First she slew the carlish count,
That throld both laid and tall;
And then as they strove to ’scape through the door,
She slew the little trolds all.
The guests and the Norland men each one
So downcast were of mood;
Blows from the hand of the bride they got
That robbed their cheeks of blood.
It was Lokke Leyemand,
He opened his mouth in game:
“Now we will fare to our country home,
And our sire a widow proclaim.”
FROM THE ARABIC
O thou who fain would’st wisdom gain,
Live night and day untired;
For by repeated toil and pain
It is alone acquired.
THORVALD
Svend Tveskjeg havde sig en Maud
Swayne Tveskieg did a man possess,
Sir Thorvald hight;
Though fierce in war, kind acts in peace
Were his delight.
From port to port his vessels fast
Sailed wide around,
And made, where’er they anchor cast,
His name renown’d.
But Thorvald has freed his King.
Prisoners he bought—clothes, liberty,
On them bestowed,
And sent men home from slavery
To their abode.
And many an old man got his boy,
His age’s stay;
And many a maid her youth’s sole joy,
Her lover gay.
But Thorvald has freed his King.
A brave fight Thorvald loved full dear,
For brave his mood;
But never did he dip his spear
In feeble blood.
He followed Swayne to many a fray
With war-shield bright,
And his mere presence scar’d away
Foul deeds of might.
But Thorvald has freed his King.