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FRITHIOF’S SAGA 107
But given to thee
Our sister, of Odin’s blood, never shall be.
"Let the care of the realm be no trouble to thee,
I can guard it myself, but my serf thou may’st be;
A place there is still
In our household thou mayest be happy to fill."
"Thy serf," exclaimed Frithiof, "I never shall be;
I’m a man for myself, as my father was, free.
From thy silver sheath fly,
Angurvadel, to fright his security."
Bright flashed the blue steel ’gainst the sun-lighted sky,
And the Runes blazed blood-red as he waved it on high:
"Angurvadel," quoth he,
"Thou, at least, art of ancient nobility.
" If the peace of the grave did not pacify me,
Dark King, my good blade would have brought it to thee;
Now hear this last word,
Come never again within reach of my sword."
So spake he, and cleft with a terrible stroke
The gold shield of Helge, which hung on an oak,
In twain at a blow,
And its crash on the grave was reechoed below.
"Well stricken, good sword! now lie quiet, and think
Upon mightier deeds; but at present let sink
Thy Runes’ bright glow;
O’er the blue waves we must homeward go."
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