And speedily they to the ocean bore

The anchor and cable, and sail and oar.

Saint Oluf he stood on the prow when on board: 'Now forward, thou Ox, in the name of the Lord." He grappled the Ox by the horn so white: 66 Hie now, as if thou went clover to bite!"

Then forward the Ox began to hie,

In his wake stood the billows boisterously. He hallooed to the lad on the yard so high: "Do we the Dragon of Harald draw nigh?"

"No more of the pomps of the world I see
Than the uppermost top of the good oak-tree.
I see near the land of Norroway skim
Bright silken sails with a golden rim.

"I see 'neath Norroway's mountains proud
The Dragon bearing of sail a cloud.
I see, I see, by Norroway's side,
The Dragon gallantly forward stride."

On the Ox's ribs a blow he gave: "Now faster! now faster! over the wave!" He struck the Ox on the eye with force: "To the haven much speedier thou must course."

Then forward the Ox began to leap,
No sailor on deck his stand could keep.
Then cords he took, and his mariners fast
He tied to the vessel's rigging and mast.

'Twas then-'twas then-the steersman cried:

"But who shall now the vessel guide?"

His little gloves off Saint Oluf throws,
And to stand himself by the rudder he goes.

"Oh, we will sail o'er cliff and height,
The nearest way, like a line of light!"
So o'er the hills and dales they career,
To them they became like water clear.

So they sailed along o'er the mountains blue,
Then out came running the Elfin crew.

"Who sails over the gold in which we joy? Our ancient father who dares annoy?"

"Elf, turn to stone, and a stone remain
Till I by this path return again!"

So they sailed o'er Skaaney's mountains tall,
And stones became the little Elves all.

Out came a carline with spindle and rock:
"Saint Oluf! why sailest thou us to mock?
Saint Oluf, thou who the red beard hast!
Through my chamber wall thy ship hath passed."

With a glance of scorn did Saint Oluf say:
"Stand there a flint-rock forever and aye."
Unhindered, unhindered they bravely sailed on,
Before them yielded both stock and stone.

Still onward they sailed in such gallant guise,
That no man upon them could fasten his eyes.
Saint Oluf a bow before his knee bent,
Behind the sail dropped the shaft that he sent.

From the stern Saint Oluf a barb shot free,
Behind the Ox fell the shaft in the sea.

Saint Oluf he trusted in Christ alone,

And therefore first home by three days he won.

And that made Harald with fury storm,

Of a laidly dragon he took the form.
But the Saint was a man of devotion full,
And the Saint got Norroway's land to rule.

Into the church Saint Oluf trode,

He thanked the Saviour in fervent mood.

Saint Oluf walked the church about,

There shone a glory his ringlets out.

Whom God doth help makes bravely his way,
His enemies win both shame and dismay.

[loathsome

THE ELECTED KNIGHT.

(Translated by H. W. Longfellow.)

SIR OLUF he rideth over the plain,

Full seven miles broad and seven miles wide; But never, ah! never, can meet with the man A tilt with him dare ride.

He saw under the hill-side

A knight full-well equipped;

His steel was black, his helm was barred;

He was riding at full speed.

He wore upon his spurs

Twelve little golden birds;

Anon he spurred his steed with a clang,
And there sat all the birds and sang.

He wore upon his mail

Twelve little golden wheels;

Anon in eddies the wild wind blew,

And round and round the wheels they flew.

He wore before his breast

A lance that was poised in rest,
And it was sharper than diamond-stone;
It made Sir Oluf's heart to groan.

He wore upon his helm

A wreath of ruddy gold:

And that gave him the Maidens Three,
The youngest was fair to behold.

Sir Oluf questioned the knight eftsoon
If he were come from heaven down;
"Art thou Christ of Heaven?" quoth he,
"So will I yield me unto thee."

"I am not Christ the Great,

Thou shalt not yield thee yet;

I am an Unknown Knight,

Three modest Maidens have me bedight."

"Art thou a knight elected?

And have three maidens thee bedight?
So shalt thou ride a tilt this day,
For all the maidens' honor!"

The first tilt they together rode,

They put their steeds to the test;
The second tilt they together rode,
They proved their manhood best.

The third tilt they together rode,
Neither of them would yield;
The fourth tilt they together rode,
They both fell on the field.

Now lie the lords upon the plain,

And their blood runs unto death;
Now sit the Maidens in the high tower,
The youngest sorrows till death.

JOHANNES EVALD.

A SOLDIER in youth, a dramatist in later life, Evald is best known to fame as a lyrical poet. His song of "King Christian," written for his drama of "Fiskerne," The Fishermen, has become the national anthem of Denmark. Born at Copenhagen in 1743, Evald ran away from the University and spent a year in the Prussian and Austrian armies. Returning to Copenhagen, he wrote for the stage. His chief tragedies are "Rolf Krage" and "Balder's Död," Balder's Death. attempt at a new "Hamlet" was less successful.

KING CHRISTIAN.

KING CHRISTIAN stood by the lofty mast

In mist and smoke;

His sword was hammering so fast,

Through Gothic helm and brain it passed;
Then sank each hostile hulk and mast

In mist and smoke.

"Fly!" shouted they, "fly, he who can!
Who braves of Denmark's Christian

The stroke?"

His

Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar;
Now is the hour!

He hoisted his blood-red flag once more,
And smote upon the foe full sore,

And shouted loud, through the tempest's roar,
"Now is the hour!"

"Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter fly!
Of Denmark's Juel who can defy
The power?"

North Sea! a glimpse of Wessel rent

Thy murky sky!

Then champions to thine arms were sent ;
Terror and Death glared where he went;
From the waves was heard a wail that rent

Thy murky sky!

From Denmark thunders Tordenskiol'; *
Let each to Heaven commend his soul,
And fly!

Path of the Dane to fame and might!
Dark-rolling wave!

Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight,
Goes to meet danger with despite,
Proudly as thou the tempest's might,
Dark-rolling wave!

And, amid pleasures and alarms,

And war and victory, be thine arms
My grave!

* "Tordenskiold," Tnunder-shield, was the sobriquet of Admiral Wessel.