“’My love is foiled,
My rooftree rent,
Mine honour soiled,
In exile sent! 
We turn from earth,
On ocean dwell,
But, joy and mirth,
Farewell, farewell!’”

                              TEGNER, Frithiof Saga (Spalding’s tr.).

After thus parting from his native land, Frithiof took up the life of a pirate, rover, or viking, whose code was never to settle anywhere, to sleep on his shield, to fight and neither give nor take quarter, to protect the ships which paid him tribute and sack the others, and to distribute all the booty to his men, reserving for himself nothing but the glory of the enterprise.  Sailing and fighting thus, Frithiof visited many lands, and came to the sunny isles of Greece, whither he would fain have carried Ingeborg as his bride; but wherever he went and whatever he did, he was always haunted by the recollection of his beloved and of his native land.

[Sidenote:  At the court of Sigurd Ring.] Overcome at last by homesickness, Frithiof returned northward, determined to visit Sigurd Ring’s court and ascertain whether Ingeborg was really well and happy.  Steering his vessel up the Vik (the main part of the Christiania-Fiord), he intrusted it to Bjoern’s care, and alone, on foot, and enveloped in a tattered mantle, which he used as disguise, he went to the court of Sigurd Ring, arriving there just as the Yuletide festivities were being held.  As if in reality nothing more than the aged beggar he appeared, Frithiof sat down upon the bench near the door, where he became the butt of the courtiers’ rough jokes; but when one of his tormentors approached too closely he caught him in his powerful grasp and swung him high above his head.

Terrified by this proof of great strength, the courtiers silently withdrew, while Sigurd Ring invited the old man to remove his mantle, take a seat beside him, and share his good cheer.  Frithiof accepted the invitation thus cordially given, and when he had laid aside his squalid outward apparel all started with surprise to see a handsome warrior, richly clad, and adorned with a beautiful ring.

    “Now from the old man’s stooping head is loosed the sable hood,
     When lo! a young man smiling stands, where erst the old one stood. 
     See!  From his lofty forehead, round shoulders broad and strong,
     The golden locks flow glistening, like sunlight waves along.

    “He stood before them glorious in velvet mantle blue,
     His baldrics broad, with silver worked, the artist’s skill did shew;
     For round about the hero’s breast and round about his waist,
     The beasts and birds of forest wild, embossed, each other chased.

    “The armlet’s yellow luster shone rich upon his arm;
     His war sword by his side—­in strife a thunderbolt alarm. 
     Serene the hero cast his glance around the men of war;
     Bright stood he there as Balder, as tall as Asa Thor.” 
                              TEGNER, Frithiof Saga (Spalding’s tr.).