II.

‘Gainst Ellide came
        Of trolls a grim pair;
‘Twas the wind-cold Ham,
        ‘Twas Hejd with snow-hair.

Then the storm unfetter’d wingeth
        Wild his course; in ocean’s foam
Now he dips him, now up-swingeth,
        Whirling toward the god’s own home:
Rides each horror-spirit, warning,
        High upon the topmost wave —
Up from out the white, vast, yawning,
        Bottomless, unfathom’d grave.

“Fairer was our voyage,
Moonlight glitt’ring round us,
O’er the mirroring billows
Hence to Balder’s grove:
Warmer than ‘tis here, my
Ing’borg’s heart was beating, —
Whiter than the sea-foam
Swell’d her bosom then!”


III.

Now, Solund’s Isles see
        ‘Mong white breakers stand; —
There all calm the waves be,
        There’s your port, steer to land!

But the dauntless viking fears not
        On his true-fast oak so soon;
Hard the helm he grasps, and hears not.
        But with joy, winds sport aboon.
Tighter still the sail he stretches,
        Faster still he cuts his way, —
Westward, west, due west, he fetches,
        Rush the billow as it may!

“Fain one moment longer
Fierce I’d fight the tempest;
Storms and Norsemen flourish
Well together here.
For a gust to landward,
Should her ocean-eagle,
Fearful, feebly flutter —
How would Ing’borg blush!


IV.

But each wave’s now a hill,
        Down yet deeper they reel,
Blasts in cordage sing shrill, —
        Strains the grating keel:

Yet howe’er the surges wrestle,
        Whether for or ‘gainst they rise, —
Still Ellide, god-built vessel,
        All their angry threats defies,
Like some star-shoot in the gloaming,
        Glad she bounds along, and leaps
Goat-like o’er rough mountains roaming,
        Now o’er heights and now o’er deeps!

“Better felt soft kisses
From my bride with Balder,
Than, as here I stand, to
Taste this up-thrown brine.
Better ‘twas t’ encircle
Ing’borg’s waist so slender,
Than, as here, tight-clasping
This hard rudder bar!”


V.

But the snow-big cloud
        Icy knife-gusts pours;
And on deck, shield, shroud,
        Clatter hailstone showers;

And from stem to stern on board her,
        Naught thou canst for night descry,
Dark ‘tis there, as in that chamber
        Where the dead imprisoned lie.
Down ‘mid whirlpool-horror dashes
        Th’ implacable bedevil’d wave;
While gray-white, as strown with ashes,
        Gapes one endless, soundless grave.

“Ran our beds of blue is
Spreading ‘mong the billows,
But for me is waiting
Thy bed, Ingeborg!
Yes! stout-hearted fellows
Lift thy oars, Ellide,
Gods thy good keel builded, —
Yet awhile we’ll swim!”


VI.

O’er the starboard broke
        Now a mountain-sea,
And with whelming stroke
        Swept her deck all free.

Fridthjof then his armlet taking
        (Three marks weidh’d it, and was old
Bele’s gift, nor morn’s awaking
        Sun outshone its fine-wrought gold),
Quick the dwarf-carv’d ring in pieces
        Hews relentless with his sword.
And, the fragments sharing, misses
        None of all his line on board.

“Gold on sweetheart ramblings,
Pow’rful is and pleasant;
Who goes empty-handed
Down to sea-blue Ran,
Cold her kisses strike, and
Fleeting her embrace is —
But we, ocean’s bride be-
Trothe with purest gold!”