Frithiof's Viking Life
Thus Frithiof became a viking, the sea his only home; and these are the
laws he made for his followers:
"Pitch no tent on thy ship; seek no slumber below. On his shield
sleeps the viking, his sword in his hand. His tent is the blue dome of
heaven.
"Short be thy sword, like the hammer of Thor; strike close to the foe.
"When the storm roars on high, spread wider the sails: The sea in its
wrath fills the viking with joy; a coward is he who would furl.
"Wine is drink of the gods. Enjoy thou the gift, but drown not thy
senses--beware! He who falls on the land rises quickly again; who
staggers here is the death-goddess' prey!
"Protect the merchant ship on the high seas so due tribute it doth not
refuse. Thou art lord of the waves; he's a slave to his pelf. Thy
steel is as good as his gold. By lot shall the booty be shared among
all; complain not however it falls. The Sea King himself throws no
dice on the deck; he seeks only glory from his foes.
"Heaves a viking in sight, then come boarding and strife; from us he
is banished who yields. Mercy fits him who conquers; he who lays down
his arms at thy feet is no longer thy foe.
"Prayer is Valhalla's child, and a scoundrel is he who, ruthless,
refuses to hear it.
"The viking's rewards are his wounds; before all, on the brow and the
breast are they glorious. He who seeketh ere issue of battle to bind
them no longer is comrade of viking."
Thus ran the code of Frithiof, and no laws of Odin were more strictly
obeyed. Many a battle did these heroes fight and win, for there was not
their like on all the seas; and soon their fame spread far and wide. But
naught of this had power to gladden Frithiof's heart; he would sit, helm
in hand, for hours with clouded brow, gazing out over the rolling
waters. Only in battle did the shadow vanish, as with flashing eyes and
fiercely swelling breast he led his men to victory.
For three years they sailed the seas northward and westward; then
turning south, his dragon anchored one day off the coast of Greek-land
(Greece). With wonder Frithiof gazed upon that beauteous land, with its
noble ruined temples rising amid fragrant groves. The tales his father
had been wont to tell of those fair isles still lingered in his memory
like some lovely vision--a dream that now was realized. Hither had he
once thought to flee with Ingeborg from the haughty Helge, here with her
to found an abode of bliss, but the noble maiden had denied his prayers
and shrunk from such a breach of duty and of custom. Amid these fair
scenes memories of his native land awoke afresh within him, and he
longed to see it once again. But most of all he yearned for a sight of
Ingeborg and to visit his father's grave-mound.
"Why do I linger here in strange seas and stain my hands with blood?" he
asked himself. "Enough of glory have I won, and I care not for gold.
North points the flag on the masthead. To the Northland the home of my
youth! Up, 'Ellida'! no longer we'll tarry, but follow that token from
Heaven!"