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150 FRITHIOF’S SAGA
Forth a stream of blood hath bounded,
Spouting upwards to the sky,
Diving down, the brute, deep-wounded,
Sinketh, bellowing, to die.
Together now two darts are cast,
Flung by Frithiofs arm so fierce:
Through the ice-bear one hath passed,
One the storm-bird’s breast doth pierce.
"Well stricken, brave Ellida:
Not soon again, I wager,
Shall Helge’s magic vessel
Rise on the gory wave.
Heyd and Ham no longer
Now bewitch the ocean;
Full bitter is the biting
Of the purple steel."
At once the storm-wind, leaving
The ocean calm and clear,
Still wafteth on its heaving
The ship to islands near.
And, all at once, the sun appearing,
Like a monarch in his hall,
New life and new delights seems bearing
To ship and wave, to hill and vale;
His silent radiance crowneth high
The lofty cliff, the forest’s bound:
And all rejoicingly descry
The grassy shores of Efjesund.
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