Here Saxo is careful to explain what he means by the word _giant_. There were, he assures us, three species. First, there were the vulgar giants; those who excelled all mankind in bodily stature. Next, were the wise men, who were as much inferior to the former in bulk, as they were superior in knowledge: these penetrated into the secret workings of nature, and were enemies of the monster giants, whom they subdued. Like the Persian magi, they struggled for, and obtained, the chief power of the state wherever they settled, and arrogated to themselves a divine, no less than a regal, authority; in short, they were expert magicians, able to delude all mankind by their prestiges. Next, we have the third class of giants, who were the offspring of the two preceding, and were inferior to one parent in magnitude of body, to the other in knowledge; yet, in both respects, they were above the ordinary standard of our nature, and were thought, by their deluded admirers, to inherit some portion of divinity. After this sage distinction, the Danish ecclesiastic observes, that we ought not to be surprised at the credulity of the northmen, for were not the Romans, though the wisest of men, equally credulous? Whatever may be thought of that distinction, or of the personages whom he has drawn from everlasting obscurity, of the existence of this credulity we have abundant evidence; and it furnishes one of the best comments on the manners and opinions of the times.[18] _Swibdager_, the conqueror of Gram, and the sixth king of Denmark, found the weight of three crowns too much for one brow. At the entreaty, therefore, of Gro, the divorced queen of Gram, he recalled her son Guthrum from exile, and placed him, as a vassal, on the throne. This prince was naturally despised as the slave of a foreign prince. Not so his brother _Hadding_, who, preferring liberty to a dependent court, and the hope of avenging his father’s death to the smiles of that father’s murderer, remained in exile, and with him were the hearts of Denmark. Of all the ancient heroes of the monarchy, this is, perhaps, the most celebrated. Wondrous, indeed, were his actions. While a youth, he inflamed the heart of Hardgrip, the giant daughter of his giant foster-father, who urged him to make a corresponding return. How could he love a giantess? Was he—whom she could, almost, inclose in one of her hands—a fit match for her? The thing was impossible. “By no means,” was the reply. “We of the superhuman breed can change, at pleasure, our forms, and even our substances; in short, we can reach the clouds, or reduce ourselves to your size.” The royal youth consented; and never had man a more useful or more faithful companion. Her magical knowledge was of more avail to him than her valour, for in that he could equal her; but she could furnish him with superior weapons, defend him from unseen danger, and cure his wounds where human aid would have been useless. At