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Is your mood heavy as his?
Since the day you bereft him
Of country and law and birthright,
Of your own have you felt secure?
Well, then grant him his one demand:
Ingigerd, Trand’s daughter, and her goods,
Also the right to law and country,—
And here shall be peace again.
Trand, you were there on that bloody night,
’Tis yours to atone—now answer!
’Tis Ingigerd’s long and yellow hair
That has stayed my hand till to-day.”
Silence held sway all around him,
Kindled were lights, and illumined
Questioning faces and lowered swords;
Round about was the night.
Arnljot waited, but ne’er a word
Pierced through the silence; he watched….
Thoughts rising and falling in billows
Swept o’er the mind of the folk.
Slowly over that sea of thought
Dawned the blue-gray of the future—
Either the day of appeasement,
Or a flashing of northern lights;
Either she of the yellow hair
And the languishing deep blue eyes,
Or the bearded wild men of the forest,
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