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"O, King Olaf! little hope Is there of these Iceland men !" Meekly said,

With bending head,

Pious Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

Then King Olaf cried aloud:
"I will talk with this mighty Raud,
And along the Salten Fiord
Preach the Gospel with my sword,
Or be brought back in my shroud!"
So northward from Drontheim
Sailed King Olaf !

X.

RAUD THE STRONG.

"ALL the old gods are dead,
All the wild warlocks fled;

But the White Christ lives and reigns,
And throughout my wide domains
His Gospel shall be spread!"
On the Evangelists

Thus swore King Olaf.

But still in dreams of the night
Beheld he the crimson light,
And heard the voice that defied
Him who was crucified,
And challenged him to the fight.
To Sigurd the Bishop
King Olaf confessed it.

And Sigurd the Bishop said,
"The old gods are not dead,
For the great Thor still reigns,
And among the Jarls and Thanes
The old witchcraft still is spread."
Thus to King Olaf

Said Sigurd the Bishop.

"Far north in the Salten Fiord, By rapine, fire, and sword,

Lives the Viking, Raud the Strong;
All the Godoe Isles belong

To him and his heathen horde."
Thus went on speaking
Sigurd the Bishop.

"A warlock, a wizard is he,

And lord of the wind and the sea;
And whichever way he sails,
He has ever favoring gales,
By his craft in sorcery."

Here the sign of the cross
Made devoutly King Olaf.
"With rites that we both abhor,
He worships Odin and Thor;
So it cannot yet be said,
That all the old gods are dead,
And the warlocks are no more,"
Flushing with anger
Said Sigurd the Bishop.

XI.

BISHOP SIGURD AT SALTEN FIORD

LOUD the angry wind was wailing As King Olaf's ships came sailing Northward out of Drontheim haven

To the mouth of Salten Fiord.

Though the flying sea-spray drenches
Fore and aft the rowers' benches,
Not a single heart is craven

Of the champions there on board.

All without the Fiord was quiet,
But within it storm and riot,
Such as on his Viking cruises

Raud the Strong was wont to ride.

And the sea through all its tide-ways
Swept the reeling vessels sideways,
As the leaves are swept through sluices,
When the flood-gates open wide.

"'T is the warlock! 't is the demon
Raud!" cried Sigurd to the seamen :
But the Lord is not affrighted
By the witchcraft of his foes."

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To the ship's bow he ascended,
By his choristers attended,
Round him were the tapers lighted,
And the sacred incense rose.

On the bow stood Bishop Sigurd,
In his robes, as one transfigured,
And the Crucifix he planted

High amid the rain and mist.
Then with holy water sprinkled
All the ship; the mass-bells tinkled;
Loud the monks around him chanted,
Loud he read the Evangelist.

As into the Fiord they darted,
On each side the water parted;
Down a path like silver molten

Steadily rowed King Olaf's ships;

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Near him lay the Dragon stranded,

Built of old by Raud the Strong,
And King Olaf had commanded
He should build another Dragon,
Twice as large and long.

Therefore whistled Thorberg Skafting,
As he sat with half-closed eyes,
And his head turned sideways, drafting
That new vessel for King Olaf

Twice the Dragon's size.

Round him busily hewed and hammered Mallet huge and heavy axe; Workmen laughed and sang and clamored;

Whirred the wheels, that into rigging
Spun the shining flax!

All this tumult heard the master,
It was music to his ear;

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Fancy whispered all the faster,
Men shall hear of Thorberg Skafting
For a hundred year!"

Workmen sweating at the forges

Fashioned iron bolt and bar, Like a warlock's midnight orgies Smoked and bubbled the black caldron With the boiling tar.

Did the warlocks mingle in it,

Thorberg Skafting, any curse? Could you not be gone a minute But some mischief must be doing, Turning bad to worse?

'T was an ill wind that came wafting,
From his homestead words of woe
To his farm went Thorberg Skafting,
Oft repeating to his workmen,
Build ye thus and so.

After long delays returning

Came the master back by night. To his ship-yard longing, yearning, Hurried he, and did not leave it

Till the morning's light.

"Come and see my ship, my darling On the morrow said the King; "Finished now from keel to carling; Never yet was seen in Norway

Such a wondrous thing!

In the ship-yard, idly talking,

At the ship the workmen stared:

Some one, all their labor balking, Down her sides had cut deep gashes, Not a plank was spared!

"Death be to the evil-doer!

With an oath King Olaf spoke ; "But rewards to his pursuer ! And with wrath his face grew redder Than his scarlet cloak.

Straight the master-builder, smiling, Answered thus the angry King: "Cease blaspheming and reviling, Olaf, it was Thorberg Skafting

Who has done this thing!"

Then he chipped and smoothed the planking,

Till the King, delighted, swore, With much lauding and much thanking, "Handsomer is now my Dragon

Than she was before!"

Seventy ells and four extended

On the grass the vessel's keel; High above it, gilt and splendid, Rose the figure-head ferocious

With its crest of steel.

Then they launched her from the tressels,
In the ship-yard by the sea;

She was the grandest of all vessels,
Never ship was built in Norway
Half so fine as she!

The Long Serpent was she christened,
'Mid the roar of cheer on cheer!
They who to the Saga listened
Heard the name of Thorberg Skafting
For a hundred year!

XIV.

THE CREW OF THE LONG SERPENT.

SAFE at anchor in Drontheim bay
King Olaf's fleet assembled lay,

And, striped with white and blue, Downward fluttered sail and banner, As alights the screaming lanner; Lustily cheered, in their wild manner, The Long Serpent's crew

Her forecastle man was Ulf the Red Like a wolf's was his shaggy head,

His teeth as large and white; His beard, of gray and russet blended, Round as a swallow's nest descended; As standard-bearer he defended Olaf's flag in the fight.

Near him Kolbiorn had his place,
Like the King in garb and face,
So gallant and so hale;
Every cabin-boy and varlet
Wondered at his cloak of scarlet;
Like a river, frozen and star-lit,
Gleamed his coat of mail.

By the bulkhead, tall and dark,
Stood Thrand Rame of Thelemark,
A figure gaunt and grand;
On his hairy arm imprinted
Was an anchor, azure-tinted;
Like Thor's hammer, huge and dinted
Was his brawny hand.

Einar Tamberskelver, bare
To the winds his golden hair,

By the mainmast stood;
Graceful was his form, and slender,
And his eyes were deep and tender
As a woman's, in the splendor

Of her maidenhood.

In the fore-hold Biorn and Bork
Watched the sailors at their work:

Heavens how they swore!
Thirty men they each commanded,
Iron-sinewed, horny-handed,
Shoulders broad, and chests expanded,
Tugging at the oar.

These, and many more like these, With King Olaf sailed the seas,

Till the waters vast

Filled them with a vague devotion, With the freedom and the motion, With the roll and roar of ocean

And the sounding blast.

When they landed from the fleet, How they roared through Drontheim's street,

Boisterous as the gale! How they laughed and stamped and pounded,

Till the tavern roof resounded,
And the host looked on astounded
As they drank the ale!

Never saw the wild North Sea

XVI.

Such a gallant company

Sail its billows blue !

Never, while they cruised and quarrelled, Old King Gorm, or Blue-Tooth Harald, Owned a ship so well apparelled,

Boasted such a crew!

XV.

A LITTLE BIRD IN THE AIR.

A LITTLE bird in the air

Is singing of Thyri the fair,

The sister of Svend the Dane;
And the song of the garrulous bird
In the streets of the town is heard,
And repeated again and again.

Hoist up your sails of silk,
And flee away from each other.

To King Burislaf, it is said,
Was the beautiful Thyri wed,

And a sorrowful bride went she;
And after a week and a day,
She has fled away and away,
From his town by the stormy sea.
Hoist up your sails of silk,
And flee away from each other.

They say, that through heat and through
cold,
Through weald, they say, and through
wold,

By day and by night, they say,
She has fled; and the gossips report
She has come to King Olaf's court,
And the town is all in dismay.
Hoist up your sails of silk,
And flee away from each other.

It is whispered King Olaf has seen,
Has talked with the beautiful Queen;
And they wonder how it will end;
For surely, if here she remain,
It is war with King Svend the Dane,
And King Burislaf the Vend!

Hoist up your sails of silk,
And flee away from each other.

O, greatest wonder of all !
It is published in hamlet and hall,

It roars like a flame that is fanned! The King yes, Olaf the King Has wedded her with his ring, And Thyri is Queen in the land! Hoist up your sails of silk,

And flee away from each other.

QUEEN THYRI AND THE ANGELICA STALKS.

NORTHWARD Over Drontheim,
Flew the clamorous sea-gulls,
Sang the lark and linnet
From the meadows green;

Weeping in her chamber,
Lonely and unhappy,
Sat the Drottning Thyri,
Sat King Olaf's Queen.

In at all the windows
Streamed the pleasant sunshine,
On the roof above her

Softly cooed the dove;

But the sound she heard not,
Nor the sunshine heeded,
For the thoughts of Thyri

Were not thoughts of love.

Then King Olaf entered, Beautiful as morning, Like the sun at Easter

Shone his happy face;

In his hand he carried
Angelicas uprooted,
With delicious fragrance
Filling all the place.

Like a rainy midnight
Sat the Drottning Thyri,
Even the smile of Olaf

Could not cheer her gloom;

Nor the stalks he gave her With a gracious gesture, And with words as pleasant

As their own perfume.

In her hands he placed them,
And her jewelled fingers
Through the green leaves glistened
Like the dews of morn;

But she cast them from her,
Haughty and indignant,
On the floor she threw them
With a look of scorn.

"Richer presents," said she, "Gave King Harald Gormson

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