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j FRITHIOF’S SAGA
179
Assembled round, with warlike cry,
In proof arrayed,
Their weapons clash; the heaven high
Their tent is made.
And Frithiof stands upon the judging-stone,
And with him there
A little child, the late King’s only son,
With golden hair.
There passed a murmur through the people far:
"Too young is he
To judge our wrongs, and of our hosts in war
The chief to be."
Up on his shield set Frithiof bold
The child, and cried—
"Here, Northmen, stands your King! Behold
The Northland’s pride.
"See how, with Odin’s likeness filled,
And fair as he,
He standeth bold, on slippery shield,
As fish in sea.
"With sword and steel will I defend
His realm’s renown,
And round the child’s young brow will bend
The father’s crown.
" Forsete, son of Balder bright,
Record my vow,
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