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BERGLIOT
Death has no allies -
Like Einar’s arrows!
And thou, Saint Olaf,
Oh, for thy son’s sake!
Help him with good words
In Gimle’s high hall!
( Nearer )
Our foes are the stronger...
They fight now no longer...
Subduing,
Pursuing,
They press to the river,—
What is it that’s done?
What makes me thus quiver?
Will fortune us shun?
What stillness astounding!
The peasants are staying,
Their lances now grounding,
Two dead men surrounding,
Nor Harald delaying!
What throngs now enwall
The ting-hall’s high door! ..,
Silent they all
Let me pass o’er ! —
Where is Eindride!—
Glances of pity
gi
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