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FRITHIOF’S SAGA 79
I
FRITHIOF AND INGEBORG
IN Hilding’s home together grew
Two plants beneath his fostering true;
Two fairer never graced the North,
In youth’s green springtime budding forth.
Strong as the oak, and towering high,
Straight as a tall lance towards the sky,
Its struggling, wind-tost summit blown,
Like helmet-plumes, so grew the one.
The other, like the fragile rose,
When Winter, parting, melts the snows,
And Spring’s sweet breath bids flowers arise,
Still in the bud unconscious lies.
When o’er the earth the storms speed hoarse,
The oak is seen to brave their force;
When in the sky the spring-sun glows,
Open the red lips of the rose.
So grew they glad in childhood free,
And Frithiof was the sapling tree;
And the sweet valley-rose was there
In Ingeborg, the young and fair.
Saw’st thou the twain by light of day,
In Freya’s halls thou’dst seem to stray,
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