Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/294

Rh 'Angantyr! Angantyr! On this high promontory The tempest fierce whirling, far away bears my sobs, And thy name, O warrior, in the wave's music throbs. Hear me, answer me, from thy dark bed and gory, And break from thy prison, for thy glory it robs.'

'My child, O my daughter, do not trouble my dream! If the body is bound, the spirit soars like a song! Ha! I drink hydromel in the cup of the strong, In the heaven of Valhalla my glave adds a gleam, But the voice of the living to the dead is a wrong.'

'Angantyr! Angantyr! Give, oh give me thy sword; Thy children save myself welter naked in blood, And fishes devour them in the river's red flood; Sole escaped of thy race from the foemen's fierce horde, Let me wear the bright glave that none ever withstood.'

'My child, O my child, let us remain what we are, Befits well the distaff a young maiden's fair hand; Hence! Depart! Lo, on thy path the moon rises grand! For a man is the sword, and the tumult of war, But a fight foot to foot no woman may stand.'

'Angantyr! Angantyr! Hark! My birthright I claim! O warrior, revile not thy own race in this way, I long for the murderer's blood and the fray. Help me, or by Fenris, perish, perish thy name! May thy bones be dragged out by the wolf as a prey!

'My child, O my child, thy soul is lofty and great, The child of a hero must thus speak and thus feel, And clean his dimmed honour till it shine like this steel. Take the sword, O my loved, and be reckless of fate, Run, avenge me, and die where the trumpets loud peal.'