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FRITHIOF’S SAGA 107
But ah! to their woe,
From his mate could no more be persuaded to go.
But Bjorn this mourning could not bear,—
He cried—" What makes our young eagle here
So sad and moody?
Hath his breast been struck, are his pinions bloody ?
"What will’st thou? For here we can fear no need
Of noble food, or of nut-brown mead ?
And the Skalds’ long train
Cease not the joyous, tuneful strain.
" His pawing coursers impatient neigh;
His falcon wildly screams for prey.
In the clouds alone
Will Frithiof chase, by sorrowing o’erthrown.
"Ellida hath no rest upon the wave,
Early and late at anchor doth she chafe.
Ellida, be thou still;
For strife and warfare is not Frithiof’s will."
At last sets Frithiof his dragon free;
The sails swell high, the waves cleaves she;
And speedily brings
Him over the sea to the court of the Kings.
That day were they sitting on Bele’s grave,
And judgment before all the people they gave;
Loud Frithiof cried,—
Round hill and vale his voice echoed wide.
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