II.

Long did I view
Westward his sail on the wave as it flew;
Sail, ah, how bless’d! that abideth
Still where he rideth.


III.

Swell not so high,
Billow of blue; fast enough he sweeps by.
Guide him, ye stars! In his danger
Shine on the stranger.


IV.

When, in the spring,
Homeward he hastens, no Ing’borg will bring
Welcomes i’ th’ valley to meet him,
Hall-words to greet him.


V.

Deep under ground,
Pallid and cold for her love she is found!
Or, a sad victim, her brothers
give her to others.

VI.

Mine shalt thou be,
Hawk he forgot; yes, I’ll love as did he;
Ing’borg will feed thee, through endless
Skies hunting friendless.


VII.

Here, on his hand,
Work I thy form on the cloth’s broad band:
Pinions of silver and glowing
Gold-talons sewing.


VIII.

Freyja one day
Falcon-wings took, and through space hied away;
Northward and southward she sought her
Dearly-loved Oder.


IX.

Ah! could I wear
Thine, they, alas! would not carry me there;
Wings like the gods’, to the lonely,
Death giveth only.


X.

Pretty one! keep
Fix’d on my shoulder, and gaze on the deep;
Gaze we and long as we will, no
Keel cleaves the billow.


XI.

When I am dead,
Doubtless returns he; then mind what I said:
Fridthjof, whose tears will bewail me,
Hail me, ah! hail me!