(15)
“She has gone, with the glitter of ocean
Agleam on her wrist and her bosom,
And my heart follows hard on her footsteps,
For the hall is in darkness without her.
I have gazed, but my glances can pierce not
The gloom of the desolate dwelling;
And fierce is my longing to find her,
The fair one who only can heal me.”
After a while he came to the outhouse where Steingerd was, and burst it
open and had talk with her.
“This is madness,” cried she, “to come talking with me; for Thorveig's
sons are meant to have thy head.”