- Project Runeberg -  Poems by Tegnér: The children of the Lord's supper and Frithiof's saga /
188

(1914) Author: Esaias Tegnér Translator: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, William Lewery Blackley
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224

FRITHIOF’S SAGA

Twelve temple-maidens fair, in silver raiment clad,
With roses blooming on their cheeks, and roses, too,
Within their guileless hearts: before the image dread
They danced around the altar newly consecrate,
As spring-time’s breezes dance above the rivulets,
As forest elves dance lightly o’er the tall-grown grass,
While still the morning dew lies glittering around.
And midst their dancing sang they, too, an holy song,
Of Balder, the all-pious; how beloved was he
Of all creation: how by Hoder’s dart he fell;
How earth, and sea, and sky lamented;—such a song
It seemed as ne’er from out a mortal bosom sprung,
But like a tone from Breidablick, the Bright One’s hall;
Like dream of loved one which a lonely maiden dreams,
When in the peace of silent night deep pipes the quail,
And moonlight beameth o’er the birch-woods of the
North.—

Delighted Frithiof, leaning on his sword, beheld
The dance; and many a scene of childhood’s gladness
sped

Before his sense, a merry race and innocent.
With eyes of heavenly blue, and lovely heads, adorned
With curling locks of floating gold, they nodded forth
A loving greeting to the comrade of their youth.
Then like a bloody shadow sank his Viking’s life,
With all its battles fierce, its past adventures wild,
Down into darkness, and unto himself he seemed
To stand, a flower-decked Bauta-stone, upon its grave.
And ever as the song swelled high, his spirit rose
From lowly vales of earth on high to Valaskjalf;
And earthly rage and earthly hate were melted down,
As Winter’s icy mail from breast of Earth dissolves,

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