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FRITHIOF’S SAGA 107
Still as she wove it, more and more
The hero Frithiofs likeness bore;
When from the frame she raised her head,
She blushed with shame, but still was glad.
And Frithiof cut, on birch-tree’s stem,
An I, an F, where’er he came;
And merrily the letters, too,
Like their young hearts, together grew.
When riseth up the morning fair,
The king of earth, with golden hair,
And busy life begins to move,
Each on the other thinks with love.
When night with darkness fills the air,
Mother of earth, with raven hair,
And silent stars are all that move,
Each on the other dreams with love.
"O Earth, thou deck’st thyself each year
With flowers in thy leaf-green hair;
Give me the sweetest, that may shine
In richest wreath for Frithiof mine!"
"O Sea, thy gloomy halls possess
Bright pearls in thousands numberless;
Give me the fairest and most clear
To weave a chain for Ingborg dear!"
" O Peak of Odin’s royal throne,
Eye of the world, thou golden Sun,
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