His fair face cold and hard as winter dawn

and as beautiful in its wrath.

His mail mirror bright, all men fearing

the judging reflection.

His steed of purest silvered mane, a beast

light as cloud, swift as wind.

His arms bright bars of fire given shape in

his holy hands alone.

His the hand that drew the fury of the sun

and stilled the ocean’s rage.

The opening lines of the epic poem

Hammer of the Sun, attributed to

Derrinbad of Keersvast