There was at that time a general revival of interest in the so-called saga-age. The Danish poet, Oehlenschlaeger, had published his old-Norse cycle of poems, "Helge," which aroused a sympathetic reverberation in Tegner's mind. The idea took possession of him that here was a theme which lay well within the range of his own voice, and full of alluring possibilities. Accordingly he chose the ancient "Saga of Frithjof the Bold," and resolved to embody in it all the characteristic features of the old heroic life. And what Oehlenschlaeger had attempted to do, and partly succeeded in doing, he accomplished with a completeness of success which was a surprise to himself. No sooner had "Iduna," the organ of the Gothic League, published the first nine cantos (1821), than all Sweden resounded with enthusiastic applause; and even from beyond the boundaries of the fatherland came voices of praise. When the completed poem appeared in book-form, it was translated into all civilized languages, and everywhere, in spite of the translators' shortcomings, it was hailed with delight. Not only England, France, and Germany hastened to appropriate it, but even in Spain, Greece, and Russia tears were shed over "Ingeborg's Lament," and tender bosoms palpitated with sympathy for Frithjof's sorrows. I know a dozen English translations of "Frithjof's Saga" (a friend of mine, who is a bibliophile, assures me that the exact number is at present twenty-one), and of German versions the number is not very much less. A Norwegian (or rather Danish) rendering was presented to me on my twelfth birthday; and the sentiment which then most forcibly appealed to me was, as I vividly remember, embodied in the following verse, in which Bjoern chides his friend's grief for the loss of his beloved: "Frithjof, 'tis time for your folly's abating; Sigh and lament for a woman's loss: Earth is, alas, too full of such dross; One may be lost, still a thousand are waiting. Say but the word, of such goods I will bring Quickly a cargo--the Southland can spare them, Bed as the rose, mild as lambs in the spring; Then we'll cast lots, or as brothers we'll share them."[37] [37] Holcomb's translation. It was not the unconscious humor of this proposition which struck me the most in those days; but it was the bluff frankness of the gruff old viking which then seemed truly admirable. In fact, I am not sure but that Bjoern appeared to me a more sympathetic figure than Frithjof. But a little later it dawned upon me that his utter lack of chivalry was rather revolting; and I began to marvel at my former admiration. At fourteen the following verse (which at twelve was charmingly heroic) caused me to revise my opinion of Bjoern: "Good! to King Ring it shall be my glad duty Something to teach of a wronged viking's power; Fire we his palace at midnight's still hour, Scorch the old graybeard and bear off the beauty."