Wrapp’d in her garment to the neck, she flew
Once more the image beautiful to view:
The form divine of the enchanting god
Melted the maiden’s heart, and fired her blood:
What majesty displays his forehead high!
What tender mournful smiles beam from his eye
Of fire! his bosom seems t’exhale a sigh:
’Twas meant for Gerda; from his polish’d brow
Adown his ivory neck the golden tresses flow:
With hand placed on his heart he seems to say;