. No one can by complaining
change what the fates have decreed. But if you will stay, my sorrow
you will lighten. Take my queen, reign over the land and guard the
crown. Long have I reigned in the Northland, loved and respected.
Though I longed for peace, yet have I broken shields in war both by sea
and land without turning pale. Vainly have I sought for peace amid
slaughter. Now the mild daughter of heaven beckons me hence to Valhal.

"Bring for my drinking
The horn with wine flowing;
Skoal to thy honour, thou land of my birth!
Minds deeply thinking,
Harvest fields growing--
Peaceful exploits have I loved on the earth."

Speaking thus bravely, the king pressed the hand of his queen and of
his son. Frithiof's also he clasped with love. Then, closing his
eyelids gently, the royal spirit of King Ring sank with a sigh to
All-father's breast.

The New King

King Ring sits in his barrow, buckler on arm and battle-sword by his
side. His war-horse stands at the cairn pawing the earth and chafing
as though impatient to start on the long journey.

Thus sang the harper of the departed hero: "Great King Ring has gone on
his last journey. He rides over Bifrost, the rainbow bridge that leads
to Valhal. The bridge bends with his weight. Wide open the doors of
Valhal to welcome him, and hands reach out to lead him within the doors.

"'Odin himself, king of the gods, calls for the beaker to be brought.
Frey wreathes the king's head with garlands of grain ears, and Frigg
places therein the bluest of her blossoms. Broge, the singer of the
gods, tunes his golden harp and sings a song of welcome. Silent is
Valhal as he sings:--

"'Dear to us is this hero king, for he held his shield as a shelter for
peace. Always did Forseti, goddess of justice and peace, have an
honoured place in his kingdom. Generous, too, was the king, always
strewing beauty and blessing far and near. To heroes he gave gifts
without measure; sadness he comforted and suffering he relieved.

"'Welcome, thou wise winner of Valhal! Long will you be loved and
honoured in the Northland. You are loved by the gods, a friend from
the earth.'"

So sang the harper in the palace of the king whom he loved.

When the news spread over the country that King Ring was dead, the
peasants and warriors from hill and dale, from meadow and farm, cried:
"We must choose a king to fill his place."

The peasant took from the wall his