II.

King Bele And Thorstein.

King Bele, sword-supported, in the palace stood; And with him Thorstein, Viking's son, the peasant good. His ancient war companion, grown old in glory, His brow was scarred like rune-stones, his hair was hoary.

They stood, as on the mountain two temples stand To honored gods devoted, now half in sand; And many words of wisdom the walls are saying, And holy recollections through domes are straying.

"The evening steals upon me," king Bele said, "The helmet now is heavy, and stale the mead; The fate of man grows darker, but all the clearer High Valhal shines before me, as death draws nearer.

"My sons I here have summoned, and Thorstein's son For they should cling together, as we have done; But I would give the eaglets some words of warning-- Words may in death be sleeping ere dawns the morning."

Obedient to the mandate, the three advance-- First, Helge, dark and gloomy, with sullen glance; He dwelt amid diviners; the hand he proffered Was red with blood of victims, on altars offered.

The next who came was Halfdan, a light-haired swain: His countenance was noble, but weak and vain; He gaily bore a falchion, with which he gestured, And seemed a youthful maiden, in armor vestured.

And after them came Fridthjof, in mantle blue; He was stronger than the others, and taller, too; He stood between the brothers, by contrast seeming Like noon 'twixt night and morning, in splendor beaming.

"Ye sons," the king said gently, "my son goes down; Together rule the kingdom and take the crown; For unity is power, and no endeavor, While lance with ring is circled, its stem can sever.

"Let power stand as sentry on every hand, And freedom bloom protected throughout the land: The sword is for protection, and not for plunder. And shields are locks for peasants no foe can sunder.

"How foolish is the ruler his land to oppress, For the people give the power which kings possess; The crown of leafy verdure which decks the mountain Will wither if the sunshine dries up the fountain.

"On four gigantic pillars is heaven's throne-- The throne of nations resteth on law alone! Destruction waits on judgment; if misdirected; By right are men ennobled and kings perfected.

"In Disarsal, O Helge, the high gods dwell-- Not pinioned as the snail is within his shell; As far as daylight flieth, or thought's swift pinion, Far as resound the echoes, is gods' dominion.

The offered hawk gives tokens which oft deceive. Not all runes monumental can we believe: But an honest heart, O Helge, of pure endeavor, With Odin's runes is written, misleading never.

"Be not severe, king Helge, but firm and staid; The sword that bites the sharpest has the limberest blade. Kings are adorned by mercy, as shields by flowers, And spring can more accomplish than winter's powers.

"A man, however mighty, deprived of friends, Like tree of bark denuded, how soon life ends! But he by friends surrounded, like trees shall flourish, Whose crowns, in groves protected, the brooklets nourish.

"Boast not ancestral wisdom; each man alone A single bowstring uses, and that his own; What matters it to any the worth that's buried? By its own waves the current o'er seas is carried.

"A joyous spirit, Halfdan, advantage brings, But idle talk is needless, and most, to kings; Of hops, as well as honey, is mead compounded, Let sports on vigor, lances on steel, be founded.

"No man has too much wisdom, though learned he be, And much too little, many less learned than he; To fools, though high in station, no praise is meted, The wise hy all are honored, though lowly seated.

"The steadfast friend, O Halfdan! of mingled blood, Lives near indeed, though distant be his abode; But to thy foeman's dwelling the way is weary,-- Though standing by thy pathway, 'tis far and dreary.

"For friend choose not the first one that's so disposed,-- An empty house stands open, a full one closed; Choose one, the best, O Halfdan, nor seek another, The world soon knows the secrets of three together."

These words then Thorstein uttered in clearest tone: "King Bele unto Odin goes not alone; We've always stood together, whatever tried us, And death, now drawing near, shall not divide us.

"Fridthjof, old age hath whispered in my rapt ear Full many words of wisdom, which thou must hear. Birds fly from graves to Odin, with wisdom freighted, The words by old men spoken, should not be slighted.

"First, give the high gods honor; for good or ill, Storms come as well as sunshine, by Heaven's will. The gods perceive the secrets in thy possession. And years must make atonement for each transgression.

"Obey the king: most wisely rules one alone, The eyes of night are many, day has but one. The better are contented by best directed,-- The blade must have a handle to be perfected.

Great strength is heaven's dower; but, Fridthjof, learn That power devoid of wisdom, can little earn. Strong bears by one are taken,--one man of reason; Set shields to turn the sword stroke, let law stop treason.

"A few may fear the haughty, whom all despise, And with the proud in spirit, destruction lies: Those once flew high, who're now on crutches creeping; The winds rule fortune, weather, time of reaping.

"The day thou'lt rightly prize, whose sun has sunk, Advice when it is followed, and ale when drunk. The hopes of youth on shadows are often rested, But strength of sword and friendship, by use are 'tested.

"Trust not the snow of spring-time, nor night-old ice; The serpent when he sleepeth, nor girl's advice; The mind of changeful woman not long abideth, And fickleness of spirit, 'neath flower-tints hideth.

"All men will surely perish with all they prize, But one thing know I, Fridthjof, which never dies,-- And that is reputation', therefore, ever The noble action strive for, the good endeavor."

So warned the aged chieftains in the palace hall. As since the skald has chanted in Ha'vama'l, So passed these sayings pithy through generations; And still from graves they whisper 'mid northern nations.

Then many words and heartfelt, these warriors found To tell their lasting friendship, so wide renowned. How friends till death, if fortune or frowned or slighted. Like two hands clasped together they stood united.

"And back to back in battle we held the field, And which way norns did threaten, they smote a shield; Before you now to Valhal we old men hasten, And may their fathers' spirit our children's chasten."

The king said much concerning brave Fridthjof's worth, Heroic power surpassing all royal birth; And much was said by Thorstein, how graces cluster Round Northland's honored monarchs, with Asa-lustre.

"But hold ye fast together, ye children three, The Northland then your conqueror shall never see; For royalty and power, when duly ordered, Are like a bright shield golden, by blue steel bordered.

"Salute my daughter Ing'borg, the rosebud sweet, In quiet was she nurtured, as seemed meet: Protect her, lest the storm-king, with cruel power, Should fasten in his helmet my tender flower.

"I lay on thee, king Helge, a father's care, Love Ing'borg as a daughter, the jewel rare! Restraint galls noble spirits, but gentle manner Will lead both man and woman to right and honor.

"But lay us now, ye children, in two mound-graves. Close where the blue gulf tosses its ceaseless waves; Our souls shall then forever enjoy the ringing Of dirges which in breaking the waves are singing.

"When the moon's pale beams the mountains and valleys fill, And midnight's dew is falling on grove and hill; Then will we sit, O Thorstein, above our pillows, And talk about the future, across the billows.

"And now, farewell, ye children, our work is done; Unto the Allfather gladly we hasten on, Like weary rivers longing for sea's caressing; On you be Thor's and Odin's and Frey's rich blessing."

III

Buried were Bele and Thorstein together, as they had commanded; High rose their grave-mounds on each side the gulf by the blue rolling water, Death having sundered the hearts that in life were so closely united. Helge and Halfdan, by will of the people, took jointly the kingdom Left by their father; but Fridthjof, an only son, heired alone Framness, Took unmolested possession, and settled himself there in quiet.

Stretching around him for twelve miles unbroken his acres extended; Three sides were dale, hill and mountain, the fourth side looked out on the ocean; Crowned were the hill-tops with forests of birch-wood, but, on their sides sloping, Golden corn plentiful grew, and like billows the tall rye was waving. Many in number the lakes which their mirrors held up for the mountains; Held them up, too, for the woods in whose thickets the high-horned elks wandered, Making there kingly roads, drinking from running brooks counted by hundreds. But in the valleys wide, on the smooth greensward were quietly grazing Glossy-skinned herds, which with udders distended now long for the milk-pail. Scattered among them were myriads of white-wooled sheep, constantly moving, Looking like fleecy clouds sailing serenely across the blue heavens, Wafted now hither now thither in crowds by the winds in the spring-time.

Twelve times two coursers, fierce whirlwinds, defiant though fettered, Stood in the rows of stalls, stamping and restless, the meadow-hay chewing, Knotted their long manes with red, and their hoofs were with iron shoes glistening.

Standing apart was the drinking-hall, built of the choicest fir timber; Counting ten twelves to the hundred, not five hundred warriors assembled Filled up the spacious apartment, when all met to drink mead at Yule-time. Down through the middle, from end to end, ran a strong table of stone-oak, Polished with wax and like steel shining; carved on two pillars of elm-wood, Far at one end, Frey and Odin supported the dais of honor, Odin with lordly look, Frey with the sun for a crest on his bonnet.

'Twixt the two, on a bear-skin (black as a coal was this bear-skin, Scarlet the mouth, while the tips of the claws were with bright silver shining), Thorstein among his friends sat--hospitality ministering to Gladness.

Oft when the moon in the heavens was riding, the old man related Wonders of foreign lands seen by him when as a viking he journeyed, Far on the waves of the Baltic, the White, and the Northern seas tossing. Mutely the company listened. Fixed were their eyes on the speaker, Even as bees upon roses; the poet was thinking of Brage,*

*(Bra'-gay)

Brage with silver beard flowing, and tongue clothed in wisdom the choicest, Sitting 'neath shadowy birches, telling a story by Mimer's Unceasingly murmuring fountain, he too a saga unending. Covered with straw was the floor, and upon a walled hearth in the center, Constantly burned, warm and cheerful, a fire, while down the wide chimney Twinkling stars, heavenly friends, glanced upon guest and hall, quite unforbidden.

Studded with nails were the walls, and upon them were hanging Helmets and coats-of-mail closely together; also between them Here and there flashed down a sword, like a meteor shooting at evening. Brighter than helmet or sword were the sparkling shields ranged round the chamber; Bright as the time of the sun were they, clear as the moon's disc of silver. Oft as the horns needed filling, there passed round the table a maiden; Modestly blushing she cast down her eyes, her beautiful image Mirrored appeared in the shields, and gladdened the heart of each warrior.

Rich was the house, and the eye of the stranger, whichever way gazing, Rested on cellar well filled, or on pantry or press overflowing. Jewels the rarest, trophies of conquest, gleamed in profusion; Gold carved in runes with great skill, and wonderful things wrought in silver. Chief in this limitless treasure three things were most of all valued.

First of the three was a sword, which from sire and from grandsire descended. Called Angervadil, or grief-wader, sometimes, too, brother of lightning. Far, far away in the East it was forged--so at least says the story-- Tempered in fire by the dwarfs. Bjorn Bluetooth the first one who bore it.

Bjorn lost at once both the sword and his life in a bravely-fought battle, Southward in Groning Sound, where he struggled with Vifil the powerful. Vifil's possessions descended to Viking.

At Woolen-Acre, Old and infirm, there lived a great king with a beautiful daughter. See, from the depths of the forest there cometh a giant misshapen, Higher in stature than man, a monster ferocious and shaggy, Boldly demanding a hand-to-hand combat, or kingdom and daughter.

No one, however, accepted the challenge, for none had a weapon Able his hard skull to pierce, and therefore they called him the Iron-skull.

Viking, whose winters scarce fifteen had 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 bought," he often said frowning; "Once in my life was I frightened; 'twas when I recovered that arm-ring." Widely renowned was that ring, and of rings was the chief in the Northland.

Lastly the ship, called Ellide, was one of the family jewels. Viking, so say they, returning triumphant from venturesome journeys, Sailed along coasting near Framness. There he espied on a shipwreck, Carelessly swinging, a sailor, sporting as 'twere with the billows. Noble of figure, tall in his stature, joyful his visage, Changeable too, like the waves of the sea when they sport ill the sunshine,-- Blue was his mantle, golden his girdle and studded with corals; Sea-green his hair, but his beard was as white as the foam of the ocean. Viking his serpent steered thither to rescue the unfortunate stranger,-- Took him half frozen to Framness, and there as a guest entertained him. When by his host to repose he was bidden, smiling he answered: "Fair sits the wind, and my ship which you boarded, is not yet disabled; Long ere the morning I trust she will hear me a hundred miles seaward. Thanks for thy bidding, 'twas well meant and kindly. Ah! could I only Leave thee a gift to remind thee of me! but afar on the ocean Lieth my kingdom. Perhaps in the morning 'twill waft thee a token." Viking next day by the sea-shore was standing, when lo! like an eagle Madly pursuing its prey, a dragon ship sailed into harbor. Nowhere was visible sailor or captain, or even a steersman; Winding 'mid rocks and through breakers, the rudder a path sought unaided; When the firm strand it was nearing, sudden, as ruled by a spirit, Reefed were the sails unassisted. Untouched by finger of mortal, The anchor sped through the clear water and fastened its barbs in the bottom. Viking gazed, speechless with wonder; the sportive winds sang in low cadence: "AEger the rescued forgetteth no kindness, he gives thee the dragon." Kingly the gift to behold. The heavy curved planks of oak timber Matched not together like others, but grew in one broad piece united. It stretched its huge form in the sea like a dragon, its stem proudly lifted, A stately head high in the air. Its throat with red gold was all blazing; Sprinkled its belly with yellow and azure, and back of the rudder, Covered with scales of pure silver, its tail lashed the waves in a circle. Bordered with red were its inky black pinions. When all unfolding, It flew in a race with the whirlwind, and left far behind the swift eagle. When it was filled with armed warriors, you'd fancy you were beholding A citadel swimming the billows, or palace o'er ocean ave flying. Widely renowned was that ship, and of ships was the chief in the Northland.

All this and other vast treasures did Fridthjof receive from his father. Scarce was there found in the Northland any with richer possessions, Save were he heir of a kingdom, for of kings is the wealth always greatest. Though from no king he descended, yet was his mind truly royal, Courteous, noble and kind. Daily became he more famous. Twelve gray-haired champions, valorous chieftains, sat at his table, Thorstein's steel-breasted companions, whose brows were with scars deeply furrowed. Next to the warriors was seated a youth of the same age as Fridthjof,--

Like a fresh rose 'mid the dry leaves of autumn; Bjorn was this blossom. Grown up with Fridthjof, in days of their boyhood their blood they commingled, Brothers becoming in good northern fashion, sworn to each other In joy and in grief, the survivor avenging the death of his comrade.

In the midst of the warriors and guests who had come to the funeral banquet, Fridthjof, a sorrowing host, his eyelids with tears overflowing Drank in accordance with ancestral usage, a skoal to his father, Heard the old minstrels sing loudly his praises, a thundering drapa, Rightfully took of his late father's seat undisputed possession, And sat between Odin and Frey. So sitteth Thor up in Valhal.