And when to reinforce his runes of guile
His eyes shed tears like those of crocodile,
With grief oppress’d her gentle bosom swell’d:
She reach’d to him her hand so lily white,
And spreading wide her feather’d garment light,
Wafted herself and Loptur far away
Towards the dark hard-wood grove, where Thiass expectant lay.
Soaring athwart the azure plains on high,
Radiant was she and glorious to behold,
As in the groves of Ind or Araby