THE COLLECTED POEMS OF HENRIK IBSEN Translated by John ...

65
Then must the speedy charger
Show well its turn of pace;
For Hunding’s men right swiftly
Take up the hero’s chase.
As wolf-packs howl pursuing
The nimble reindeer’s trail,
Even so the band of heroes
Press on up hill down dale.
“Away!” the cry goes sounding,
“We’ll have him in a while!”
But to the last it’s Helge
Who heads the chasing file.
He enters Hagal’s presence
And tells what he has done;
“Your life”, replies the elder,
“Deserves more heed my son!”
“But you can still be rescued,
Waste no time talking here,
Get dressed for their arrival
In skirt and women’s gear!”
“And if young Helge’s swaddled
In bondmaid skirts this way,
His sword shall do the thanking
For this fine game some day!”
And then in strides a warrior,
Soon more and more in turn;
There in the cool a woman
Stands grinding at the quern.
But none of the retainers
Saw Helge pass that day; —
His steed would have been nimble,
Too fleet of foot they say.
Bright sparklets flashed and glittered
From round the quern-stone’s span;
“That wench has fore-arms on her,
She should have been a man!
“Now tell me, what’s your breeding,
A strapping lass like you?”
“Till Hagal took me captive
I was a shield-maid true.”