day and Merglad in _Corpus Poeticum Boreale_, I, 92 _seq_., and
Thorstan's Song of Helgi and Sigrun is a partial version of that epic
(_ibid_. 131).

GUDRID THE FAIR

I

Thorbeorn was old when this tale begins. His face was lean, his beard
was grey, he stooped somewhat in the saddle. But he had a fiery mind,
a high spirit, and was so rich, or believed so, that men said he could
buy off Death more likely than any other man, seeing he would neither
fail of hardihood nor money.

By this time, old age apart, he had done very well for himself, having
not only buried a wife, but married another; having not only seen three
sons out into the world and become a grandfather twice over; but having
had also, by his second wife, whose name was Hollweg, a daughter, and
an estate of Bathbrink which could be hers by and by, if he so pleased.
This daughter was by name Gudrid, and by all men's consent Gudrid the
Fair. Iceland has always been famous for handsome women; but three are
chiefly commemorated as "the Fair." The first is Gudrun, who was
daughter of Oswif; but she was now old. The second is Stangerd,
daughter of Thorkel of Tongue, and at this time the wife of
Battle-Berse of Sowerby in the north-west parts. This Gudrid,
Thorbeorn's daughter, is the third, and was, at the moment, of
marriageable age, being full fifteen years old.

She was a tall girl, well and beautifully made, with carriage so
graceful and look so courteous that men used to stop in the road and
gaze after her as she walked. Her hair was very nearly black, and made
a plait which she could easily sit upon. She was no talker, but had
the best of manners, whereby it happened that those who talked with her
were eloquent and believed that she had been so. She had a beautiful
voice and notable skill in singing. Men heard her songs, and rushed
out into the dark emulous of desperate work, and the sooner the better,
to deserve well of her. Thorbeorn was very proud of her; but it had
been her mother's work to have her carefully trained. If she had lived
this tale might not have been written; but she did not. She died a
year before it begins, and left her old husband to a peck of troubles.

Thorbeorn was the last man to cope with trouble. He was too proud, too
vain, and too idle--too proud to confide, too vain to accept, too idle
to repair. He had always kept a great table and had a hall full of
guests. He had them still, though he had not the