, how fare the elves?
Why comst thou alone to the giants' land?"

Loki spake:

"Ill fare the gods, ill fare the elves!
Hast thou hidden Hlorrithi's hammer?"

Thrym spake:

"I have hidden Hlorrithi's hammer,
Eight miles down deep in the earth;
And back again shall no man bring it
If Freyja I win not to be my wife."

Then Loki flew, and the feather-dress whirred,
Till he left behind him the home of the giants,
And reached at last the realm of the gods.
There in the courtyard Thor he met:
Hear now the speech that first he spake:

"Hast thou found tidings as well as trouble?
Thy news in the air shalt thou utter now;
Oft doth the sitter his story forget,
And lies he speaks who lays himself down."

Loki spake:

"Trouble I have, and tidings as well:
Thrym, king of the giants, keeps thy hammer,
And back again shall no man bring it
If Freyja he wins not to be his wife."

Freyja the fair then went they to find;
Hear now the speech that first he spake:
"Bind on, Freyja, the bridal veil,
For we two must haste to the giants' home."

Wrathful was Freyja, and fiercely she snorted,
And the dwelling great of the gods was shaken,
And burst was the mighty Brisings' necklace:
"Most lustful indeed should I look to all
If I journeyed with thee to the giants' home."

Then were the gods together met,
And the goddesses came and council held,
And the far-famed ones a plan would find,
How they might Hlorrithi's hammer win.

Then Heimdall spake, whitest of the gods,
Like the Wanes he knew the future well:
"Bind we on Thor the bridal veil,
Let him bear the mighty Brisings' necklace;

"Keys around him let there rattle,
And down to his knees hang woman's dress;
With gems full broad upon his breast,
And a pretty cap to crown his head."

Then Thor the mighty his answer made:
"Me would the gods unmanly call
If I let bind the bridal veil."

Then Loki spake, the son of Laufey:
"Be silent, Thor, and speak not thus;
Else will the giants in Asgarth dwell
If thy hammer is brought not home to thee."

Then bound they on Thor the bridal veil,
And next the mighty Brisings' necklace.

Keys around him let they rattle,
And down to his knees hung woman's dress;
With gems full broad upon his breast,
And a pretty cap to crown his head.

Then Loki spake, the son of Laufey:
"As thy maid-servant thither I go with thee;
We two shall haste to the giants' home."

Then home the goats to the hall were driven,
They wrenched at the halters, swift were they to run;
The mountains burst, earth burned with fire,
And Othin's son sought Jotunheim.

Then loud spake Thrym, the giants' leader:
"Bestir ye, giants, put straw on the benches;
Now Freyja they bring to be my bride,
The daughter of Njorth out of Noatun.

"Gold-horned cattle go to my stables,
Jet-black oxen, the giant's joy;
Many my gems, and many my jewels,
Freyja alone did I lack, methinks."

Early it was to evening come,
And forth was borne the beer for the giants;
Thor alone ate an ox, and eight salmon,
All the dainties as well that were set for the women;
And drank Sif's mate three tuns of mead.

Then loud spake Thrym, the giants' leader:
"Who ever saw bride more keenly bite?
I ne'er saw bride with a broader bite,
Nor a maiden who drank more mead than this!"

Hard by there sat the serving-maid wise,
So well she answered the giant's words:
"From food has Freyja eight nights fasted,
So hot was her longing for Jotunheim."

Thrym looked 'neath the veil, for he longed to kiss,
But back he leaped the length of the hall:
"Why are so fearful the eyes of Freyja?
Fire, methinks, from her eyes burns forth."

Hard by there sat the serving-maid wise,
So well she answered the giant's words:
"No sleep has Freyja for eight nights found,
So hot was her longing for Jotunheim."

Soon came the giant's luckless sister,
Who feared not to ask the bridal fee:
"From thy hands the rings of red gold take,
If thou wouldst win my willing love,
My willing love and welcome glad."

Then loud spake Thrym, the giants' leader:
"Bring in the hammer to hallow the bride;
On the maiden's knees let Mjollnir lie,
That us both the hand of Vor may bless."

The heart in the breast of Hlorrithi laughed
When the hard-souled one his hammer beheld;
First Thrym, the king of the giants, he killed,
Then all the folk of the giants he felled.

The giant's sister old he slew,
She who had begged the bridal fee;
A stroke she got in the shilling's stead,
And for many rings the might of the hammer.

And so his hammer got Othin's son.

Colophon

The Thrymskvitha is the ninth poem of the Poetic Edda as preserved in the Codex Regius (GKS 2365 4to, c. 1270). This is the translation of Henry Adams Bellows, from The Poetic Edda (New York: The American-Scandinavian Foundation, 1923). The poem is one of the most celebrated in the entire Edda — comic rather than tragic, swift rather than solemn, and composed with an economy that most poets would envy. Its thirty-three stanzas tell a complete story without a single prose interlude, a feat unmatched elsewhere in the collection. The central joke — the god of thunder disguised as a blushing bride, devouring an ox at his own wedding feast while his maid-servant (Loki) improvises excuses — has delighted audiences for over a thousand years. The poem is generally dated to about 900 and is among the oldest of the Eddic poems.

Compiled and formatted for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026.

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