"Singular is the song of the hero Vonved. After having received the magic blessing, he rides out, darkly hinting that he must never return, or have avenged the death of his father. For a long time he sees no city and no man; he then overthrows whomsoever opposes him; he lays his enigmas before the herdsmen, concerning that which is most grand, and that which is most horrible; concerning the course of the sun and the repose of the dead; he who cannot explain them is slaughtered. Haughtily he sits among the heroes--their invitations do not please him--he rides home--slays twelve sorceresses who come against him--then his mother, and at last he demolishes his harp, so that no sweet sound shall in future soften his wild humour. This song, more than any of the rest, seems to be composed with a meaning of its own; and shows the melancholy of a ruined, wandering mind, which will have its enigmas cleared up! The anguish of a man is expressed therein, who cannot move freely the wings which he feels; and, who, when this anguish torments him, is forced to deal out destruction against all--even against his best-beloved. Such a character seems to be quite the property of the North. In the strange life of King Sigurd, the wanderer to Jerusalem, and likewise in Shakspeare's Hamlet, there is something similar." Svend Vonved sits in his lonely bower; He strikes his harp with a hand of power; His harp return'd a responsive din; Then came his mother hurrying in: Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. In came his mother Adeline, And who was she, but a queen, so fine: "Now hark, Svend Vonved! out must thou ride, And wage stout battle with knights of pride. Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. "Avenge thy father's untimely end; To me, or another, thy gold harp lend; This moment boune {f:8} thee, and straight begone! I rede {f:9} thee, do it, my own dear son." Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. Svend Vonved binds his sword to his side; He fain will battle with knights of pride. "When may I look for thee once more here? When roast the heifer, and spice the beer?" Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. "When stones shall take, of themselves, a flight, And ravens' feathers are woxen {f:10} white, Then may'st thou expect Svend Vonved home: In all my days, I will never come." Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. His mother took that in evil part: "I hear, young gallant, that mad thou art; Wherever thou goest, on land or sea, Disgrace and shame shall attend on thee." Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. He kiss'd her thrice, with his lips of fire: "Appease, O mother, appease thine ire; Ne'er wish me any mischance to know, For thou canst not tell how far I may go." Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. "Then I will bless thee, this very day; Thou never shalt perish in any fray; Success shall be in thy courser tall; Success in thyself, which is best of all. Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.