With pleading and with hope is laden,
And there, with budding charms, a maiden.

Young Fridthjof followed oft the chase,
Which led to many a fearful place;
With neither spear nor lance defended,
The wild bear's life he quickly ended.

When, struggling, met they breast to breast,
The hunter won, though hardly pressed,
And brought the bearskin home; such prizes,
Think you, a maiden e'er despises?

For woman values courage rare;
The brave alone deserves the fair,
Each one the other's grace completing,
As brow and helmet fitly meeting.

And when in winter evenings long,
By firelight reading, in a song,
Of fair abodes in radiant heaven

To every god and goddess given,

He thought: "Of gold is Ing'borg's hair,
A net for rose and lily fair:
Like Freyja's bounteous golden tresses,
A wheat-field which the breeze caresses.

Fair Idun's beauteous bosom beats