Damascene

The wicked great wyrm, the wily death-dealer,

Lay hidden and haughty, in horded gold gleaming.

There came the pauper prince, to prize loose a treasure.

Full-handed, fool-hearted, in his fear never seeing:

That ruby is an eye, that ivory a claw.
That damascene, the dragon.

A stab at writing something in alliterative verse. I haven't been as strict about scheme and meter as the original Norse/Germanic (especially the last two lines), but I like the sound of it. So there.