C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

The Swan

Translation of Eiríkr Magnússon and Edward Henry Palmer

FROM cloud with purple-sprinkled rim,

A swan, in calm delight,

Sank down upon the river’s brim,

And sang in June, one night.

Of Northlands’ beauty was his song,

How glad their skies, their air;

How day forgets, the whole night long,

To go to rest out there;

How shadows there, both rich and deep,

’Neath birch and alder fall;

How gold-beams o’er each inlet sweep,

How cool the billows all;

How fair it is, how passing fair,

To own there one true friend!

How faithfulness is home-bred there,

And thither longs to wend!

When thus from wave to wave his note,

His simple praise-song rang,

Swift fawned he on his fond mate’s throat,

And thus, methought, he sang:—

What more? though of thy life’s short dream

No tales the ages bring,

Yet hast thou loved on Northlands’ stream,

And sung songs there in spring!