“This image, by the waves’ reflection made,
This image cannot see,” she blushing said:
“I cannot rest enjoy, until I lave
My arms and bosom in the cooling wave.”
Thus said, her tunic from her breast she threw,
And stood with half her charms exposed to view:
’Twas thus, as poets tell, fair Embla stood,
When bursting from the tree her Askur first she view’d.
Now on her couch she fain would court repose,
But strove in vain to sleep; full oft she rose