Unto the waiting hall fled, fearfully.
Wearied at last, upon her bed Queen Hild
In fitful slumber sank; but evil dreams
Of battle-stricken lands and blood-red streams
Swirled through her brain. Then, suddenly, she woke,
Wide-eyed, and sat upright, with body chilled,
Though in her throat the hot air seemed to choke.
Swiftly she rose; then, binding her loosed hair,
She bathed her throbbing brows, and, cold and calm,
Downstairs she glided, while the evening-psalm