Fridthjof.

High rides the sun and time is fleeting by.

Ingeborg.

Ah, me, it has gone by, gone by forever!

Fridthjof.

Consider well. Is that thy last resolve?

Ingeborg.

I have considered well; it is my last.

Frydthjof.

Farewell then, fare thee well, king Helge's sister.

Ingeborg.

Oh, Fridthjof! Fridthjof! must we separate thus?
Hast thou indeed no friendly glance to give
Thy childhood's friend; no kindly hand to reach
To the unfortunate, once so beloved?
Think'st thou I stand on roses here, and turn
Away with smiles my happiness for life?
And that I pangless tear from out my breast