Hatred found its way among them. They each bore twelve sons and twelve daughters--at every Juul-time a couple. Thence come all mankind. Lyda was black, with hair curled like a lamb's; her eyes shone like stars, and shot out glances like those of a bird of prey. Lyda was acute. She could hear a snake glide, and could smell a fish in the water. Lyda was strong and nimble. She could bend a large tree, yet when she walked she did not bruise a flower-stalk. Lyda was violent. Her voice was loud, and when she screamed in anger every creature quailed. Wonderful Lyda! She had no regard for laws; her actions were governed by her passions. To help the weak she would kill the strong, and when she had done it she would weep by their bodies. Poor Lyda! She turned grey by her mad behaviour, and at last she died heart-broken by the wickedness of her children. Foolish children! They accused each other of their mother's death. They howled and fought like wolves, and while they did this the birds devoured the corpse. Who can refrain from tears at such a recital? Finda was yellow, and her hair was like the mane of a horse. She could not bend a tree, but where Lyda killed one lion she killed ten. Finda was seductive. Her voice was sweeter than any bird's. Her eyes were alluring and enticing, but whoever looked upon them became her slave. Finda was unreasonable. She wrote thousands of laws, but she never obeyed one. She despised the frankness of the good, and gave herself up to flatterers. That was her misfortune. Her head was too full, but her heart was too vain. She loved nobody but herself, and she wished that all should love her. False Finda! Honey-sweet were her words, but those who trusted them found sorrow at hand. Selfish Finda! She wished to rule everybody, and her sons were like her. They made their sisters serve them, and they slew each other for the mastery. Treacherous Finda! One wrong word would irritate her, and the cruellest deeds did not affect her. If she saw a lizard swallow a spider, she shuddered; but if she saw her children kill a Frisian, her bosom swelled with pleasure. Unfortunate Finda! She died in the bloom of her age, and the mode of her death is unknown. Hypocritical children! Her corpse was buried under a costly stone, pompous inscriptions were written on it, and loud lamentations were heard at it, but in private not a tear was shed. Despicable people! The laws that Finda established were written on golden tables, but the object for which they were made was never attained. The good laws were abolished, and selfishness instituted bad ones in their place. O Finda! then the earth overflowed with blood, and your children were mown down like grass. Yes, Finda! those were the fruits of your vanity. Look down from your watch-star and weep. Frya was white like the snow at sunrise, and the blue of her eyes vied with the rainbow.