Lecture V

> *O Ye!, surround this head with airy circling, > Your paths in noble elfin fashion tracing, > And soften in the heart its harvest grim, > Remove reproach's bitter, glowing arrows, > Within him make all pure from horror's gleam. > > Four in number are the nightly hollows, > Now, friendly, fill them up without a seam. > > First lower head down on the pillow cool, > Bathe it then in dews from Lethe's flood released, > Soon limbs, cramp-stiffened, will again grow supple, > In rest, against the day his strength's increased. > Fulfil most comely duty of the elf, > Return to holy light man's self*.