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Page 19
At last thy footsteps grow uncertain,
Thy weary journey thou must close,
Now evening draws the rosy curtain,
Behind whose folds the gods repose.
The brooks and breezes to each other
In softest whispers love express;
O! welcome Night, of gods the mother,
With pearls upon thy wedding dress.
The stars are gliding like a lover
On tiptoe to a maiden true;
Ellide! fly the deep gulf over,
Roll on, roll on, ye billows blue.
Yon sacred grove a temple hideth,
Good Balder's temple, doubly dear,
For there love's goddess safe abideth,
Unto the gods our course we steer.
Thy shores I tread with joyous measure,
I kiss thy brown cheek, smiling earth,
And all ye little flowers, with treasure
Of white and red, that edge my path.
I hail thee, moon, with pale light streaming
On temple-grove and flowers at rest,
How beautiful thou sittest dreaming
Like Saga at a wedding feast.
To speak with flowers, O, brook, who taught thee
The feeling in my heart a guest?
Ye northern nightingales, where caught ye
The wailing stolen from my breast?
With evening's red the fairies playing,
In clouds my Ing'borg's form disclose,
But Freyja, jealousy displaying.
Away the image quickly blows.
Though changing clouds lose her resemblance,
Like radiant hope herself appears,
As true as childhood's sweet remembrance,
She comes, my love's reward she bears.
Come, loved one, come, and let me press thee
Unto the heart that holds thee dear,
My soul's desire, through life, I'll bless thee,
Come to my arms, and rest thee here.
Frail as the lily's stem so slender,
Yet like spring roses fresh and fair,
As Freyja's troth-plight, warm and tender,
Thou as the will of gods art pure.
Kiss me, and let my burning passion
Kindle thy soul to perfect bliss,
Of earth and heaven I lose the vision,
Enraptured by thy melting kiss.
Fear not, for here can come no stranger,
Without stands Bjorn. his sword in hand,
His champions guarding ns from danger,
If need be, can the world withstand;
And I, if fighting for my treasure,
Whose form I on my bosom bear,
To Valhal now would go with pleasure,
Could'st then be my valkyrie there.
And why fear Balder's fierce resentment,
The pious god to whom we pray?
He looks on us with calm contentment,
For, loving, we his law obey.
The god whose brow with sunshine beameth,
With whom all truth abideth sure,
His love unto his Nanna seemeth
Like mine to thee, so warm, so pure.
There stands his image, not indignant,
But mild and soft as sunset ray,
Upon this shrine of god benignant,
My heart a sacrifice I lay.
Together let us kneel before him,
No better offering can be found
Than two fond hearts which both adore him,
With love like his together bound.
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