“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.