Let me not waste the long winter reposing
Here among rocks on this desolate strand.
Let me once more keep the Yule banquet olden,
Guest of king Ring and the bride of my choice;
Let me once more see those waving locks golden,
Hear the sweet tones of that well-beloved voice.

BJORN.

Good! to king Ring it shall be my glad duty,
Something to teach of a wronged viking's power;
Fire we the palace at midnight's still hour,
Scorch the old graybeard and bear off the beauty.
Or, being viking you may think it right
Honor to grant the old man by a duel:
Challenge him out on the ice for a fight,--
Whatever you will, only waiting is cruel.

FRIDTHJOF.

Speak not of firebrands, to war give no thought,--
Peace would I bear to the king, and not terror;
Ring nor his partner committed the error--
Heavenly vengeance my punishment sought,
Little of hope is now left worth the telling,
Only farewell would I take of my dear,--
Final farewell. When the green buds are swelling,
Sooner it may be, you'll see Fridthjof here.

BJORN.