In a white-heat of wrath and sorrow Frithjof starts out to
call her perjured brothers to account. He finds them in the temple in
Balder's Grove, preparing for the sacrifice. There he flings the bag
containing the tribute into King Helge's face, knocking out his front
teeth, and observing on his wife's arm the ring with which he had once
pledged Ingeborg, he rushes at her to recover it. The woman, who had
been warming the wooden image of Balder before the fire, drops, in her
fright, the idol into the flame. Frithjof seizes her by the arm and
snatches the ring from her. In the general confusion that follows the
temple takes fire, and all attempts to quench the flames are futile. In
consequence of this sacrilege Frithjof is outlawed at the _Thing_ as a
_vargr-i-veum_, _i.e._, wolf in the sanctuary, and is forced to go into
exile. His farewell to his native land strikes one as being altogether
out of tune. The old Norse viking is made to anticipate sentiments which
are of far later growth; but for all that the verses are quite stirring:
"Brow of creation,
Thou North sublime!
I have no station
Within thy clime.
Pages:
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349