Jonas Hallgrimsson

After the Ball

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If mother had known that a foreign land
holds thrills both pleasant and horrid!
--- He hurled the golden ball from his hand
and struck my glowing forehead.

And now I plunge through the woods, my mind
distracted, at sixes and sevens,
seeking my white, my delicate hind ---
stars are aglint in the heavens.

Ye gods! in that shadowy pool ahead ---
the Huntress! a sight to undo me!
Hark! --- a halloo! --- it's finished! --- I'm dead!
The hounds of the nymphs pursue me.

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Jonas Hallgrimsson