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.
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