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Power of the Name
for Iceland
Who opens my slumbering eyes, who has named me so,
Whose fire is bubbling and coiling under fastnesses of snow?
I am Frost-Hound, Howling-Snow-Wolf, Great White One,
I am Silver-Horse-of-Clouds and Ice-Giant-in-the-sun,
Not even tread of your feet do I feel, timid fair-headed men
Enchanted mountain asleep in magic stone I so long have been.
But I hear whispers of fearful awe, you bestow another name
I feel the spear-point of it, the rustling force of flame:
Loki you call me, the Evil One, He-who-kills-for-desire
He-who-destroys, the Betrayer, the God of Hungry Fire,
God of Ruses, Ruthless One, he whom all fair gods loathe;
I shudder. I have been in starlight, silence and power clothed
But Loki laughs without mirth, O foolish men and fair,
Winds writhe over the starshine resting in my frosted hair.
Spear-of-piercing is the name that twists my sinews and burns
Cold stone was my silent skin, now it flushes, flows, turns:
Loki-the-avenger am I, belching stone; ah, men live far down there,
I shout, I burst out earth, water, deathly fire, burning air.
© Cameron La Follette
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