Then Tialfe blush’d, and towards the cot
Ran lustily along the grass:
Him follow’d Roska light of foot
With streaming hair and rosy face.
To view the spot how great their joy,
Where first the breath of life they drew!
Shouts of delight reveal the boy;
Roska shed tears like morning dew.
Close to the cottage-door outspread
A linden-tree its branches wide: