Which from his nostrils mounts the sky,
And forms a column gleaming bright
Amidst the lurid clouds of night.
The sweetest plant of joy beneath
Lurks oft, alas! the germ of death!
Misfortune soon its power assumes;
And ’midst the liveliest joys and fumes
Of pleasure on the marriage night
Intrudes with livid face, Affright!
True, shouts of joy Valhalla shook;