Huddled together, making friends with little hornèd herds.
And far from soundless gorges in the soundless forest deep,
The wild boar humped up closer in the hollow of his heap;
And workers huddled in their huts among the stiffened trees,
The doorstones blue with ice, the eaves with frosty filigrees.
And Horsel’s peak hung ghostly still upon the wintry sky,
But Wartburg’s castle-hall was filled with many a joyous cry,
With hurrying feet and merry fleer of scullion, churl, and maid,
For now within a happy hour the banquet must be laid.
Pert pages in their purfled shoes went twinkling in and out,