| ||
Home | Site Index | Heithinn Idea Contest | | ||
Viking Tales of the North Fridthjof's Saga
Page 1
Now say we, ocean quitting, II.
Outside the window chances Old Halvar watch to be; Right earnest were his glances The mead, too, guarded he: One custom missd he never To scan the bottom oer, And then, in silence, ever The horn thrust in for more. III. Now far i th hall, loud rattling, His empty horn he threw, And cried: Gainst storm-waves battling A ship at hand I view; On board half-dead they tarry, Now come they to the land, And two tall giants carry The pale ones to the strand. IV. The jarls keen gazings wander Where bright waves mirroring flow: Ellides sail is yonder, And Fridthjofs there, I trow; His gait and brow discover Again old Thorsteins son, Search all the Northland over, Yell neer find such a one! V. Then berserk Atle springeth, Fierce-grinning, from his place (Bood-staind, his black beard flingeth Brute grimness oer his face), And screams, Ill prove the saying That Fridthjof, all his days, Unnerves the sword from slaying, Nor eer for quarter prays. VI. And up with him all eager His twelve dread champions spring; Impatient th air they dagger And sword and bill-axe swing. Then coastward stormd they, heated, To where the dragon lay, And Fridthjof, careless seated, Full stoutly talkd away. VII. Right well I now could kill thee, With shouts gan Atle cry; Thou yet mayst either will thee To battle here or fly: But if for peace thou prayest, Though champion hard and bold, Through me the jarl thou mayest In friendly guise behold! VIII. Said Fridthjof: With my voyage Im spent, tis true, yet may Our falchions prove our courage Ere peace from thee I pray! Then steel full soon did lighten In sun-brown champion hand, And quick its flame-runes brighten On Fridthjofs sharp-tongud brand. IX. Fast now are sword-thrusts given, And death-blows hail around; At once fly both shields, riven In halves, upon the ground. Their fights uncensurable, They firm their circle tread, But keen bit Angervail And straight broke Atles blade. X. My sword, said Fridthjof, never Gainst swordless man I wave; But an thou will, however, A diffrent sport well have. Then storm they, nothing yielded, Two autumn billows like! And oft, with steel round shielded, Their jarring breasts fierce strike. << Previous Page Next Page >>
© 2004-2007 Northvegr. Most of the material on this site is in the public domain. However, many people have worked very hard to bring these texts to you so if you do use the work, we would appreciate it if you could give credit to both the Northvegr site and to the individuals who worked to bring you these texts. A small number of texts are copyrighted and cannot be used without the author's permission. Any text that is copyrighted will have a clear notation of such on the main index page for that text. Inquiries can be sent to info@northvegr.org. Northvegr™ and the Northvegr symbol are trademarks and service marks of the Northvegr Foundation. |
|