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FRITHIOF’S SAGA 107
But all too soon sweet childhood flew,
And Frithiof to manhood grew;
While to the maid matured, his eye .
Beamed full of love’s intensity.
Young Frithiof often in the field
Pursued the chase, ’gainst danger steel’d;
Proud without either sword or spear,
Unarmed, to slay the grisly bear.
He wrestled with him breast to breast,
Nor scatheless of his prize possessed,
He carried home the shaggy spoil,
While Ingborg’s smiles repaid his toil.
For woman loves a manly deed,
And beauty’s praise is valor’s meed;
The one is suited for the other,
As head and helmet matched together.
Then, as the winter evenings sped,
Beside the hearth he sat, and read
Some lay of Odin’s halls of light—
Of gods and goddesses so bright.
Then thought he: "Freya’s golden hair,
Like a ripe corn-field, waves in air;
But Ingborg’s tresses seem to hold
Lily and rose in net of gold.
"Iduna’s bosom, full and fair,
Beats beneath silk, rich, green, and rare;
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