With freshest rose-leaves fill’d, the bed
Was wrought of massive golden ore;
But though so heavily it weigh’d,
With ease he raised it from the floor;
Then to his castle, Trudvang hight,
Triumphant bore it through the air;
So noiseless was the Asa’s flight,
He naught disturb’d the sleeping fair.
The goddess bright with roses crown’d
Awoke at midnight’s solemn hour,