It was like to that of the Wanderer as I had seen him lying in his oak coffin in the mound, only younger than he had seemed to be in the coffin.

Moreover, he wore the same armour that the man in the coffin wore, and at his side hung the red, cross-handled sword.

There he stood in the temple alone, and looked across a plain, green with crops, on which sat two mighty images as high as tall pines, looked to a great river on whose banks grew trees such as I had never beheld: tall, straight trees, surmounted by a stiff crown of leaves.
Beyond this river lay a white, flat-roofed city, and in it were other great columned temples.
The man in whom I, Olaf the Dane, seemed to dwell in my dream turned, and behind him saw a range of naked hills of brown rock, and in them the mouth of a desolate valley where was no green thing.

Presently he became aware that he was no longer alone.

At his side stood a woman.