As he slumbers, hark! there singeth from a branch a coal-black bird;
"Hasten, Fridthjof, slay the gray-beard, free your mind by discord stirred;
Take the queen, she's thine by promise; thee the bridal kiss she gave,
Human eyes do not behold thee; deep and silent is the grave."

Fridthjof listens; hark! there singeth from a branch a snow-white bird:
"Though no human eye behold thee, Odin sees and hears each word;
Coward, wilt thou murder slumber? Slay an old defenceless man?
Win what else, the crown of heroes is not won by such a plan."

So sang both the birds, but Fridthjof, snatching up his battle-blade,
Flung it from him with a shudder, far into the gloomy glade.
Black-bird flew away to Nastrand, airily the other one,
Singing, sweetly as a harp-tone, straightway mounted toward the sun.

Suddenly the old man wakens. "Much that sleep was worth to me;
Guarded by a brave man's weapon, sleep is sweet beneath a tree.

Yet I do not see your weapon; where has fled the lightning's twin?
What has parted you who never in your lives have parted been?"

"Little matters it," said Fridthjof, "'tis not hard to find a sword;
Sharp its tongue, O king. and never speaks for peace a single word;
Haunted 'tis by evil spirit, black, from Niflheim it roams,
Sleep is here in danger from it, seeking silver locks it comes."

"I, O youth, have not been sleeping, but to prove you have I tried;
Man or sword a wise man testeth, ere in them he will confide.
You are Fridthjof; since you entered first my hall I've known you well;
Ring, though old, at once detected what his guest would fain conceal.