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FRITHIOF’S SAGA
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, ’t is the glow
Of watchful beacons eastward shed;
Our love we still may whisper low,
Not 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 Ragnarok, 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 winged songsters twitters,
All joyous in the bright’ning sky;
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