How joyful 'twas, how lovely too,
When firs[ he learned his futhorc through;
No kings had e'er such honor brought them
As when to Ingeborg he taught them.

How joyously his boat would glide
With those two o'er the dark blue tide:
While he the driving sail was veering,
Her small white hands gave hearty cheering.

No bird's nest found so high a spot,
That he for her could find it not;
The eagle's nest from clouds he sundered,
And eggs and young he deftly plundered.

However swift, there ran no brook,
But o'er it Ingeborg he took;
How sweet when roaring torrents frighten,
To feel her soft arms round him tighten.

The first; spring flowers by sunshine fed,
The earliest berries turning red,
The first of autumn's golden treasure,
He proffered her with eager pleasure.

********************

But quickly sped are childhood's days,--
There stands a youth whose ardent gaze