He spoke like Saga, kindly,
Remembering holy things.

And when he there recounted
How Helge goblins sent,
Which first the blue waves mounted,
Then, conquered, downward, went,
The champions cheered him loudly,
And Angantyr the same,--
In high approwd, proudly,
They echoed Fridthjof's name.

But when he spoke in anguish,
Of Ing'borg in her bloom,
How she was left to languish,
Her heart with grief o'ercome,--
Each maiden's cheek was burning,
Each bosom sore distressed;
And to her lover turning,
His faithful hand she pressed.

His embassy to mention
He ventured by and by;
The earl gave pleased attention,
And then he made reply:
"I ne'er was tributary;
King Bele's health, maybe,
To drink was customary,
But from his law we're free.