Where the frost-trees bourgeon with leaf and spray,
And frost-gems scatter a silvery day.
“ ‘And oh that those glorious haunts were mine!’
He speaks, and throughout the glen
Their shadows swim in the faint moonshine,
And take a ghastly likeness of men,
As if the slain by the wintry storms
Came forth to the air in their earthly forms.
“There pass the chasers of seal and whale,
With their weapons quaint and grim,