will the memory of my love With absence fainter grow?

"Canst thou spare a tear, sweet Osla, When I sail from this fair
land? Wilt thou dream of Vandrad sometimes When the waves boom on
the strand? Can visions of a pleasant hour The march of time
withstand?

"Osla, when I bear me bravely, 'Midst the lightning of the sword,
And the armies meet like torrents When the mountain snows have
thawed The thought of thine approving smile Shall be my sole
reward.

"Fare thee well, sweet blue-eyed Osla! The sea-king must not stay,
E'en for tresses rich as summer And for smile as bright as May;
But one hope I cannot part from--We may meet again some day!"

"Then are you going?" she said, more softly than he had ever heard
her speak before.

"Do you wish me to stay?"

"Not if you wish to rove the seas again, and fight and plunder, as
a brave man should," she cried with a flash of raillery. "If it is
your fate to go, why should I stand in the way? Am I anything to
you?"

She gave him no time to answer, but rose and ran lightly away.