Northland Heroes | Page 9

know that the arm-ring which thou wearest was stolen, and that
Volund's work was never meant for thee." With these words he strove
to take the ring, but arm and ring seemed to have grown together. Then
he became angry and with a supreme effort he loosened the ring; but
the image fell into the flames of the altar.
Up leaped the fierce fire! Bjorn at the door was pale with dread.

Frithiof with equal anxiety called to him: "Open the doors, Bjorn, and
let the people go. The temple is burning; bring water, yea throw on an
oceanful!"
The warriors quickly formed a chain from the burning grove to the sea
and the water was passed with speed from hand to hand. Frithiof sat
like the god of rain and gave his orders in a calm, clear voice. Long
they strove, but in vain. The flames borne on the wings of the wind
mounted to the sky. The grove was dry with summer heat and the
hungry fire-king revelled midst the quick-burning branches.
Fiercely leaping from height to height, Aiming yet still higher; Oh,
what wild and terrific light! Strong is Balder's pyre!
Soon in smouldering ashes lay Grove and temple's adorning; Sadly then
Frithiof turned away-- Wept in the light of morning.

On the Sea
After the burning of Balder's temple and grove Frithiof was very sad at
heart. He felt that the sun-god would never forgive him, although he
had not intended any wrong. His home, the lovely Framness, had been
destroyed by the king. Ingeborg was kept from him, and the people of
his own country shunned him because of his crime against Balder. He
felt that he had no home, no country, no friends.
One refuge he had--the swift-flying ship Ellide. From her deck he saw
the fires still burning in Balder's grove. Grief filled his heart. "Gone is
the temple of the white god. In ashes are the groves once never
neglected! And I am to blame; anger and haste made me forget time
and place, the reverence due in that holy temple!"
Over the blue sea where wild waves sing, Ellide flew. Frithiof felt at
home in the tempest on the rocking ship--this was his Northland, these
on board were his only friends. The sea knows no king, and Helge's
wrath could not reach him on its waves.

But lo! from a hiding-place in the high rocks King Helge sends out ten
dragon ships. The warriors with Frithiof rejoice and laugh at the king,
for Bjorn had, unknown to all, leaped into the sea and bored holes in
the boat-keels. Down sank the ships and many men were drowned, but
Helge escaped.
In wrath the king drew his bow, but it broke. Then Frithiof aimed his
lance. "A death bird have I here, false king! but my lance refuses to
drink thy coward blood. It is too good for food so craven!"
So speaking Frithiof seized his oars--huge blades of fir, and swiftly
moved away.
Where foam-crest swimmeth Ellide skimmeth On joyous wings; But
Frithiof sings:
"Thou front of creation, Exalted North! I have no station On thy green
earth. Thy lineage sharing My pride doth swell, Thou home of daring!
Farewell, farewell!"
And that you also may sing Frithiof's song, the last verse is given with
the music.
[Illustration: Frithiof's Song]

The Viking's Code
Over the foaming sea Frithiof sailed, seeking strange lands and
adventures. Like a falcon in search of its prey flew the good boat,
Ellide, over the waves.
To the champions on board Frithiof gave this law of the viking:--
Make no tent on thy ship, never sleep in a house, for a foe within doors
you may view; On his shield sleeps the viking; his sword in his hand,
and his tent is the heavenly blue.

When the storm rageth fierce, hoist the sail to the top-- O how merry
the storm-king appears; Let her drive! let her drive! better founder than
strike, for who strikes is a slave to his fears.
If a merchant sail by, you must shelter his ship, but the weak will not
tribute withhold; You are king of the waves, he a slave to his gains; and
your steel is as good as his gold.
Let your goods be divided by lot or by dice, how it falls you may never
complain; But the sea-king himself takes no part in the lots--he
considers the honour his gain.
If a viking-ship come, there is grappling and strife, and the fight 'neath
the shields will rejoice; If you yield but a pace you are parted from us;
'tis the law, you may act by your choice.
If you win, be content: he who, praying for peace, yields his sword, is
no longer a foe! Prayer's a