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The Long Serpent was she christened,

'Mid the roar of cheer on cheer! They who to the Saga listened Heard the name of Thorberg Skafting

For a hundred year !



Safe at anchor in Drontheim bay
King Olaf's fleet assembled lay,

And, striped with white and blue, 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 quarrelled,
Old King Gorm, or Blue-Tooth Harald,
Owned a ship so well apparelled,

Boasted such a crew!



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 Queen;

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.

Oh, greatest wonder of all!
It is published 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.



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.

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