[*The name of the Scandinavian god of fire.]

Is this thy neck, that curve of moonlight
Which Helva's hand caressed?
"No misty breathing strains thy nostril;
Thine eye shines blue and cold;
Yet mounting up our airy pathway
I see thy hoofs of gold.
Not lighter o'er the springing rainbow
Walhalla's gods repair
Than we in sweeping journey over
The bending bridge of air.

"Far, far around star-gleams are sparkling
Amid the twilight space;
And Earth, that lay so cold and darkling,
Has veiled her dusky face.
Are those the Normes that beckon onward
As if to Odin's board,
Where by the hands of warriors nightly
The sparkling mead is poured?

"'T is Skuld:* I her star-eye speaks the glory
That wraps the mighty soul,
When on its hinge of music opens
The gateway of the pole;
When Odin's warder leads the hero
To banquets never o'er,
And Freya's** glances fill the bosom
With sweetness evermore.