Tenderly lies Atta Troll
In the cavern, by his young ones.
O’er him creep, like death’s forebodings,
Mournful yearnings for the future.
“Children,” sigh’d he, as his great eyes
“Suddenly ’gan dripping, “children,
“All my earthly pilgrimage
“Is accomplish’d, we must part now.
“For to-day at noon whilst sleeping
“Came a vision full of meaning,
“And my soul enjoy’d the blissful
“Foretaste of an early death.
“Now, I’m far from superstitious,
“I’m no giddy bear,—yet are there
“Certain things ’twixt earth and heaven
“Unaccountable to thinkers.
“Over world and fate whilst poring,
“Fell I fast asleep, with yawning,
“And I dreamt that I was lying
“Underneath a mighty tree.
“From the branches of this tree there
“Trickled down some whitish honey,
“Gliding in my open muzzle,
“And I felt a sweet enjoyment.
“As I blissfully peer’d upwards,
“Saw I on the very tree-top
“Seven tiny little bears
“Sliding up and down the branches.
“Tender, pretty little creatures,
“With a skin of rose-red colour,
“While, like silk, from their dear shoulders
“Hung a something, like two pinions.
“Yes, those rose-red little bears
“Were adorn’d with silken pinions,
“And with sweet celestial voices,
“Sounding like a flute’s notes, sang they!