Helga.—No! Remember Helgi Skaftason, should he come with Brand.
Asbjorn.—Come he will if he is fated to death.
Helga.—Is Broddi along?
Asbjorn.—He is likely to be at Holar in the fort.
Helga (goes to her seat. Raises her voice). There is no cheer here to-night. Haf! Have you no song to recite or some tale to tell?
Haf (advancing to middle of floor).—I have put together a little song about the present feud.
Helga.—Let men hear it, Haf!
Haf.—Hither I see the ravens winging,
They steer their flight to Holar's steeple
On their errand bent death bringing;
Hard the bishop's bells are ringing:
Longest peals great Likabong:[A]
'The Peace of God shall save the people.'
[Footnote A: 'Lyke-knell,' name of the great bell of the Holar Cathedral.]
Heroes head their warlike forces,
Mailed fists 'gainst shields are clashing,
Over Herad's water-courses
Thunder thousand hoofs of horses,
Over fords and bridges dashing.
Long afar moans Likabong.