Once in the heavens there glitter’d, Join’d in fond union, Luna the goddess and Sol the god, And around them the stars all cluster’d, Their little, innocent children. But evil tongues then whisper’d disunion, And they parted in anger, That glorious, radiant pair. Now, in the daytime, in splendour all lonely, Wanders the Sun-god in realms on high,-- On account of his majesty Greatly sung-to and worshipp’d By haughty, bliss-harden’d mortals. But in the night-time, In heaven wanders Luna, Unhappy mother, With all her orphan’d starry children, And she gleams in silent sorrow, And loving maidens and gentle poets Devote to her tears and songs. The gentle Luna! womanly minded, Still doth she love her beautiful spouse. Towards the evening, trembling and pale, Peeps she forth from the light clouds around, And looks at the parting one mournfully, And fain would cry in her anguish: “Come! Come! the children all long for thee--” But the disdainful Sun-god, At the sight of his spouse, ’gins glowing With still deeper purple, In anger and grief, And inflexibly hastens he Down to his flood-chilly widow’d bed. * * * * * Evil and backbiting tongues Thus brought grief and destruction E’en ’mongst the godheads immortal. And the poor godheads, yonder in heaven, Wander in misery, Comfortless over their endless tracks, And death cannot reach them, And with them they trail Their bright desolation. But I, the mere man, The lowly-planted, the blest-with-death one, I sorrow no longer. 3. THE NIGHT ON THE STRAND. Starless and cold is the night, The ocean boils; And over the sea, flat on its belly, Lies the misshapen Northwind; With groaning and stifled mysterious voice, A sullen grumbler, good-humour’d for once, Prates he away to the waves, Telling many a wild tradition, Giant-legends, murderous-humorous, Primeval Sagas from Norway, And the while, far echoing, laughs he and howls he Exorcists’ songs of the Edda, Grey old Runic proverbs, So darkly-daring, and magic-forcible, That the white sons of Ocean Spring up on high, all exulting, In madden’d excitement. Meanwhile, along the flat shore, Over the flood-moisten’d sand, Paces a stranger, whose heart within him Is wilder far than wind and waters; There where he walks Sparks fly out, and shells are crackling, And he veils himself in his dark-grey mantle, And quickly moves on through the blustering night;-- Guided in safety by yon little light, That sweetly, invitingly glimmers, From the lone fisherman’s cottage.