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XXIII
THE DEATH OF KING RING
With golden mane gleaming,
Skinfaxe more nobly
Draweth the sun from the waves than before;
Morning’s bright beaming
Illumineth doubly
The hall of the monarch; then opens the door.
Gloomy and grieving
Frithiof seeketh
The King; pale he sitteth; fair Ingeborg’s breast
Like ocean is heaving;
The stranger he speaketh
Words of departure, in trembling expressed:
"The blue billows chafe
My swift-winged steed,
My sea-courser longeth to bound from the strand;
He doth pine for the wave,
So forth I must speed,
Forth from dear friends, and away from the land.
"This ring take, thine own again,
Ingborg; there liveth
Holy remembrance within it for thee;
Give it to none again;
Frithiof forgiveth,
But now never more on earth seest thou me.
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