I.

Hail to | her whom | Frea | loves, Moina | hail! When first | thine in|fant eyes | beheld The beam | of day, Frea | from Val|halla's | groves Mark'd thy | birth in | silent | joy; Frea, | sweetly | smiling saw The swift-|wing'd mes|senger | of love Bearing | in her | rosy | hand The gold-|tipt horn | of gods.

(This--which is fairly but not wholly free from the fault noted in II.--is ordinary iambic and trochaic mixture.)