Illumed the champions' feast,
But waxen candles, sparkling,
In silver sconces placed.
A roasted stag, well larded,
The table's center graced;
Gold bands his raised hoof guarded,
With flowers his horns were dressed.

Beside each champion sitting,
A youthful maiden stood,--
An evening star, bright flitting,
Behind a stormy cloud
The blue eyes beamed, in showers
The gold-brown tresses flowed,
Complete as sculptured flowers
The little rose-lips glowed.

On silver stool, high mounted,
Sat Angantyr, the old;
His helm shot rays uncounted,
His corselet was of gold.
His mantle, rich and splendid,
With golden stars was strewn,--
And where the purple ended,
The spotless ermine shone,

Three steps the earl descended
To Fridthjof genially
He said, with hand extended:
"Come higher, sit by me.