nd well upon my legs without the help
of the rock. Now I am all unmeet for fight."

"Yet shall this last stand of thine be sung of!" says Skallagrim.

Now finding none to stay them, the men of Gizur climb one by one upon
the rock and win the space that is beyond. Swanhild goes first of all,
because she knows well that Eric will not harm her, and after her come
Gizur and the others. But many do not come, for they will lift sword no
more.

Now Swanhild draws near and looks on Eric and mocks him in the
fierceness of her heart and the rage of her wolf-love.

"Now," she says, "now are Brighteyes dim eyes! What! weepest thou,
Eric?"

"Ay, Swanhild," he answered, "I weep tears of blood for those whom thou
hast brought to doom."

She draws nearer and speaks low to him: "Hearken, Eric. Yield thee! Thou
hast done enough for honour, and thou art not smitten to the death of
yonder cowardly hound. Yield and I will nurse thee back to health and
bear thee hence, and together we will forget our hates and woes."

"Not twice may a man lie in a witch's bed," said Eric, "and my troth is
plighted to other than thee, Swanhild."

"She is dead," says Swanhild.

"Yes, she is dead, Swanhild; and I go to seek her amongst the dead--I go
to seek her and to find her!"

But the face of Swanhild grew fierce as the winter sea.

"Thou hast put me away for the last time, Eric! Now thou shalt die, as I
have promised thee and as I promised Gudruda the Fair!"

"So shall I the more quickly find Gudruda and lose sight of thy evil
face, Swanhild the harlot! Swanhild the murderess! Swanhild the witch!
For I know this: thou shalt not escape!--thy doom draws on also!--and
haunted and accursed shalt thou be for ever! Fare thee well, Swanhild;
we shall meet no more, and the hour comes when thou shalt grieve that
thou wast ever born!"

Now Swanhild turned and called to the folk: "Come, cut down these outlaw
rogues and make an end. Come, cut them down, for night draws on."

Then once more the men of Gizur closed in upon them. Eric smote thrice
and thrice the blow went home, then he could smite no more, for his
strength was spent with toil and wounds, and he sank upon the ground.
For a while Skallagrim stood over him like a she-bear o'er her young
and held the mob at bay. Then Gizur, watching, cast a spear at Eric. It
entered his side through a cleft in his byrnie and pierced him deep.

"I am sped, Skallagrim Lambstail," cried Eric in a loud voice, a