What marble seem’d, now moved with high pulsation;
She gazed on Mimer; and he thought, a smile
Play’d on her mouth; it gave him consolation.
Urda’s fount ceased to rustle through the dell;
From Skulda’s lips resounds this solemn strain:
“When bravery shall fickle time compel
To constancy, and fast the recreant chain,
Upon the wings of love health shall fly home again.”
She spoke. In sable clouds Night veils her brow;
And sooth’d with hope, Earth’s bosom gently heaves: