Glorious to behold was Niord the hero,
As he pranced along the meadows gay:
Graceful through the sky his courser’s pinions
Floated like a dream i’ th’ morning grey:
Quick he views, and leaves as quickly,
All he finds, both far and near:
With bright beams
Proudly gleams,
Perch’d upon his helm, the morning star.
Of your aid deprived, O skilful Vaner!