"
"Sir Erik, thy words are both witty and wise,
And hell, when it has thee, will have a rich prize!
"Convey unto Helga her gold ring so red;
Be sure to inform her when Fridleif is dead;
"But flame shall give water, and marble shall bleed,
Before thou shalt win by this treacherous deed:
"And I will not die like a hound, in the straw,
But go, like a hero, to Odin and Thor."
He cut himself thrice, with his keen-cutting glaive,
And went to Valhalla, {f:2} the way of the brave.
The knight bade his daughter come into the room:
"Look here, my sweet child, on thy merry bridegroom."
She look'd on the body, and gave a wild start;
"O father, why hadst thou so cruel a heart?"
She moan'd and lamented, she rav'd and she curst;
She look'd on her love, till her very eyes burst.
At midnight, Sir Erik was standing there mute,
With two pallid corses beside his cold foot:
He stood stiff and still; and when morning-light came,
He stood, like a post, without life in his frame.
The youth and the maid were together interr'd,
Sir Erik could not from his posture be stirr'd:
He stood there, as stiffly, for thirty long days,
And look'd on the earth with a petrified gaze.
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