Frithiof’s Home-coming
Taking leave of his kind host, Frithiof set sail, and wafted by favourable winds, the hero, after six days, came in sight of Framnäs, and found that his home had been reduced to a shapeless heap of ashes by Helgé’s orders. Sadly Frithiof strode over the ravaged site of his childhood’s home, and as he viewed the desolate scene his heart burned within him. The ruins were not entirely deserted, however, and suddenly Frithiof felt the cold nozzle of his hound thrust into his hand. A few moments later his favourite steed bounded to his master’s side, and the faithful creatures were well-nigh frantic with delight. Then came Hilding to greet him with the information that Ingeborg was now the wife of Sigurd Ring. When Frithiof heard this he flew into a Berserker rage, and bade his men scuttle the vessels in the harbour, while he strode to the temple in search of Helgé.
The king stood crowned amid a circle of priests, some of whom brandished flaming pine-knots, while all grasped a sacrificial flint knife. Suddenly there was a clatter of arms and in burst Frithiof, his brow dark as autumn storms. Helgé’s face went pale as he confronted the angry hero, for he knew what his coming presaged. “Take thy tribute, King,” said Frithiof, and with the words, he took the purse from his girdle and flung it in Helgé’s face with such force that blood gushed from his mouth and he fell swooning at Balder’s feet.
The silver-bearded priests advanced to the scene of violence, but Frithiof motioned them back, and his looks were so threatening that they durst not disobey.
Then his eye fell upon the arm-ring which he had given to Ingeborg and which Helgé had placed upon the arm of Balder, and striding up to the wooden image he said: “Pardon, great Balder, not for thee was the ring wrested from Völund’s tomb!” Then he seized the ring, but strongly as he tugged it would not come apart. At last he put forth all his strength, and with a sudden jerk he recovered the ring, and at the same time the image of the god fell prone across the altar fire. The next moment it was enveloped in flames, and before aught could be done the whole temple was wreathed in fire and smoke.
“All, all’s lost! From half-burned hall
Th’ fire-red cock up-swingeth!—
Sits on the roof, and, with shrilly call
Flutt’ring, his free course wingeth.”
Tegnér’s Frithiof Saga (G. Stephens’s tr.).
Frithiof at the Shrine of Balder
Knut Ekwall
By Permission of F. Bruckmann, Munich
Frithiof, horror-stricken at the sacrilege which he had involuntarily occasioned, vainly tried to extinguish the flames and save the costly sanctuary, but finding his efforts unavailing he escaped to his ship and resolved upon the weary life of an outcast and exile.
“Thou may’st not rest thee,
Thou still must haste thee,
Ellida!—out
Th’ wide world about.
Yes! rock on! roaming
Mid froth salt-foaming
My Dragon good!
“Thou billow bold
Befriend me!—Never
I’ll from thee sever!—
My father’s Mound
Dull stands, fast-bound,
And self-same surges
Chaunt changeless dirges;
But blue shall mine
’Mid tempests swimming,
And storms thick dimming,
And draw yet mo
Down, down, below.—
My Life-Home given,
Thou shalt, far-driven!
My Barrow be—
Thou free broad Sea!”
Tegnér, Frithiof Saga (G. Stephens’s tr.).