VI. THE WRAITH OF ODIN. THE guests were loud, the ale was strong, Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang, The door swung wide, with creak and din; Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. The King retired; the stranger-guest Followed and entered with the rest; The lights were out, the pages gone, But still the garrulous guest went on. Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. As one who from a volume reads, With sounds mysterious as the roar Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. "Do we not learn from runes and rhymes Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. The Bishop said, "Late hours we keep! Night wanes, O King! 'tis time for sleep!' Then slept the King, and then he woke, The guest was gone, the morning broke. Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. They found the doors securely barred, Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang VII.-IRON-BEARD. 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 earis; Bitter as home-brewed ale were his foaming passions. Hodden-gray was the garb he wore, And by the Hammer of Thor he swore: He hated the narrow town, and all its fashions. But he loved the freedom of his farm, His ale at night, by the fireside warm, Gudrun his daughter, with her flaxen tresses. He loved his horses and his herds, The smell of the earth, and the song of birds, His well-filled barns, his brook with its water cresses. Huge and cumbersome was his frame; His beard, from which he took his name, Frosty and fierce. like that of Hymer the Giant. So at the Hus-Ting he appeared, And to King Olaf he cried aloud, That tossed about him like a stormy ocean: "Such sacrifices shalt thou bring, As other kings have done in their devotion!" King Olaf answered: "I command 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, Such men as Orm of Lyra and Kar of Gryting!" Then to their Temple strode he in. Of his men-at-arms and the peasants fiercely fighting. There in the Temple, carved in wood, And other gods, with Thor supreme among them. King Olaf smote them with the blade And downward shattered to the pavement flung them. At the same moment rose without, A mingled sound of triumph and of wailing. And there upon the trampled plain 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!" 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 Underneath the fairest hair! Gudrun beware!" Ere the earliest peep of morn IX.-THANGBRAND THE PRIEST. "There goes Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest." All the prayers he knew by rote, He could preach like Chrysostome, Was this Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. Would drink and sweer, Swaggering Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. Satires scrawled On poor Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. 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, Pious Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. X.-RAUD THE STRONG. "ALL the old gods are dead, But the White Christ lives and reigns, On the Evangelists But still in dreams of the night And Sigurd the Bishop said, The old witchcraft still is spread." 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 was he, Here the sign of the cross made "With rites that we both abhur, Said Sigurd the Bishop. Then King Olaf cried aloud: "I will talk with this mighty Raud, 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. By the witchcraft of his foes." High amid the rain and mist. As into the Fiord they darted, Steadily rowed King Olaf's ships; Not a guard was at the doorway, Nor a glimmer of light was seen. With its crest and scales of green. 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!" Thee and thy Gospel I defy!" Raud the Strong blaspheming died. Up the streams of Salten Fiord. Preached the Gospel with his sword. Grasping, steered into the main. Olaf and his crew again. XII.-KING OLAF'S CHRISTMAS. 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 prayers: But the Berserks evermore Made the sign of the Hammer of Thor 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 Sca'd took his harp and sang, And the Berserks round about That made the rafters ring; But the King said, "O my son, I miss the bright word in one Of thy measures and thy rhymes." Then King Olaf raised the hilt And said, "Do not refuse; And Halfred the Scald said, "This Then over the waste of snows Through the driving mists revealed. On the shining wall a vast And shadowy cross was cast From the hilt of the lifted sword, And in foaming cups of ale The Berserks drank "Was-hacl To the Lord!" XIII. THE BUILDING OF THE LONG SERPENT. THOBBERG SKAFTING, master-builder, Whistled, saying, "Twould bewilder Near him lay the Dragon stranded, Therefore whistled Thorberg Skafting, Twice the Dragon's size. Round him busily hewed and hammered All this tumult heard the master, It was music to his ear, Workmen sweating at the forges Fashioned iron bolt and bar, Did the warlocks mingle in it, Thorberg Skafting, any curse? 'Twas an ill wind that came wafting, 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!" Such a wondrous thing!" At the ship the workmen stared; Some one all their labour baulking, Down her side had cut deep gashes, Not a plank was spared! "Death be to the evil-doer!" With an oath King Olaf spoke; Straight the master-builder, smiling, 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 splended, Rose the figure-head ferocious With its crest of steel. Then they launched her from the tressels, She was the grandest of all vessels, Half so fine as she; The Long Serpent was she christened, They who to the Saga listened XIV. THE CREW OF THE LONG SERPENT. SAFE at anchor at Drontheim bay And, striped with white and blue, Her forecastle man was Ulf the Red; His teeth as large and white; Near him Kolbiorn had his place, By the bulkhead, tall and dark, In the fore-bold Biorn and Bork These, and many more like these, Till the waters vast Filled them with a vague devotion, 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 Such a gallant company Sail its billows blue! Never, while they cruised and quarrelled, XV. A LITTLE BIRD IN THE AIR. A LITTLE bird in the air Is singing of Thyri the fair, To King Burislaf, it is said, And a sorrowful bride went she; And after a week and a day, And flee away from each other. They say, that through heat and through cold, Through weald, they say, and through wold, |