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