Nor 'gainst me enrol it:
But the arm-ring which you wear,
Yonder craven stole it.

"Not for thee did Volund old
Work its fair dimensions;
The maiden wept, but the thief was bold;
Away, such false pretensions."


Bravely drew he; together fast
Arm and ring seemed growing;
Angered Balder, when loosed at last,
Fell 'mid the embers glowing.

Hark! each flame, as it leaps on high,
A golden tooth resembles;
Bjorn, all pale, stands the doorway nigh,
Fridthjof, anxious, trembles.

"Open, Bjorn, let the people go,
Bv watchmen unimpeded;
The temple burns; throw water, throw
The ocean full, if needed."

Now a chain is knit to the strand,
Not a link is missing;
Flies the billow from hand to hand
Against the fire-brands hissing.