And deftly loosed a little golden pin;
The heavy lid swung open and, within,
To Christine's eyes revealed the golden helm.
Then spake Queen Hild, once more: "Your love-gift see!
Think you that any smith in all the realm
Can beat dull metal to so fair a casque?
In jewelled caverns of enchantment old
This helm was wrought of magic-tempered gold
To yieldless strength, by elfin-hammers chased,
That toiled unwearied at their age-long task,