He made his charger leap and spring,
He slew the twelve all in a ring.
Sir Vonved, look about thee!
He slew the witches as they stood,
From him they got right little good;
He slew his mother with them all,
Cut her in thousand pieces small.
Sir Vonved, look about thee!
In his hall sits Vonved bold,
He drinks the wine so clear and cold;
He played on his gold harp so long,
That all the strings asunder sprang.
Sir Vonved, look about thee![1]
CHAPTER VI.
It was a charming spring day when I first left Hamburg. I can still see how in the harbour the golden sunrays gleamed on the tarry bellies of the ships, and think I still hear the joyous, long-drawn Ho-i-ho! of the sailors. Such a port in spring-time has a pleasant similarity with the feelings of a youth who goes for the first time out into the world on the great ocean of life. All his thoughts are gaily variegated, pride swells every
- ↑ The Sphynx story appears to have been strangely reproduced in many forms among the Northern races. In the Edda there is a game of questions and answers, ending in the petrifaction of a defeated troll. In the Hervor's Saga, King Heidrek puts riddles to Odin in disguise, and loses his life in consequence of breaking the conditions of the game. Several of
