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j FRITHIOF’S SAGA
121
But close by every wall there stood
A stove of marble fair.
No smoke within the chamber stay’d;
The walls no dampness bore;
Frames filled with glass the windows had,
And a lock was on the door.
All filled with light, the branches fair
Spread out their silver boughs;
No more the crackling pine-torch glare
Illumined the carouse.
Cooked whole, a stag, with larded breast,
Adorned the table round;
Its horns leaf-decked, its gilt hoof raised,
As if about to bound.
There stood a damsel, lily-fair,
To each rough comrade nigh;
As beameth forth a glittering star
Throughout a stormy sky.
Their tresses brown luxuriant flowed;
Bright shone their eyes of blue;
Their little lips like roses glowed,
Grown ripe in summer’s dew.
High sate upon his silver throne
The Yarl, in splendor bold;
Bright as the sun his helmet shone,
His breastplate blazed with gold;
With stars embroider’d, bright did gleam
His mantle, rich and fine;
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