the robber had buried
Himself with his ship, and. his treasure, deep on the far coast of Britain. 
Pleasure or quiet he found not, a ghost was his irksome companion. 
Hearing the rumor, Thorstein with Bele the dragon ship mounted,
Dashed through the foaming waves, straight to the place of the sepulcher
steering. 
Wide as a temple’s arch, or a king’s gateway, bedded in gravel,
Covered with grassy turf, arched to the top, the tomb rose forbidding. 
Light issued from it.  Through a small crevice within the closed portal,
Peered the two champions.  There the pitched viking ship
Stood with its masts, its yards and its anchor.  High in the stern sheets
Was seated a terrible figure, clad in a mantle all flaming,
Furious demon scouring a blade that with blood spots was covered. 
Vain was his labor, naught could remove them.  All his rich booty
Round him was scattered, and on his arm was the ring he had stolen.

“Go we,” said Bele, “down thither and fight with the hideous goblin,
Two ’gainst a spirit of fire.”  But Thorstein half angrily answered: 
“One against one is the rule of our fathers.  I fight well singly.” 
Long they contended which first of the two the encounter should venture,
Proving the perilous journey.  Bele at last took his helmet,
Shaking two lots therein.  Watched by the stars Thorstein saw by their shimmer
His was the lot first appearing.  A blow from his javelin of iron
Cleft the huge bolts and strong locks.  He descended.  Did any one question
What was revealed in the cavern, then was he silent and shuddered. 
Bele at first heard strange music.  It rang like the song of a goblin;
Then was a clattering noise, like the clashing of blades in a combat,
Lastly a hideous shriek,—­then silence.  Out staggered Thorstein,
Confounded, bewildered, all pale was his face, for with death had he battled;
Yet bore he the arm-ring a trophy. “’Twas dear bought,” he often said
frowning;
“Once in my life was I frightened; ’twas when I recovered that arm-ring.” 
Widely renowned was that ring, and of rings was the chief in the Northland.

Lastly the ship, called Ellide, was one of the family jewels. 
Viking, so say they, returning triumphant from venturesome journeys,
Sailed along coasting near Framness.  There he espied on a shipwreck,
Carelessly swinging, a sailor, sporting as ’twere with the billows. 
Noble of figure, tall in his stature, joyful his visage,
Changeable too, like the waves of the sea when they sport ill the sunshine,—­
Blue was his mantle, golden his girdle and studded with corals;
Sea-green his hair, but his beard was as white as the foam of the ocean. 
Viking his serpent steered thither to rescue the unfortunate stranger,—­
Took him half frozen to Framness, and there as a guest entertained him. 
When by his host to repose he was bidden, smiling he answered: