There in Iceland, o'er their books Nor the songs they used to write. Is waste of time!" Grumbled Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. To the alehouse, where he sat, Came the Scalds and Saga-men; That they quarrelled now and then, Drunken Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest? Boasted of their island grand; Saying in a single word, "Iceland is the finest land 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, And Sigurd the Bishop said, Said Sigurd the Bishop. "Far north in the Salten Fiord, By rapine, fire, and sword, Lives the Viking, Raud the Strong; To him and his heathen horde." "A warlock, a wizard is he, By his craft in sorcery. Here the sign of the cross made "With rites that we both abhor, Said Sigurd the Bishop. Then King Olaf cried aloud: XI. BISHOP SIGURD AT SALTEN FIORD. LOUD the angry wind was wailing To the mouth of Salten Fiord. Though the flying sea-spray drenches Fore and aft the rowers' benches, Not a single heart is craver 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. ""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. Then baptized they all that region, Swarthy Lap and fair Norwegian, Far as swims the salmon, leaping, Up the streams of Salten Fiord. In their temples Thor and Odin Lay in dust and ashes trodden, As King Olaf, onward sweeping, 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, Three days his Yule-tide feasts And his horn filled up to the brim; O'er his drinking horn, the sign As he drank, and muttered his But the Berserks evermore Made the sign of the Hammer of Thor Over theirs. The gleams of the fire-light dance Upon helmet and hauberk and lance, And laugh in the eyes of the King; And he cries to Halfred the Scald, Gray-bearded, wrinkled, and bald, "Sing! "Sing me a song divine, With a sword in every line, And this shall be thy reward." And he loosened the belt at his waist, And in front of the singer placed His sword. "Quern-biter of Hakon the Good, Wherewith at a stroke he hewed The millstone through and through, And Foot-breadth of Thoralf the Strong, Were neither so broad nor so long, Nor so true." Then the Scald took his harp and sang, And loud through the music rang The sound of that shining word; And the harp-strings a clangour made, As if they were struck with the blade Of a sword. And the Berserks round about That made the rafters ring; But the King said, "O my son, Of thy measures and thy rhymes." And Halfred the Scald replied, "In another 'twas multiplied Three times." Then King Olaf raised the hilt Of iron, cross-shaped and gilt, And said, "Do not refuse; XIII. THE BUILDING OF THE LONG THORBERG SKAFTING, master-builder, 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 clamoured; Whirred the wheels, that into rigging All this tumult heard the master,- Fancy whispered all the faster, As Olaf came riding, with men in mail, Through the forest roads into Orkadale, Demanding Jarl Hakon Of Thora, the fairest of women. "Rich and honoured shall be whoever The head of Hakon Jarl shall dis sever!" Hakon heard him, and Karker the slave, Through the breathing-holes of the darksome cave. Alone in her chamber Wept Thora, the fairest of women. Said Karker, the crafty, "I will not slay thee! For all the King's gold I will never betray thee!" "Then why dost thou turn so pale, O churl, And then again black as the earth?" Isaid the Earl. More pale and more faithful Was Thora, the fairest of women. From a dream in the night the thrall started, saying, "Round my neck a gold ring King Olaf was laying!" And Hakon answered, the King! "Beware of He will lay round thy neck a blood-red ring." At the ring on her finger Gazed Thora, the fairest of women. At daybreak slept Hakon, with sorrows encumbered, But screamed and drew up his feet as he slumbered; The thrall in the darkness plunged with his knife, And the Earl awakened no more in this life. But wakeful and weeping Sat Thora, the fairest of women. At Nidarholm the priests are all singing, Two ghastly heads on the gibbet are swinging; One is Jarl Hakon's and one is his thrall's, And the people are shouting from windows and walls; While alone in her chamber women. But Olaf the King had sued for her hand, The sword would be sheathed, the river be spanned. Her maidens were seated around her knee, Working bright figures in tapestry. And one was singing the ancient rune Of Brynhilda's love and the wrath of Gudrun. And through it, and round it, and over it all Sounded incessant the waterfall. The Queen in her hand held a ring of gold, From the door of Ladé's Temple old. King Olaf had sent her this wedding gift, But her thoughts as arrows were keen and swift. She had given the ring to her gold smiths twain, Who smiled, as they handed it back again. And Sigrid the Queen, in her haughty She only murmured, she did not speak: "If in his gifts he can faithless be, There will be no gold in his love to me." A footstep was heard on the outer stair, And in strode King Olaf with royal air. He kissed the Queen's hand, and he whispered of love, And swore to be true as the stars are above. But she smiled with contempt as she answered: "O King, Will you swear it, as Odin once swore, on the ring?" And the King: "O speak not of Odin With their caps of darkness hooded: Magic circles to encumber Olaf the King, As he helpless lies in slumber. |