"Though Bele's sons may widely sound, 
  From vale to vale, the battle-cry, 
I go not forth; my battle-ground, 
  My world, in Balder's grove doth lie. 
From thence no backward glance I'll cast 
  On kingly spite or earthly care;
But joys of the immortals taste 
  United with my Ingborg fair. 

"As long as glowing sunshine hovers 
  O'er flowers fair in purple light, 
Like rosy-tinted veil that covers 
  The bosom of my Ingborg bright, --
So long I wander by the strand,
  By longing ceaselessly devoured, 
And, sighing, trace upon the sand 
  Her name belovéd, with my sword. 

"How slowly pass the hours away! 
  Why, son of Delling, lingerest thou? 
Hast thou not marked each isle and bay, 
  Each hill and grove, full oft ere now? 
Doth no belov'd one westward dwell 
  Who for thy coming long doth grieve, 
And flieth to thy breast to tell 
  Her love at dawn, her love at eve? 

"But, weary with thy course, at last 
  Thou sinkest downwards from the height; 
Her rosy carpet eve doth haste 
  To spread for all the gods' delight; 
Of love waves whisper as they flee; 
  Winds whisper love in breathing light; 
Mother of gods! I welcome thee, 
  In bridal pearls arrayed, O Night! 

"Each silent star glides through the sky,
  Like lover to his mistress true: 
Over the waves, Ellida, fly; 
  Speed, speed us on, ye billows blue! 
To home of loving gods we steer,
  Where yonder lies the holy grove; 
And Balder's temple standeth near,
  Where dwells the goddess of my love. 

"How happy spring I to the strand! 
  Beloved Earth, I press thee glad!
And you, ye little flowers, that stand 
  My path to gem with white and red. 
Thou Moon, with silvery light that beamest
  Round mound, and grove, and temple tall,
How fair thou sittest there, and dreamest,
  Like Saga in a bridal hall. 

"Who taught thee, flowery brook, to tell 
  In murmur sweet, my love exprest? 
Who gave thee, Northland's nightingale,
  Those wailings, stolen from my breast? 
The fairies paint in sunset hues 
  My Ingeborg on cloud-banks gray; 
A rival beauty Freya views, 
  And, jealous, breathes the form away. 

"Yet may her image now depart,
  Since, fair as Hope, here cometh she; 
Still, as in childhood, true of heart,
  She bringeth love's reward to me. 
Come, darling, to my fond caressing,
  Cling to this heart, where thou art dear; 
My soul's delight, my being's blessing, 
  Come to my arms, and linger there. 

"As slender as the lily slight, 
  As blooming as the opened rose; 
Thou art as pure as Balder bright, 
  Yet warm of heart, as Freya glows. 
Kiss me, my Ingborg; let my love 
  In joy bring kindred joy to thee; 
For earth beneath and heaven above 
  Both vanish when thou kissest me. 

“Fear not -- no danger cometh near; 
  There standeth Björn with trusty blade, 
And men enough, if need there were, 
  To shield us 'gainst the world arrayed. 
And I, oh! could I but contend 
  For thee, as now embracing me,
Glad to Valhalla should I wend,
  And thou shouldst my Valkyria be. 

"Of Balder's wrath what whisperest thou? 
  He, tender god, ne'er loveth ill 
Those fond ones who, with plighted vow, 
  In loving, his decrees fulfil. 
He who true faith in heart doth bear,
  And beaming sunshine on his brow,
Was e'er his love to Nanna dear 
More pure, more warm, than ours is now? 

"There stands his image; he is near; 
  How softly gazing from above! 
And I will offer to him here 
  A heart that glows with faithful love. 
Kneel down with me; there cannot be 
  For Balder fairer sacrifice 
Than faithful hearts, which lovingly 
  Unite in truth as firm as his. 

"To heaven, more than earth, my love 
  Belongs; despise it, spurn it not; 
For it was born in heaven above, 
  And longeth homeward to be brought. 
Oh, would we were already sped! 
  Oh, would we could together die! 
That I triumphantly might lead 
  My pallid Ingborg to the sky. 

"Then, when to strife the warriors went,
  Through silver portals as they ride, 
I'd gaze on thee, a trusty friend, 
  And sit rejoicing by thy side. 
When Valhall's maidens passed around 
  The mead horns, crowned with foam of gold, 
To thee alone my pledge should sound, 
  Thy name alone with love be told. 

"On some fair sea-surrounded isle 
  I'd build for thee a bower of love, 
And there the time away we'd while, 
  Midst golden fruits in shadowy grove. 
And when, with clear and lovely ray, 
  Valhalla's sun illumed the plain, 
Back to the gods we'd take our way, 
  But long to reach our isle again. 

"And I'd adorn with starlight glance 
  The golden tresses of thy head,
And high in Vingolf's hall should dance 
  My pallid lily rosy red. 
Then from the dance my love I'd bring 
  To bowers of peace, in fondness true, 
And Brage, silver-bearded, sing 
  Thy nuptial song, forever new. 

"How sings the throstle in the grove! 
  Its song is from Valhalla's strand; 
How sweetly shines the moon above! 
  It shineth from the spirits' land. 
Both song and shining join to tell 
  Of worlds of love unmarred by care: 
Would in such worlds that I might dwell 
  With thee -- with thee, my Ingborg fair! 

"Nay, weep not -- weep not; life still streams 
  Within my veins: oh! weep no more. 
But mortals' love and mortals' dreams 
  Are ever upward prone to soar. 
Ah! stretch but hitherward thine arms, 
  Bend but thy loving eyes on me,
And see! how soon thy fondness charms 
  Thy dreamer back from heaven to thee."

"Hist! 'tis the lark?" -- "Nay, 'tis a dove, 
  That cooeth fondness in the shade; 
The lark is slumbering 'neath the grove,
  In sheltered nest beside its mate. 
Oh! happy they, for daylight brings 
  To them no cause for dread or fear; 
Their lives are free as are the wings 
  That skyward waft the gladsome pair. 

"See! morning dawns." -- "Nay, 'tis the glow 
  Of watchful beacons eastward shed; 
Our love we still may whisper low, 
  Nor yet the happy night is sped. 
Belate thee, golden star of day! 
  O morning, slumber, slumber still! 
For Frithiof may'st thou sleep away 
  Till Ragnarök, if such thy will. 

"But ah! in vain the loving hope; 
  Already morning's breezes blow, 
Already eastern roses ope, 
  As bright as Ingborg's cheek can glow. 
The band of wingéd songsters twitters, 
  All joyous in the bright'ning sky; 
And earth awakes, and ocean glitters, 
  Away must gloom and lovers fly. 

"Now mounts the sun in majesty: 
  Forgive, O golden god, my prayer; 
I feel thy near divinity: 
  How noble art thou, and how fair! 
Oh! that I so my path could tread, 
  Like thee, in majesty and might; 
And, proud and glad, my life be clad,
  Like thine, in victory and light. 

"Now here, before thine eyes, I set 
  The fairest maiden in the North; 
Watch over her, O Balder great! 
  Thine image she on grassy earth. 
Her soul is spotless as thy ray; 
  Her eye is as thy heaven blue; 
And thy bright gold, that decks the day,
  Glows in her lovely tresses too. 

"Farewell, my Ingeborg! and now 
  Another night we must await. 
Farewell! one kiss upon thy brow, 
  And one upon thy lips so sweet. 
Now sleep and dream of me, and, waking, 
  Still on our love in fond thought dwell; 
Count of the hours, as I do, taking; 
  Loving, as I do. Fare thee well!