But go, like a hero, to Odin and Thor."

He cut himself thrice, with his keen-cutting glaive,
And went to Valhalla, {2} the way of the brave.

The knight bade his daughter come into the room:
"Look here, my sweet child, on thy merry bridegroom."

She look'd on the body, and gave a wild start;
"O father, why hadst thou so cruel a heart?"

She moan'd and lamented, she rav'd and she curst;
She look'd on her love, till her very eyes burst.

At midnight, Sir Erik was standing there mute,
With two pallid corses beside his cold foot:

He stood stiff and still; and when morning-light came,
He stood, like a post, without life in his frame.

The youth and the maid were together interr'd,
Sir Erik could not from his posture be stirr'd:

He stood there, as stiffly, for thirty long days,
And look'd on the earth with a petrified gaze.

'T is said, on the night of the thirtieth long day,
To dust and to ashes he moulder'd away.