OLAF the King, one summer morn, Blew a blast on his bugle-horn, Sending his signal through the land of Drontheim. And to the Hus-Ting held at Mere Gathered the farmers far and near, With their war weapons ready to confront him. Ploughing under the morning star, Old Iron-Beard in Yriar Heard the summons, chuckling with a low laugh. He wiped the sweat-drops from his brow, Unharnessed his horses from the plough, And clattering came on horseback to King Olaf. He was the churliest of the churls; Little he cared for king or earls; Bitter as home-brewed ale were his foaming passions. Hodden-gray was the garb he wore, swore; "Such sacrifices shalt thou bring, To Odin and to Thor, O King, As other kings have done in their devotion!" King Olaf answered: "I command This land to be a Christian land; Here is my Bishop who the folk baptizes! "But if you ask me to restore Your sacrifices, stained with gore, Then will I offer human sacrifices! "Not slaves and peasants shall they be, But men of note and high degree, Such men as Orm of Lyra and Kar of Gryting!" Then to their Temple strode he in, And loud behind him heard the din Of his men-at-arms and the peasants fiercely fighting. There in the Temple, carved in wood, King Olaf smote them with the blade And downward shattered to the pavement flung them. At the same moment rose without, From the contending crowd, a shout, A mingled sound of triumph and of wailing. And there upon the trampled plain The farmer Iron-Beard lay slain, Midway between the assailed and the assailing. King Olaf from the doorway spoke: "Choose ye between two things, my folk, To be baptized or given up to slaughter!" And seeing their leader stark and dead, The people with a murmur said, "O King, baptize us with thy holy water!" Like the drifting snow she sweeps His eyes meet hers. "What is that," King Olaf said, "Tis the bodkin that I wear "Forests have ears, and fields have eyes; Often treachery lurking lies Ere the earliest peep of morn Bridegroom and bride! IX. THANGBRAND THE PRIEST. SHORT of stature, large of limb, All the prayers he knew by rote, A man of mark, Was this Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. Would drink and swear, Swaggering Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. In his house this malcontent Could the King no longer bear, So to Iceland he was sent To convert the heathen there, One summer day Sailed this Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. There in Iceland, o'er their books Is waste of time!" Came the Scalds and Saga-men; That they quarrelled now and then, Drunken Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest? Boasted of their island grand; Iceland is the finest land Doth shine upon!" Loud laughed Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. And he answered: "What's the use Of this bragging up and down, When three women and one goose Make a market in your town!" Every Scald Satires scrawled On poor Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. Something worse they did than that; And what vexed him most of all Was a figure in shovel hat, Drawn in charcoal on the wall; "This is Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest." Hardly knowing what he did, Then he smote them might and main, Thorvald Veile and Veterlid Lay there in the alehouse slain. "To-day we are gold, To-morrow mould!" Muttered Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. Much in fear of axe and rope, Back to Norway sailed he then. "O, King Olaf! little hope Is there of these Iceland men!" With bending head, X.-RAUD THE STRONG. "ALL the old gods are dead, All the wild warlocks fled; But the White Christ lives and reigns, But still in dreams of the night Said Sigurd the Bishop. "Far north in the Salten Fiord, Lives the Viking, Raud the Strong; "A warlock, a wizard is he, Here the sign of the cross made "With rites that we both abhor, Then King Olaf cried aloud: XI. BISHOP SIGURD AT SALTEN FIORD. LOUD the angry wind was wailing To the mouth of Salten Fiord. Of the champions there on board. Raud the Strong was wont to ride. When the flood-gates open wide. ""Tis the warlock! 'tis the demon Raud!" cried Sigurd to the seamen ; "But the Lord is not affrighted By the witchcraft of his foes." High amid the rain and mist. Steadily rowed King Olaf's ships; Steadily burned all night the tapers, And the White Christ through the vapours Gleamed across the Fiord of Salten, As through John's Apocalypse,Till at last they reached Raud's dwelling On the little isle of Gelling; Not a guard was at the doorway, Not a glimmer of light was seen. But at anchor, carved and gilded, Lay the dragon-ship he builded; 'Twas the grandest ship in Norway, With its crests and scales of green. Up the stairway, softly creeping, Bolt and bar that held the door. Drunken with sleep and ale they found him, Dragged him from his bed and bound him, While he stared with stupid wonder, At the look and garb they wore. Then King Olaf said: "O Sea-King! Little time have we for speaking, Choose between the good and evil: Be baptized, or thou shalt die!" But in scorn the heathen scoffer Answered: "I disdain thine offer; Neither fear I God nor Devil; Thee and thy Gospel I defy!" Then between his jaws distended, When his frantic struggles ended, Through King Olaf's horn an adder, Touched by fire, they forced to glide. Sharp his tooth was as an arrow, row; But without a groan or shudder, Raud the Strong blaspheming died. Up the streams of Salten Fiord. Preached the Gospel with his sword. Then he took the carved and gilded Dragon-ship that Raud had builded, And the tiller single-handed, Grasping, steered into the main. Southward sailed the sea-gulls o'er him, Southward sailed the ship that bore him, Till at Drontheim haven landed Olaf and his crew again. XII. KING OLAF'S CHRISTMAS. As he sat in his banquet-hall, |