Choke up the passage to the silent dell,
To all impervious, but the Asar dread:
Berries and flowers the sacred fount conceal;
Pine forests thick around each eye profane repel.
But every growth was blighted! and behold
On the stream’s brink the Norna Skulda sat,
With finger on her lips, and aspect cold,
The awful guardian of the book of fate:
Omniscient queen, whose mind can fathom all
That to Alfader’s self remains unknown.