On the bow stood Bishop Sigurd, High amid the rain and mist. Then with holy water sprinkled As into the Fiord they darted, Steadily rowed King Olaf's ships; Steadily burned all night the tapers, 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, 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! Be baptized! or thou shalt die!" But in scorn the heathen scoffer ; Thee and thy Gospel I defy!" Then between his jaws distended, Touched by fire, they forced to glide. Sharp his tooth was as an arrow, Raud the Strong blaspheming died. Then baptized they all that region, Up the streams of Salten Fiord. In their temples Thor and Odin Preached the Gospel with his sword. Then he took the carved and gilded Grasping, steered into the main. Southward sailed the sea-gulls o'er him, XII. KING OLAF'S CHRISTMAS. At Drontheim, Olaf the King Drinking the nut-brown ale, Three days his Yule-tide feasts O'er his drinking-horn, the sign He made of the cross divine, As he drank, and muttered his prayers; But the Berserks evermore Made the sign of the Hammer of Thor Over theirs. The gleams of the fire-light dance And laugh in the eyes of the King; "Sing me a song divine, With a sword in every line, And this shall be thy reward." *Quern-biter of Hakon the Good, Wherewith at a stroke he hewed The millstone through and through, And Foot-breadth of Thoralf the Strong, 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 clangor made, As if they were struck with the blade Of a sword. And the Berserks round about Broke forth into a shout That made the rafters ring: They smote with their fists on the board, And shouted, "Long live the Sword, And the King!" But the King said, "O my son, Of thy measures and thy rhymes." Then King Olaf raised the hilt And Halfred the Scald said, "This Who on it was crucified ! And a shout went round the board, "In the name of Christ the Lord, Who died!" Then over the waste of snows The noonday sun uprose, Through the driving mists revealed, Like the lifting of the Host, By incense-clouds almost On the shining wall a vast And shadowy cross was cast From the hilt of the lifted sword, And in foaming cups of ale |