I sense, on crystal-star nights
When constellations float about my sight
And shine down through black-branched trees,
A sky so dark that no gazer sees
To which some dread malevolently clings.
No star chart shows this slumbering being,
Its vision from the Clustered Hyades.
Inky waters over which a leaden breeze
Wafts the lament that dead Gullveig sings.
No darker vision greets the far-rider than
That lake, from which the coiling myst-waves pour
To break upon the frozen basaltic shore
Beneath the deep blue beams of Aldebaran
The lake that sends casual dreams fleeing in dread -
Is where Hel rises from her bed.