doth awaken thee. Give me out of the tombe, the hardned[9] sword, which
the dwarfs made for Suafurlama. Hervardur, Hiorvardur, Hrani, and
Angantyr, with helmet, and coat of mail, and a sharp sword, with sheild
and accoutrements, and bloody spear, I wake you all, under the roots of
trees. Are the sons of Andgrym, who delighted in mischief, now become
dust and ashes, can none of Eyvors sons now speak with me out of the
habitations of the dead! Harvardur, Hiorvardur! so may you all be within
your ribs, as a thing that is hanged up to putrifie among insects,
unlesse you deliver me the sword which the dwarfs made ... and the
glorious belt.

_Angantyr_.--Daughter Hervor, full of spells to raise the dead, why
dost thou call so? wilt thou run on to thy own mischief? thou art mad,
and out of thy senses, who art desperatly resolved to waken dead men. I
was not buried either by father or other freinds. Two which lived after
me got Tirfing, one of whome is now possessor thereof.

_Hervor_.--Thou dost not tell the truth: so let Odin hide thee in the
tombe, as thou hast Tirfing by thee. Art thou unwilling, Angantyr, to
give an inheritance to thy only child?...

_Angantyr_.--Fals woman, thou dost not understand, that thou speakest
foolishly of that, in which thou dost rejoice, for Tirfing shall, if
thou wilt beleive me, maid, destroy all thy offspring.

_Hervor_.--I must go to my seamen, here I have no mind to stay longer.
Little do I care, O Royall friend, what my sons hereafter quarrell
about.

_Angantyr_.--Take and keep Hialmars bane, which thou shalt long have and