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154 FRITHIOF’S SAGA
Then, as a friend, I ’11 go with thee
To noble Angantyr."
w My journey’s toil hath left me weak,"
Quoth Frithiof, fury-stirred;
"Yet, ere a craven peace I seek,
I ’11 prove thy mighty sword."
Flashes the steel with lightnings, flung
From nervous, sunburnt hand;
Each Rune on Angurvadel’s tongue
In burning flame doth stand.
The clashing weapons, showering, strike
A hail of death-strokes round;
The shattered shields of both alike
Fall shivering to the ground.
Their comrades brave stand firm and fast,
And none his place forsakes;
Keen Angurvadel bites at last;
The blade of Atle breaks.
"’Gainst swordless man," bold Frithiof cried,
"My sword I never use;
But let us try another fight,
If other fight thou choose."
Like floods, in autumn meeting,
Each rusheth on his foe;
Breastplate on breastplate beating,
As they wrestle for the throw.
They wrestle like an angry pair
Of bears upon the snow;
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