[THE GROTTESONG.]
Now are come
To the house of the king
The prescient two,
Fenja and Menja.
There must the mighty
Maidens toil
For King Frode,
Fridleif’s son.
Brought to the mill
Soon they were;
The gray stones
They had to turn.
Nor rest nor peace
He gave to them:
He would hear the maidens
Turn the mill.
They turned the mill,
The prattling stones
The mill ever rattling.
What a noise it made!
Lay the planks!
Lift the stones![98]
But he[99] bade the maids
Yet more to grind.
They sang and swung
The swift mill-stone,
So that Frode’s folk
Fell asleep.
Then, when she came
To the mill to grind,
With a hard heart
And with loud voice
Did Menja sing:
We grind for Frode
Wealth and happiness,
And gold abundant
On the mill of luck.
Dance on roses!
Sleep on down!
Wake when you please!
That is well ground.
Here shall no one
Hurt the other,
Nor in ambush lie,
Nor seek to kill;
Nor shall any one
With sharp sword hew,
Though bound he should find
His brother’s bane.
They stood in the hall,
Their hands were resting;
Then was it the first
Word that he spoke:
Sleep not longer
Than the cuckoo on the hall,
Or only while
A song I sing:
Frode! you were not
Wary enough,—
You friend of men,—
When maids you bought!
At their strength you looked,
And at their fair faces,
But you asked no questions
About their descent.
Hard was Hrungner
And his father;
Yet was Thjasse
Stronger than they,
And Ide and Orner,
Our friends, and
The mountain-giants’ brothers,
Who fostered us two.