Then you were clothed in marten and sable,
decked with precious jewels
gems and pearls in your golden hair
evil thoughts in your mind.
Now you lie naked, shrivelled and foul
with a skull for a head
blacker far than the oaken stake
that wed you to the bog.
- Queen Gunhild by Steen Steensen Blicher, 1841
"An early spring day - 8 May, 1950. Evening was gathering over Tollund Fen in Bjaeldskov Dal. Momentarily, the sun burst in, bright and yet subdued, through a gate in blue thunder-clouds in the west, bringing everything mysteriously to life. The evening stillness was only broken, now and again, by the grating love-call of the snipe. The dead man, too, deep down in the umber-brown peat, seemed to have come alive. He lay on his damp bed as though asleep, resting on his side, the head inclined a little forward, arms and legs bent. His face wore a gentle expression - the eyes lightly closed, the lips softly pursed, as if in silent prayer. It was as though the dead man’s soul had for a moment returned from another world, though the gate in the western sky.
The dead man who lay there was two thousand years old.”
- P. V. Glob, The Bog People: Iron-Age Man Preserved