How beautiful they are, the lordly ones
Who dwell in the hills, in the hollow hills.
They have faces like flow’rs
And their breath is a wind
That blows over summer meadows
Filled with dewy clover.
Their limbs are more white than shafts of moonshine,
They are more fleet than the March wind,
They laugh and are glad and are terrible
When their lances shake and glitter
Ev’ry green reed quivers.
How beautiful they are,
How beautiful,
The lordly ones in the hollow hills.