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 To the Queen, my mother,
Than such worthless weeds; "When he ravaged Norway, Laying waste the kingdom, Seizing scatt and treasure For her royal needs.
"But thou darest not venture Through the Sound to Vendland, My domains to rescue
From King Burislaf;
"Lest King Svend of Denmark, Forked Beard, my brother, Scatter all thy vessels
As the wind the chaff." Then up sprang King Olaf, Like a reindeer bounding, With an oath he answered
Thus the luckless Queen: "Never yet did Olaf Fear King Svend of Denmark; This right hand shall hale him By his forked chin!" Then he left the chamber, Thundering through the doorway, Loud his steps resounded
Down the outer stair. Smarting with the insult, Through the streets of Drontheim Strode he red and wrathful,
With his stately air. All his ships he gathered, Summoned all his forces, Making his war levy
In the region round; Down the coast of Norway, Like a flock of sea-gulls,
Sailed the fleet of Olaf
Through the Danish Sound. With his own hand fearless Steered he the Long Serpent, Strained the creaking cordage, Bent each boom and gaff; Till in Vendland landing, The domains of Thyri He redeemed and rescued From King Burislaf. Then said Olaf, laughing, "Not ten yoke of oxen Have the power to draw us
Like a woman's hair! "Now will I confess it, Better things are jewels Than angelica-stalks are For a Queen to wear."
KING SVEND OF THE FORKED BEARD.
LOUDLY the sailors cheered Svend of the Forked Beard, As with his fleet he steered
Southward to Vendland; Where with their courses hauled All were together called, Under the Isle of Svald' Near to the mainland. After Queen Gunhild's death, So the old Saga saith, Plighted King Svend his faith To Sigrid the Haughty; And to avenge his bride, Soothing her wounded pride, Over the waters wide
King Olaf sought he. Still on her scornful face, Blushing with deep disgrace, Bore she the crimson trace
Of Olaf's gauntlet; Like a malignant star, Blazing in heaven afar, Red shone the angry scar Under her frontlet.
Oft to King Svend she spake, "For thine own honour's sake Shalt thou swift vengeance take On the vile coward!" Until the King at last, Gusty and overcast, Like a tempestuous blast Threatened and lowered.
Soon as the Spring appeared, Svend of the Forked Beard High his red standard reared, Eager for battle;
While every warlike Dane Seizing his arms again, Left all unsown the grain, Unhoused the cattle.
Likewise the Swedish King Summoned in haste a Thing, Weapons and men to bring In aid of Denmark; Eric the Norseman, too, As the war-tidings flew, Sailed with a chosen crew From Lapland and Finmark.
So upon Easter day Sailed the three kings away, Out of the sheltered bay,
In the bright season: With them Earl Sigvald came, Eager for spoil and fame; Pity that such a name
Stooped to such treason!
Safe under Svald at last, Now were their anchors cast, Safe from the sea and blast, Plotted the three kings; While, with a base intent, Southward Earl Sigvald went, On a foul errand bent, Unto the Sea-kings. Thence to hold on his course, Unto King Olaf's force, Lying within the hoarse
Mouths of Stet-haven; Him to ensnare and bring Unto the Danish king, Who his dead corse would fling Forth to the raven !
XVIII.-KING OLAF AND EARL SIGVALD.
On the gray sea-sands King Olaf stands, Northward and seaward He points with his hands.
With eddy and whirl The sea-tides curl, Washing the sandals Of Sigvald the Earl.
The mariners shout, The ships swing about, The yards are all hoisted, The sails flutter out.
The war-horns are played, The anchors are weighed, Like moths in the distance The sails flit and fade.
The sea is like lead, The harbour lies dead, As a corse on the sea-shore, Whose spirit has fled! On that fatal day, The histories say, Seventy vessels
Sailed out of the bay.
But soon scattered wide O'er the billows they ride, While Sigvald and Olaf Sail side by side.
Cried the Earl: "Follow me! I your pilot will be,
For I know all the channels Where flows the deep sea!" So into the strait
Where his foes lie in wait, Gallant King Olaf Sails to his fate!
Then the sea-fog veils The ships and their sails; Queen Sigrid the Haughty, Thy vengeance prevails!
And there in the mist overhead
The sun hung red
As a drop of blood.
Drifting down on the Danish fleet Three together the ships were lashed, So that neither should turn and retreat; In the midst, but in front of the rest, The burnished crest Of the Serpent flashed.
King Olaf stood on the quarter-deck, With bow of ash and arrows of oak, His gilded shield was without a fleck, His helmet inlaid with gold, And in many a fold
Hung his crimson cloak.
On the forecastle Ulf the Red Watched the lashing of the ships; "If the Serpent lie so far ahead, We shall have hard work of it here," Said he with a sneer
On his bearded lips.
King Olaf laid an arrow on string, "Have I a coward on board?" said he. "Shoot it another way, O King!" Sullenly answered Ulf,
The old sea-wolf; "You have need of me!"
In front came Svend, the King of the
Sweeping down with his fifty rowers; To the right, the Swedish king with his thanes;
And on board of the Iron-Beard Earl Eric steered
On the left with his oars.
"These soft Danes and Swedes," said the King,
"At home with their wives had better stay,
Than come within reach of my Serpent's sting:
But where Eric the Norseman leads Heroic deeds
Will be done to-day!"
Then as together the vessels crashed, Eric severed the cables of hide, With which King Olaf's ships were lashed,
And left them to drive and drift
With the currents swift
Of the outward tide.
Just above his head;
Šing, O Eyvind Skaldaspiller," Then Earl Eric said,
'Sing the song of Hakon dying, Sing his funeral wail!" And another arrow flying
Grazed his coat of mail. Turning to a Lapland yeoman, As the arrow passed,
Said Earl Eric, Shoot that bowman Standing by the mast. Sooner than the word was spoken
Flew the yeoman's shaft; Einar's bow in twain was broken, Einar only laughed.
"What was that?" said Olaf, standing On the quarter-deck.
'Something heard I like the stranding Of a shattered wreck."
Einar then, the arrow taking
From the loosened string, Answered, "That was Norway breaking
From thy hand, O King!"
"Thou art but a poor diviner," Straightway Olaf said;
"Take my bow, and swifter, Einar, Let thy shafts be sped."
Of his bows the fairest choosing, Reached he from above; Einar saw the blood-drops oozing Through his iron glove.
But the bow was thin and narrow;
At the first assay,
O'er its head he drew the arrow, Flung the bow away;
Said, with hot and angry temper Flushing in his cheek, "Olaf! for so great a Kämper Are thy bows too weak!
Then, with smile of joy defiant On his beardless lip Scaled he, light and self-reliant, Eric's dragon-ship.
Loose his golden locks were flowing, Bright his armour gleamed: Like Saint Michael overthrowing Lucifer he seemed.
XXI.-KING OLAF'S DEATH-DRINK. ALL day has the battle raged, All day have the ships engaged, But not yet is assuaged
The vengeance of Eric the Earl. The decks with blood are red, The arrows of death are sped, The ships are filled with the dead, And the spears the champions hurl. They drift as wrecks on the tide, The grappling-irons are plied, The boarders climb up the side,
The shouts are feeble and few.
Ah! never shall Norway again See her sailors come back o'er the main;
They all lie wounded or slain,
Or asleep in the billows blue! On the deck stands Olaf the King, Around him whistle and sing The spears that the foemen fling,
And the stones they hurl with their hands.
In the midst of the stones and the spears,
Kolbiorn, the marshal, appears, His shield in the air he uprears,
By the side of King Olaf he stands. Over the slippery wreck Of the Long Serpent's deck Sweeps Eric with hardly a check,
His lips with anger are pale; He hews with his axe at the mast, Till it falls, with the sails overcast, Like a snow-covered pine in the vast Dim forests of Orkadale. Seeking King Olaf then, He rushes aft with his men,
Of the bear, when he stands at bay. "Remember Jarl Hakon!" he cries; When lo! on his wondering eyes, Two kingly figures arise,
Two Olafs in warlike array ! Then Kolbiorn speaks in the ear Of King Olaf a word of cheer, In a whisper that none may hear, With a smile on his tremulous lip; Two shields raised high in the air, Two flashes of golden hair, Two scarlet meteors' glare,
And both have leaped from the ship. Earl Eric's men in the boats Seize Kolbiorn's shield as it floats, And cry, from their hairy throats, "See! it is Olaf the King!" While far on the opposite side, Floats another shield on the tide, Like a jewel set in the wide Sea-current's eddying ring. There is told a wonderful tale, How the King stripped off his mail, Like leaves of the brown sea-kale,
As he swam beneath the main ; But the young grew old and gray, And never, by night or by day, In his kingdom of Norroway Was King Olaf seen again!
XXII THE NUN OF NIDAROS.
IN the convent of Drontheim, Alone in her chamber Knelt Astrid the Abbess, At midnight, adoring, Beseeching, entreating The Virgin and Mother.
She heard in the silence The voice of one speaking, Without in the darkness, In gusts of the night-wind, Now louder, now nearer, Now lost in the distance.
The voice of a stranger It seemed as she listened, Of some one who answered, Beseeching, imploring, A cry from afar off She could not distinguish.
The voice of Saint John, The beloved disciple, Who wandered and waited The Master's appearance, Alone in the darkness, Unsheltered and friendless. "It is accepted, The angry defiance, The challenge of battle! It is accepted,
But not with the weapons Of war that thou wieldest ! "Cross against corslet, Love against hatred, Peace-cry for war-cry! Patience is powerful; He that o'ercometh
Hath power o'er the nations! "As torrents in summer, Half dried in their channels, Suddenly rise, though the Sky is still cloudless, For rain has been falling Far off at their fountains ; "So hearts that are fainting Grow full to o'erflowing, And they that behold it Marvel, and know not That God at their fountains Far off has been raining! "Stronger than steel
Is the sword of the Spirit ; Swifter than arrows The life of the truth is; Greater than anger Is love, and subdueth!
"Thou art a phantom, A shape of the sea-mist, A shape of the brumal Rain, and the darkness Fearful and formless;
Day dawns and thou art not!
"The dawn is not distant, Nor is the night starless; Love is eternal !
God is still God, and
His faith shall not fail us; Christ is eternal !",
A STRAIN of music closed the tale, A low, monotonous funeral wail, That with its cadence, wild and sweet, Made the long Saga more complete. "Thank God," the Theologian said, "The reign of violence is dead, Or dying surely from the world; While Love triumphant reigns instead, And in a brighter sky o'erhead His blessed banners are unfurled. And most of all thank God for this: The war and waste of clashing creeds Now end in words, and not in deeds, And no one suffers loss, or bleeds, For thoughts that men call heresies. "I stand without here in the porch, I hear the bell's melodious din, I hear the organ peal within,
I hear the prayer, with words that scorch
Like sparks from an inverted torch, I hear the sermon upon sin,
With threatenings of the last account. And all, translated in the air,
Reach me but as our dear Lord's
And as the Sermon on the Mount. "Must it be Calvin, and not Christ? Must it be Athanasian creeds, Or holy water, books, and beads? Must struggling souls remain content With councils and decrees of Trent? And can it be enough for these The Christian Church the year em- balms
With evergreens and boughs of palms, And fills the air with litanies?
"I know that yonder Pharisee Thanks God that he is not like me; In my humiliation dressed, I only stand and beat my breast, And pray for human charity. "Not to one church alone, but seven, The voice prophetic spake from heaven; And unto each the promise came, Diversified, but still the same;
For him that overcometh are The new name written on the stone, The raiment white, the crown, the
And I will give him the Morning Star!
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