There lives, O Angantyr, a maid Who yearns to handle the keen-edged blade, And such a maid am I! And what care I though the tomb fires blaze! They sink and tremble before my gaze, They quiver out and die! Angantyr: O Hervˆr, 'tis folly and madness dire To rush wide-eyed through the flaming fire With courage undismayed. Rather by far will I give to thee The accursed sword, though unwillingly, My little, tender maid. Hervˆr: O son of the vikings, well hast thou done In giving me Tyrfing from out the tomb; And happier am I today That I now grasp Tyrfing within my hands Than if I were queen of the broad Northlands, And conqueror of Noroway. Angantyr: Vain is thy rapture, my luckless maid! Thy hopes are false. All too soon will fade The flush of joy from thy face. Try, child, to listen; I am warning thee!-- This sword is the sword of destiny, The destroyer of all thy race! Hervˆr: Away, away to my 'ocean-steed'! The daughter of princes is glad indeed, O glad at heart today! And what care I for the destiny Of children as yet undreamed by me?-- Let them quarrel as they may! Angantyr: Thou shalt have and enjoy without sorrow or pain The blade which proved to be Hjalmar's bane, If thou draw it not from its sheath. Worse than a plague is this cursed thing. Touch not its edges, for poisons cling Above it and beneath. Farewell, yet fain would I give to thee The life that has passed from my brothers and me, O daughter, 'tis truth I say! --The strength and vigour and hardihood, --All that we had that was great and good, That has vanished and passed away! Hervˆr: Farewell, farewell to all you dead! Farewell! I would that I were sped! Farewell all you in the mound!... Surely in terror I drew my breath Between the Worlds of Life and Death When the grave fires girt me round! [Footnote 1: Two lines are missing from the MS. at this point.] Then she returned towards her ships; but when dawn came, she saw that they had departed. The vikings had been scared by the rumblings and the flames on the island. She got a ship to carry her away; but nothing is told of her voyage till she came to Guthmund in Glasisvellir, where she remained all through the winter, still calling herself Hervarth. VI. One day Guthmund was playing chess, and when the game was almost up, he asked if anyone could advise him as to his moves. So Hervarth went up to him and began to direct his moves; and it was not long before Guthmund began to win. Then somebody took up Tyrfing and drew it. When Hervarth saw this, he snatched the sword out of his hands, and slew him, and then left the room. They wanted to rush out in pursuit, but Guthmund said: