Nor longer tarried;
"King Graybeard his honor'll avenge one day,"
Is Ring heard to say,
When to him the curt message is carried.

He strikes his bright shield hanging high on a bough,--
His weapon seizes;
And many a dragon is hurrying now,
With blood-red prow,
And helmet plumes wave in the breezes.

The tidings flew swiftly to Helge king,
Who answered slowly:
"The strife will be bloody, for mighty is Ring;
My sister bring
To the temple of Balder, the holy."

There sitteth the loving one, full of woes,
Though safe abiding:
She weeps, while with silk and with god she sews
A tear overflows,--
The dew 'mid the lilies is hiding.



VI.

Fridthjof Plays Chess