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178 FRITHIOF’S SAGA
My father’s grave
Stands still and safe;
Calm waters mirror
His grass-green pillow.
Blue shall mine be,
In the foaming sea;
Sturdily floating,
Midst tempests shouting,
Till I sink to sleep
In the boundless deep.
My life art thou, ocean,
My home, my possession:
And shalt be my grave,
Free flowing wave."
So spake he madly,
As piloting sadly
His vessel, he bore
Forth from the shore;
And coasted slowly
The headlands holy,
Which still stand forth,
Guarding the North.
But vengeance waketh:
With ten ships seeketh
King Helge wight
To check his flight.
Then shouted they all,
"Now Helge will fall:
He offereth strife,
Nor careth for life
Here ’neath the moon.
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