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j FRITHIOF’S SAGA
119
Like eagles, struggling high in air,
Above the ocean’s flow.
Have tottered from their ancient place
Full many a massive rock,
And many an oak, of sturdy race,
At far a slighter shock.
From heavy brows the sweat drops down,
Their breath comes cold and hard;
They scatter far each shrub and stone
Around them on the sward.
To see the end in fear delays
Each troop upon the strand;
Wide was that fight, in ancient days,
Renown’d throughout the land.
But Frithiof felled his foe at last,
And bore him to the earth,
And knelt upon his heaving breast,
And spoke in tones of wrath: —
"Oh! had I but my broadsword true,
Black-bearded Berserk, I
Should drive its point triumphant through
Your entrails, as you lie."
"Be that but little cause for care,"
Was Atle’s firm reply;
"Go fetch thy mighty weapon there,
And no escape I ’11 try;
We both must pass from earth away,
Valhalla’s joys to see;
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