Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/125

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LAYS OF MANY LANDS.
119


"The morning wind blows free,
And the reddening sun shines clear;
Come forth, come forth, with me!
It is dark and fearful here!"


"He is there, he is there, with his shadowy frown!
But gone from his head is the kingly crown,
The crown from his head, and the spear from his hand,—
They have chas'd him far from the glorious land
      Where the feast of the gods is spread!

"He must go forth alone on his phantom steed,
He must ride o'er the grave-hills with stormy speed;
His place is no longer at Odin's board,
He is driven from Valhalla without his sword!
      But the slayer shall avenge the dead!"

That sword its fame had won
By the fall of many a crest,
But its fiercest work was done
In the tomb, on Sigurd's breast!

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