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146 FRITHIOF’S SAGA
"Yet longer do I find it sweet
To battle with the breeze,
Thunderstorm and Northman meet,
Exulting on the seas.
For shame might Ingborg blush,
If her osprey flew,
Frightened by a storm-stroke,
Heavy-winged to land."
Now ocean fierce battles,
The wave-troughs deeper grow,
The whistling cordage rattles,
The planks creak loud below.
But though higher waves appearing
Seem like mountains to engage,
Brave Ellida, never fearing,
Mocks the angry ocean’s rage.
Like a meteor, flashing brightness,
Darts she forth, with dauntless breast,
Bounding, with a roebuck’s lightness,
Over trough and over crest.
"Sweeter were the kisses
Of Ingborg, in the grove,
Than here to taste in tempest
High-sprinkled, briny foam.
Better the royal daughter
Of Bele to embrace,
Than here, in anxious labor,
The tiller fast to hold."
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