FROM THE ICELANDIC. The King has asked of his son so… ‘€œWhy art thou hushed and heavy o… O fair it is to ride abroad. Thou playest not, and thou laughes…

Love is enough: ho ye who seek sav… Go no further; come hither; there… And these know the House of Fulfi… These know the Cup with the roses… These know the World’s Wound and…

Day. I am Day; I bring again Life and glory, Love and pain: Awake, arise! from death to death Through me the World’s tale quick…

TRANSLATED FROM THE DAN… King Hafbur & King Siward They needs must stir up strife, All about the sweetling Signy Who was so fair a wife.

Hear a word, a word in season, for the day is drawing nigh, When the Cause shall call upon us… some to live, and some to die! He that dies shall not die lonely,

Love is enough: though the World… And the woods have no voice but th… Though the sky be too dark for dim… The gold-cups and daisies fair blo… Though the hills be held shadows,…

‘€™Twas in the water-dwindling tid… When July days were done, Sir Rafe of Greenhowes, '€™gan to… In the earliest of the sun. He left the white-walled burg behi…

Our hands have met, our lips have… Our souls - who knows when the win… How light souls drift mid longings… If thou forget’st, can I forget The time that was not long ago?

What part of the dread eternity Are those strange minutes that I… Mazed with the doubt of love and p… When I thy delicate face may see, A little while before farewell?

Love is enough: while ye deemed hi… There were signs of his coming and… His touch it was that would bring… When the summer was deepest and mu… In his footsteps ye followed the d…

Wearily, drearily, Half the day long, Flap the great banners High over the stone; Strangely and eerily

TRANSLATED FROM THE DAN… It was the fair knight Aagen To an isle he went his way, And plighted troth to Else, Who was so fair a may.

Lo from our loitering ship a new l… Toothed rocks down the side of the… And black slope the hillsides abov… And a peak rises up on the west fr… Foursquare from base unto point li…

In Arthur’s house whileome was I When happily the time went by In midmost glory of his days. He held his court then in a place Whereof ye shall not find the name

SIR OZANA. All day long and every day, From Christmas-Eve to Whit-Sunda… Within that Chapel-aisle I lay, And no man came a-near.