hows the melancholy of a ruined, wandering mind,
which will have its enigmas cleared up! The anguish of a man is
expressed therein, who cannot move freely the wings which he feels;
and, who, when this anguish torments him, is forced to deal out
destruction against all--even against his best-beloved. Such a
character seems to be quite the property of the North. In the strange
life of King Sigurd, the wanderer to Jerusalem, and likewise in
Shakspeare's Hamlet, there is something similar."

Svend Vonved sits in his lonely bower;
He strikes his harp with a hand of power;
His harp return'd a responsive din;
Then came his mother hurrying in:
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

In came his mother Adeline,
And who was she, but a queen, so fine:
"Now hark, Svend Vonved! out must thou ride,
And wage stout battle with knights of pride.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"Avenge thy father's untimely end;
To me, or another, thy gold harp lend;
This moment boune {f:8} thee, and straight begone!
I rede {f:9} thee, do it, my own dear son."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

Svend Vonved binds his sword to his side;
He fain will battle with knights of pride.
"When may I look for thee once more here?
When roast the heifer, and spice the beer?"
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"When stones shall take, of themselves, a flight,
And ravens' feathers are woxen {f:10} white,
Then may'st thou expect Svend Vonved home:
In all my days, I will never come."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

His mother took that in evil part:
"I hear, young gallant, that mad thou art;
Wherever thou goest, on land or sea,
Disgrace and shame shall attend on thee."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

He kiss'd her thrice, with his lips of fire:
"Appease, O mother, appease thine ire;
Ne'er wish me any mischance to know,
For thou canst not tell how far I may go."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"Then I will bless thee, this very day;
Thou never shalt perish in any fray;
Success shall be in thy courser tall;
Success in thyself, which is best of all.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"Success in thy hand, success in thy foot,
In struggle with man, in battle with brute;
The holy God and Saint Drotten {f:11} dear
Shall guide and watch thee through thy career.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"They both shall take thee beneath their care,
Then surely thou never shalt evily fare:
See yonder