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But quickly sped are childhood’s days,—­
There stands a youth whose ardent gaze
With pleading and with hope is laden,
And there, with budding charms, a maiden.

Young Fridthjof followed oft the chase,
Which led to many a fearful place;
With neither spear nor lance defended,
The wild bear’s life he quickly ended.

When, struggling, met they breast to breast,
The hunter won, though hardly pressed,
And brought the bearskin home; such prizes,
Think you, a maiden e’er despises?

For woman values courage rare;
The brave alone deserves the fair,
Each one the other’s grace completing,
As brow and helmet fitly meeting.

And when in winter evenings long,
By firelight reading, in a song,
Of fair abodes in radiant heaven

To every god and goddess given,

He thought:  “Of gold is Ing’borg’s hair,
A net for rose and lily fair: 
Like Freyja’s bounteous golden tresses,
A wheat-field which the breeze caresses.

Fair Idun’s beauteous bosom beats
Beneath the green silk’s safe retreats,—­
I know a silk whose sheen encloses
Light; fairies two, with buds of roses.

And Frigg’s mild eyes are blue and clear
As heaven, when no clouds appear,—­
But I know eyes beside whose sparkles
A light, blue spring day quickly darkles.

And Gerd’s fair cheeks, why praise them so? 
The northern-lights, on new fall’n snow,—­
I know of cheeks whose rosy warnings
Portray at once two ruddy mornings.

I know a heart affection-crowned
Like Nanna’s, though not so renowned
And Nanna’s love, in song and story,
is justly reckoned Balder’s glory.

For oh, what joy when death appears,
To have a faithful maiden’s tears! 
To prove a love so strong and tender,
With Hel’s grim shades I’d gladly wander.”

Meanwhile the princess gayly wove
In cloth, blue wave and greenest grove;
And as she sang a hero’s story,
She also wove a hero’s glory.

For soon there grew in snow-white wool
Bright shields from off the golden spool,
Here, red prevail the battle lances,
There, silver-stiffened armor glances.

Anon her fingers deftly trace
A hero,—­see, ’tis Fridthjof’s face;
And though at first almost affrighted,
She blushes, smiles and is delighted.

The birch tree’s stem where Fridthjof went
Showed I and F in beauty blent;
As grew those runes in one, delighted,
So too those hearts in one united.

When Day invests the upper air,
The world-king with the golden hair,
When men to action urge each other,
They think alone of one another.

When Night pervades the upper air,
The world-queen with the raven hair,
When stars in silence greet each other,
They dream alone of one another.

“Thou Earth, who in the spring-time fair,
Bedeck’st with flowers thine emerald hair,
Give me the best; in wreaths I’ll wind them,
And round my Fridthjof’s brow will bind them.”