No longer need their crutches’ aid, to gain their native home.
The blind too, who had lifted up their eyelids oft in vain,
Found, when they drank the holy wave, the power of sight again:
This caused much marvel; all mankind this silver stream adore;
But it from Gerda’s youth derived its wonder-working power.
She takes out from a case a comb of burnish’d gold so rare,
And with her fingers white divides her glossy raven hair:
She combs her locks; they glisten bright; what pleasure they impart
To love-sick Frey! he felt each spark; they melted in his heart.
She wreath’d a band of twisted hair around her forehead high,