'Who went head over heels into a glacier-crack, and was dug out of fifty feet of snow, and had to be put inside a fresh-killed horse before he could be brought to life ?' 'Not you, surely,' said Pelagia.

'Oh, you wonderful creature! what things you have done and suffered!' 'Well,' said the Amal, with a look of stolid self-satisfaction, 'I suppose I have seen a good deal in my time, eh ?' 'Yes, my Hercules, you have gone through your twelve labours, and saved your poor little Hesione after them all, when she was chained to the rock, for the ugly sea-monsters to eat; and she will cherish you, and keep you out of scrapes now, for her own sake;' and Pelagia threw her arms round the great bull-neck, and drew it down to her.
'Will you hear my saga ?' said Wulf impatiently.
'Of course we will,' said the Amal; 'anything to pass the time.' 'But let it be about snow,' said Agilmund.
'Not about Alruna-wives ?' 'About them, too,' said Goderic; 'my mother was one, so I must needs stand up for them.' 'She was, boy.

Do you be her son.

Now hear, Wolves of the Goths!' And the old man took up his little lute, or as he would probably have called it, 'fidel,' and began chanting to his own accompaniment.
Over the camp fires Drank I with heroes, Under the Donau bank Warm in the snow-trench, Sagamen heard I there, Men of the Longbeards, Cunning and ancient, Honey-sweet-voiced.

Scaring the wolf-cub, Scaring the horn-owl out, Shaking the snow-wreaths Down from the pine-boughs, Up to the star-roof Rang out their song.