whose bright war-spears shine
And golden helms afar--so stood
This glitt'ring guard within the holy wood!

"Of granite blocks enormous, join'd with curious care
And daring art, the massy pile was built; and there
(A giant-work intended
To last till time was ended,)
It rose like Upsal's temple, where the north
Saw Valhall's halls fair imag'd here on earth.

"Proud stood it there on mountain-steep, its lofty brow
Reflected calmly on the sea's bright-flowing wave.
But round about, some girdle like of beauteous flow'rs,
Went Balder's Dale, with all its groves' soft-murmur'd sighs,
And all its birds' sweet-twitter'd songs,--the Home of Peace."

Tegner, Frithiof Saga (G. Stephens's tr.).

Meantime, while the timbers were being hewed, King Helge was absent
upon a foray amongst the Finnish mountains. One day it chanced that his
band passed by a crag where stood the lonely shrine of some forgotten
god, and King Helge scaled the rocky summit with intent to raze the
ruined walls. The lock held fast, and, as Helge tugged fiercely at
the mouldered gate, suddenly a sculptured image of the deity, rudely
summoned from his ancient sleep, started from his niche above.

Heavily he fell upon the head of the intruder, and Helge stretched
his length upon the rocky floor, nor stirred again.

When the temple was duly consecrated to Balder's service, Frithiof
stood by the altar to await the coming of his expected bride. But
Halfdan first crossed the threshold, his faltering gait showing
plainly that he feared an unfriendly reception. Seeing this,
Frithiof unbuckled his sword and strode frankly to Halfdan with hand
outstretched, whereupon the king, blushing deeply, grasped heartily
the proffered hand, and from that moment all their differences were
forgotten. The next moment Ingeborg approached and the renewed amity
of the long-sundered friends was ratified with the hand of the bride,
which Halfdan placed in that of his new brother.

"Over the copper threshold Halfdan now,
With pallid brow
And fearful fitful glance, advanceth slow
Tow'rds yonder tow'ring ever-dreaded foe--
And, silent, at a distance stands,--
Then Frithiof, with quick hands,
The corslet-hater, Angurvadel, from his thigh
Unbuckleth, and his bright shield's golden round
Leaning 'gainst the altar, thus draw