Halfred answered: "I am called Nothing hinders me or daunts me. The great Ocean Song that haunts me." "I will hear your song sublime Says the drowsy monarch, yawning, Then they sleep till day is dawning. Pacing up and down the yard, Saw the sea-mist slowly creeping Round the house where they were sleeping. It was not the fog he saw, That above the landscape brooded; With their cs of darkness hooded! Round and round the house they go, Magic circles to encumber As he helpless lies in slumber. Then athwart the vapours dun Streamed with one broad track of splendour! The warlocks weird, Awful as the Witch of Endor. Blinded by the light that glared, They groped and stared Round about with steps unsteady; And, amazed, "Who are these strange people?" said he. "Eyvind Kallda and his men !" Answered then From the yard a sturdy farmer; While the men-at-arms apace Busily buckling on their armour. From the gates they sallied forth, Scoured the island coast around them, On the Skerry rocks they bound them. And at eve the King again And, with all the candles burning, Of the ocean tides returning. Shrieks and cries of wild despair Growing fainter as they listened; Thus the sorcerers were christened! "Sing, O Scald, your song sublime, Cried King Olaf: "it will cheer me!" Sings too loud for you to hear me!" VI. THE WRAITH OF ODIN. THE guests were loud, the ale was strong, The hoary Scalds together sang; Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. The door swung wide, with creak and din; Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. The King exclaimed, "O graybeard pale! Come warm thee with this cup of ale." The foaming draught the old man quaffed, The noisy guests looked on and laughed, Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. Then spake the King: "Be not afraid; Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang, And ever, when the tale was o'er, Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. As one who from a volume reads, Then from his lips in music rolled 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. Smiling at this, the King replied, 66 Thy lore is by thy tongue belied; For never was I so enthralled Either by Saga-man or Scald.' 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 when he woke The guest was gone, the morning broke. Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. They found the doors securely barred, They found the watch-dog in the yard, There was no footprint in the grass, Anl none had seen the stranger pass. Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. King Olaf crossed himself and said: VII.-IRON-BEARD. OLAF the King, one summer morn, Sending his signal through the land of Drontheim. And to the Hus-Ting held at Mere Heard the summons, chuckling with a low laugh. Bitter as home-brewed ale were his foaming passions. 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, So at the Hus-Ting he appeared, On horseback, with an attitude defiant. And to King Olaf he cried aloud, That tossed about him like a stormy ocean: 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, 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. 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. And seeing their leader stark and dead, "O King, baptize us with thy holy water!" So all the Drontheim land became And as a blood-atonement, soon And thus in peace ended the Drontheim Hus-Ting! VIII. GUDRUN. ON King Olaf's bridal night Shines the moon with tender light, |