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122
FRITHIOF’S SAGA
And every purple-glowing seam
Did spotless ermine line.
Forth from the board three paces
He goes to meet his guest;
He takes his hand, and places
Him at his side to rest: —
"Since here full many a creaming horn
With Thorsten emptied we,
His son, whose fame so far is borne,
Shall not sit far from me."
The great Angantyr fills the cup
With wine of Sicily,
Like flashing flame it sparkles up
All foaming, like the sea.
"Right welcome be thou to my hall
In ancient friendship’s name;
The mighty Thorsten’s skal we all
Shall drink with loud acclaim."
A hoary bard, from Morven’s heights,
Accords the tuneful lyre,
And loud, in glowing tones, recites
A hero-song of fire;
But in the old Norrana tongue,
The speech of ancient days,
The hero Thorsten’s fame was sung,
And all the song did praise.
Then much to hear the Yarl did crave,
Of his kindred in the North;
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