k, he only can restore
My cherished bride."

Then Frithiof kissed the youthful monarch on the brow in farewell, and,
turning from the assembly, he silently and slowly passed from view.

Frithiof at his Father's Grave

From the home of King Ring Frithiof fared to seek his father's grave in
his own loved land. As he neared the shore, he looked upon it with
joy. How brightly the sun shone, smiling like a friend as its soft
rays touched the branches of the forest! The dewdrops reflected the
light as perfectly as the great ocean. The mountains were aglow with
crimson light as the sun slowly sank in the west.

On every side Frithiof saw the well-known places he loved as a child.
The same sweet beauty graced the valleys, the same birds were filling
the woods with song. He visited the stream in which he strove as a
swimmer bold, and he found the birch trees with their white bark, on
which he had carved his name so long ago.

All seemed unchanged. But when he looked for Framness, that royal home
of his father, he found it not. And Balder's shrine was gone; both
destroyed by fire and sword. No more the pious pilgrim came to
Balder's grove, for wild beasts roamed where once the sacred temple
stood. Although Frithiof had suffered so long, his grief was even
stronger than before, when he saw the ruined temple. He repaired next
day to the grave of his father, the brave Thorsten, where he prayed to
the gods:--

"Is there no way by which I may obtain pardon for my offence? Will the
blue-eyed god, kind Balder, refuse forgiveness when man pardons man who
asks for pardon? Command any sacrifice and I will perform it. No evil
will had I in the burning of thy shrine. Tis the only stain upon my
shield. I pray thee, remove it and make my shield spotless. Cannot an
upright life repair a moment's fault?

"Here is my father's grave. He has gone where there are no tears, and
he rejoices in the company of noble heroes. O father, hear my prayer!
Not for renown in war I pray, but for forgiveness. Take my plea to
heaven. No rest have noble minds if unforgiven. Will you not send me
some message, some token, some sign that you hear and answer my prayer?
The waves are resounding on the shore; can you not speak through them?
The storm flies by, bounding on swift pinions; will you not whisper to
me in the storm?--No answer?"

As Frithiof prayed, the storm passed by. The sun sank in golden
splendour. Over hill an