Fridthjofs Saga | Page 8

numbered, nobly advancing, Entered the fray, secure in his strong arm and good Angervadil. Cleft at one blow the hideous goblin, and rescued the maiden. Viking bequeathed the good weapon to Thorstein, his son, and Thorstein, To Odin ascended, bequeathed it to Fridthjof. Whenever he drew it, Light filled the hall as when northern lights entered, or lightning flashed through it.?Hammered of gold was the hilt, with strange letters 'twas covered; Wonderful mysteries were they in Northland, but known to the people Who dwell near the gates of the sun, where our fathers lived ere they came hither.
Faint were the runes when the land was in quiet throughout all its borders; But when the followers of Hild were summoned, then were they burning Red as the comb of a cock when he fighteth. Lost was the warrior Who met, on the field of encounter, the blade with its red letters glowing. Highly renowned was that sword, and of swords was the chief in the Northland.
Next highly prized was the ponderous arm-ring, widely notorious, Forged by the Vulcan of northern tradition, the halting smith Volund; Three marks it weighed, and gold was the metal of which it was fashioned; Carved were the heavens with twelve towering castles, where dwell the immortals,--?Emblem of changing months, called by the poets the sun's glorious dwelling. First there was Frey's castle Alfheim, that is the sun, which born newly, Starts once again to ascend the steep pathway of Heaven at Yule-time. There too was Sokvabek; seated within it were Odin and Saga Drinking together their wine from a gold shell,--that shell is the Ocean, Colored with gold from the glow of the morning. Saga is Spring-time, Writ on the green of the fresh springing field, with flowers for letters. Balder, the kingly, is pictured there, throned on the sun at midsummer, Which pours from the firmament riches untold,-- personified goodness; For lights are the good, radiant, resplendent, but the evil are darkness. Constantly rising the sun groweth weary; the good also falter, Giddy with walking precipitous heights; sighing they downward Sink to the land of the shades,--down to Hel. That is of Balder The funeral pile. Glitner, the castle of Peace, is there; seated Within it was Forse'te',* scales in hand, meting out justice.
*For-se-te
Many more pictures with these there engraven, betoken the conflict Waged against darkness, on earth and in heaven; bright were they shining, Wrought by a master's hand on the broad arm-ring. Clustering rubies Crown its high center, e'en as in summer the sun crowns the heavens. Long was the circlet a family heir-loom. On the side of the mother Traced they their pedigree back to old Volund, ancestor mighty. Once, says tradition, the jewel was stolen by robber named Soti, Roaming abroad through the seas. Long was it ere 'twas recovered. Finally (so runs the story) 'twas said that the robber had buried Himself with his ship, and. his treasure, deep on the far coast of Britain. Pleasure or quiet he found not, a ghost was his irksome companion. Hearing the rumor, Thorstein with Bele the dragon ship mounted, Dashed through the foaming waves, straight to the place of the sepulcher steering.?Wide as a temple's arch, or a king's gateway, bedded in gravel, Covered with grassy turf, arched to the top, the tomb rose forbidding. Light issued from it. Through a small crevice within the closed portal, Peered the two champions. There the pitched viking ship?Stood with its masts, its yards and its anchor. High in the stern sheets Was seated a terrible figure, clad in a mantle all flaming, Furious demon scouring a blade that with blood spots was covered. Vain was his labor, naught could remove them. All his rich booty Round him was scattered, and on his arm was the ring he had stolen.
"Go we," said Bele, "down thither and fight with the hideous goblin, Two 'gainst a spirit of fire." But Thorstein half angrily answered: "One against one is the rule of our fathers. I fight well singly." Long they contended which first of the two the encounter should venture, Proving the perilous journey. Bele at last took his helmet, Shaking two lots therein. Watched by the stars Thorstein saw by their shimmer His was the lot first appearing. A blow from his javelin of iron Cleft the huge bolts and strong locks. He descended. Did any one question What was revealed in the cavern, then was he silent and shuddered. Bele at first heard strange music. It rang like the song of a goblin; Then was a clattering noise, like the clashing of blades in a combat, Lastly a hideous shriek,--then silence. Out staggered Thorstein, Confounded, bewildered, all pale was his face, for with death had he battled; Yet bore he the arm-ring a trophy. "'Twas dear