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140 FRITHIOF’S SAGA
From Helge not, but from the Northland race,
That is thy sponsor true, thou child of kings.
I have a word for him who shall refuse.
Till then, farewell, be true, remember me;
And take, in memory of our childhood’s love,
My arm-ring here, Valunder’s beauteous work.
With heavenly wonders graven on the gold;
Still worthier wonder is a faithful heart.
How well it clingeth to thy dazzling arm—
A glow-worm glittering on a lily-stem.
Farewell, my bride, my darling, fare thee well;
Bide a few moons, and all our grief is changed.
(He goes.)
ingeborg
How proud, how valiant, and how strong in hope,
The point he setteth of his trusty sword
At Noma’s breast, and crieth—"Thou must yield."
Ah! my poor Frithiof, Noma never yields;
She goes her way, and laughs at Angurvadel.
How little knowest thou my sullen brother!
Thine open valiant soul can never fathom
The gloomy depths of his; nor tell the hate
That burneth fiercely in his envious breast.
His sister’s hand to thee he ’11 never give.
Far sooner will he risk his crown, his life,
And offer me to hoary Odin, or
To aged Ring, with whom he now contends.
Where’er I look, I see no hope for me;
Yet am I glad, it liveth in thine heart.
So I will keep my sorrow for myself;
And, oh! may all the good gods follow thee!
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