The sons of Gyllfe much incline
To bend the knee at beauty’s shrine:
No sooner they the Disa view’d,
As listening at the gate she stood,
They sprang up from their bench; with prayer
They earnestly besieged the fair
To enter in the festive hall,
Where she took seat, admired by all.
Though melancholy was her mien,
She shed new lustre on the scene: