Downward fluttered sail and banner, As alights the screaming lanner; Lustily cheered, in their wild manner, The Long Serpent's crew.

Her forecastle man was Ulf the Red; Like a wolf's was his shaggy head,

His teeth as large and white; His beard, of gray and russet blended, Round as a swallow's nest descended; As standard-bearer he defended

Olaf's flag in the fight.

Near him Kolbiorn had his place,
Like the King in garb and face,
So gallant and so hale;
Every cabin-boy and varlet
Wondered at his cloak of scarlet;
Like a river, frozen and star-lit,
Gleamed his coat-of-mail.

By the bulkhead, tall and dark,
Stood Thrand Rame of Thelemark,
A figure gaunt and grand;
On his hairy arm imprinted
Was an anchor, azure-tinted;
Like Thor's hammer, huge and dinted
Was his brawny hand.

Einar Tamberskelver, bare
To the winds his golden hair,
By the mainmast stood;
Graceful was his form, and slender,
And his eyes were deep and tender
As a woman's, in the splendor
Of her maidenhood.

In the fore-hold Biorn and Bork
Watched the sailors at their work:

Heavens! how they swore!
Thirty men they each commanded,
Iron-sinewed, horny-handed,
Shoulders broad, and chests expanded,
Tugging at the oar.

These, and many more like these,
With King Olaf sailed the seas,

Till the waters vast
Filled them with a vague devotion,
With the freedom and the motion,
With the roll and roar of ocean

And the sounding blast.

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 quar relled,

Old King Gorm, or Blue-Tooth Harald, Owned a ship so well apparelled, Boasted such a crew!

XV.

A LITTLE BIRD IN THE AIR.

A LITTLE bird in the air
Is singing of Thyri the fair,

The sister of Svend the Dane;
And the song of the garrulous bird
In the streets of the town is heard,
And repeated again and again.

Hoist up your sails of silk,
And flee away from each other.
To King Burislaf, it is said,
Was the beautiful Thyri wed,

And a sorrowful bride went she;
And after a week and a day,
She has fled away and away
From his town by the stormy sea.
Hoist up your sails of silk,
And flee away from each other.
They say, that through heat and through
cold,
Through weald, they say, and through.
wold,

By day and by night, they say, She has fled; and the gossips report She has come to King Olaf's court, And the town is all in dismay. Hoist up your sails of silk,

And flee away from each other. It is whispered King Olaf has seen, Has talked with the beautiful Queeng And they wonder how it will end: For surely, if here she remain, It is war with King Svend the Dane, And King Burislaf the Vend! Hoist up your sails of silk, And flee away from each other.

O, greatest wonder of all !

It is puolished in hamlet and hall,

It roars like a flame that is fanned! The King—yes, Olaf the King— Has wedded her with his ring, And Thyri is Queen in the land! Hoist up your sails of silk, And flee away from each other.

XVI.

QUEEN THYRI AND THE ANGELICA
STALKS.

NORTHWARD over Drontheim,
Flew the clamorous sea-gulls,
Sang the lark and linnet

From the meadows green;
Weeping in her chamber,
Lonely and unhappy,
Sat the Drottning Thyri,
Sat King Olaf's Queen.
In at all the windows
Streamed the pleasant sunshine,
On the roof above her

Softly cooed the dove;
But the sound she heard not,
Nor the sunshine heeded,
For the thoughts of Thyri
Were not thoughts of love.
Then King Olaf entered,
Beautiful as morning,
Like the sun at Easter
Shone his happy face;
In his hand he carried
Angelicas uprooted,
With delicious fragrance
Filling all the place.
Like a rainy midnight
Sat the Drottning Thyri,
Even the smile of Olaf
Could not cheer her gloom;

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 boon 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."

XVII. .

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 honor'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 harbor 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!

Drifting down on the Danish fleet
Three together the ships were lashed,
So that neither should turn and res
treat;

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 Danes,

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

To 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.

Louder the war-horns growl and snarl,
Sharper the dragons bite and sting!
Eric the son of Hakon Jarl

A death-drink salt as the sea
Pledges to thee,

Olaf the King!

XX.

EINAR TAMBERSKELVER.

IT was Einar Tamberskelver

Stood beside the mast;

From his yew-bow, tipped with silver,
Flew the arrows fast;
Aimed at Eric unavailing,

As he sat concealed,
Half behind the quarter-railing,
Half behind his shield.

First an arrow struck the tiller,
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 armor 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;