llow's tr.).

"Then the storm unfetter'd wingeth
Wild his course; in Ocean's foam
Now he dips him, now up-swingeth,
Whirling toward the God's own home:
Rides each Horror-spirit, warning,
High upon the topmost wave--
Up from out the white, vast, yawning,
Bottomless, unfathom'd grave."

Tegner, Frithiof Saga (G. Stephens's tr.).

The Tempest

Unfrighted by tossing waves and whistling blasts, Frithiof sang a
cheery song to reassure his terrified crew; but when the peril grew
so great that his exhausted followers gave themselves up for lost, he
bethought him of tribute to the goddess Ran, who ever requires gold of
them who would rest in peace under the ocean wave. Taking his armlet,
he hewed it with his sword and made fair division among his men.

"Who goes empty-handed
Down to sea-blue Ran?
Cold her kisses strike, and
Fleeting her embrace is."

Tegner, Frithiof Saga (G. Stephens's tr.).

He then bade Bjoern hold the rudder, and himself climbed to the mast-top
to view the horizon. While perched there he descried a whale, upon
which the two witches were riding the storm. Speaking to his good
ship, which was gifted with power of understanding and could obey
his commands, he now ran down both whale and witches, and the sea was
reddened with their blood. At the same instant the wind fell, the waves
ceased to threaten, and fair weather soon smiled again upon the seas.

Exhausted by their previous superhuman efforts and by the labour
of baling their water-logged vessel, the men were too weak to land
when they at last reached the Orkney Islands, and had to be carried
ashore by Bjoern and Frithiof, who gently laid them down on the sand,
bidding them rest and refresh themselves after all the hardships they
had endured.

"Yet more wearied than their Dragon
Totter Frithiof's gallant men;
Though each leans upon his weapon,
Scarcely upright stand they then.
Bjoern, on pow'rful shoulder, dareth
Four to carry to the land;
Frithiof, all alone, eight beareth,--
Sets them so round the upblaz'd brand.

'Nay! ye white-fac'd, shame not!
Waves are mighty Vikings;
Hard's the unequal struggle--
Ocean's maids our foes.
See! there comes the mead-horn,
Wand'ring on bright gold-foot;
Shipmates! cold limbs warm,--and
Here's to Ingeborg!'"