“Woe, woe is me!” he cried to himself; “in accusation rises yonder smoke to Odin’s halls! Banished was I by Helge but for a brief space; now must I forever leave my native land. Be thou, O sea, from hence my country. On thy blue billows will I make my home. Framnäs no longer is my dwelling; thou, swift ‘Ellida,’ shalt be now my house. My bride, too, art thou in thy black garb, since she in lily robes is lost to me forever. Free dost thou roll, O mighty ocean! No tyrant’s will can ever do thee wrong; the only King thou callest master is he who looks upon thee calmly when thy white breast heaves in wildest fury, and thunder peals are swallowed in thy voice. No grave-mound e’er shall rise above me; thy tossing waves shall cover deep my bones.” Here Björn approached and touched his shoulder, saying, “Look! yonder King Helge makes his way amid the rocks. Methinks he hath yet a word to speak with thee.” Ten dragon ships were seen approaching. Frithiof sprang to his feet and bade his men prepare for battle. Joyously they shouted: “King Helge wearies of the crown. His soul thirsts for Valhalla’s delights. Now shall he fall; bold Frithiof leads us unto victory.” On came the ships in a half-circle, surrounding “Ellida.” Helge had given orders to slay Frithiof and all his men, but to capture the ship as their prize. Suddenly a strange sight met the eyes of Frithiof and his warriors and filled them with amazement: nine of the ships sank slowly down beneath the waves, while Helge himself escaped with difficulty to the shore. Björn laughed. “’Twas I that scuttled the ships last night, unseen. A good trick it was, and all befell as I had hoped, save that King Helge has escaped!” Now all the sails were spread and the ship sped swiftly out to sea. Backward gazing, Frithiof watched the fast receding shore and chanted a song that moved all hearts to sadness: Farewell! mounds dreaming By wavelets blue, Where west winds streaming White blossoms strew! Odin revealeth And doometh well What man concealeth;— Farewell! Farewell! Farewell, ye bowers, Ye limpid streams, Where ’mid spring flowers, Youth wandered in dreams. Ye friends of childhood Who loved me well,— Till death remembered,— Farewell! Farewell! My love insulted, My dwelling brent, My honor tarnished, In exile sent,— Heart bideth in sadness Norns’ fatal spell. To Life’s young gladness Farewell! Farewell! Chapter XV Frithiof’s Viking Life Thus Frithiof became a viking, the sea his only home; and these are the laws he made for his followers: “Pitch no tent on thy ship; seek no slumber below. On his shield sleeps the viking, his sword in his hand. His tent is the blue dome of heaven. “Short be thy sword, like the hammer of Thor; strike close to the foe.