aisied wood-lawn green,
And good and gay is their raiment, and their spears are sharp and
sheen,
And they crown themselves with the oak-leaves, and sit, both most
and least,
And there on the forest venison and the ancient wine they feast;
Then they wattle the twigs of the thicket to bear their spoil away,
And the toughness of the beech-boughs with the woodbine overlay:
With the voice of their merry labour the hall of the oakwood rings,
For fair they are and joyous as the first God-fashioned Kings.

Now they gather their steeds together, that ere the moon is born
The candles of King Heimir may shine on harp and horn:
But as they stand by the stirrup and hand on rein is laid,
All eyes are turned to beholding the eastward-lying glade,
For thereby comes something glorious, as though an earthly sun
Were lit by the orb departing, lest the day should be wholly done;
Lo now, as they stand astonied, a wonder they behold,
For a warrior cometh riding, and his gear is all of gold;
And grey is the steed and mighty beneath that lord of war,
And a treasure of gold he beareth, and the gems of the ocean's floor:
Now they deem the war-steed wondrous and the treasure strange they
deem,
But so exceeding glorious doth the harnessed rider seem,
That men's hearts are all exalted as he draweth nigh and nigher,
And there are they abiding in fear and great desire:
For they look on the might of his limbs, and his waving locks they see,
And his glad eyes clear as the heavens, and the wreath of the summer
tree
That girdeth the dread of his war-helm, and they wonder at his sword,
And the tinkling rings of his hauberk, and the rings of the ancient
Hoard:
And they say: Are the Gods on the earth? did the world change
yesternight?
Are the sons of Odin coming, and the days of Baldur the bright?

But forth stood Heimir the ancient, and of Gods and men was he chief
Of all who have handled the harp; and he stood betwixt blossom and
leaf,
And thrust his spear in the earth and cast abroad his hands:
"Hail, thou that ridest hither from the North and the desert lands!
Now thy face is turned to our hall-door and thereby must be thy way;
And, unless the time so presseth that thou ridest night and day,
It were good that thou lie in my house, and hearken the clink of the
horn,