Between the sand runs not the muddy stream
So long, till purified it shows a gleam
Like that of diamond? in its surface bright
The maidens then to view their forms delight.
From mould impure sweet flowers their birth derive,
Yet lift their heads in air, and fragrant thrive.
Now let the rose of love thy front entwine,
And with earth’s brightest jewel heaven combine!”
Now Gerda thus replied in soften’d tone:
“Thy speech is courteous and discreet, I own: