To his thoughts the sacred name And the tale she oft had told Then strange memories crowded back How a stranger watched his face Scanned his features one by one, Saying, "We should know each other I am Sigurd, Astrid's brother, Thou art Olaf, Astrid's son!" Then as Queen Allogia's page, Chief of all her men-at-arms; Then his cruisings o'er the seas, And to Scilly's rocky shore; All these thoughts of love and strife As the stars' intenser light Trained for either camp or court, Young and beautiful and tall; When at sea, with all his rowers, He along the bending oars Outside of his ship could run. He the Smalsor Horn ascended, And his shining shield suspended On its summit, like a sun. On the ship-rails he could stand, And at once two javelins throw; At all feasts where ale was strongest Sat the merry monarch longest, First to come and last to go. Norway never yet had seen One so royal in attire, When in arms completely furnished, Harness gold-inl tid and burnished, Mantle like a flame of fire. Thus came Olaf to his own, Passed that cry along the shore; And he answered, while the rifted Streamers o'er him shook and shifted, "I accept thy challenge, Thor!" cave; Alone in her chamber Wept Thora, the fairest of women. Said Karker, the crafty, "I will not slay thee! Was Thora, the fairest of women. From a dream in the night the thrall started, saying, "Round my neck a gold ring King Olaf was laving!" And Hakon answered, "Beware of the king! Gazed Thora, the fairest of women. At daybreak slept Hakon, with sorrows encum bered, But screamed, and drew up his feet as he slum She heard the birds sing, she saw the sun shine, The air of summer was sweeter than wine. Like a sword without scabbard the bright river lay Between her own kingdom and Norroway. But Olaf the King had sued for her hand, The sword would be sheathed, the river be spanned. Her maidens were seated around her knee, And one was singing the ancient ruue And through it, and round it, and over it all The Queen in her hand held a ring of gold, King Olaf had sent her this wedding gift, She had given the ring to her goldsmiths twain, And Sigrid the Queen, in her haughty way, The ring is of copper, and not of gold!" The lightning flashed o'er her forehead and cheek, She only murmured, she did not speak : "If in his gifts he can faithless be, There will be no gold in his love to me." A footstep was heard on the outer stair, And in strode King Olaf with royal air. He kissed the Queen's hand, and he whispered of love, And swore to be true as the stars are above. But she smiled with contempt as she answered: "O King, Will you swear it, as Odin once swore, on the ring?" And the King: "O speak not of Odin to me, The wife of King Olaf a Christian must be." Looking straight at the King, with her level brows, She said, "I keep true to my faith and my Vows." Then the face of King Olaf was darkened with gloom, He rose in his anger and strode through the room. Why, then, should I care to have thee?" he said, A faded old woman, a heathenish jade!" His zeal was stronger than fear or love, And he struck the Queen in the face with his glove. Then forth from the chamber in anger he fled, And the wooden stairway shook with his tread. Queen Sigrid the Haughty said under her breath, This insult, King Olaf, shall be thy death!" Heart's dearest, Why dost thou sorrow so? V. THE SKERRY OF SHRIEKS. Now from all King Olaf's farms Gathered on the Eve of Easter; Drinking with the royal feaster. Loudly through the wide-flung door Of the sea upon the Skerry; Mingling with their voices merry. "Listen to that song, and learn it! If by such songs you would earn it! Best I like the ocean's dirges, Flowing and flashing in the surges!" Halfred answered: "I am called Nothing hinders me or daunts me. While I sing 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, Round the house where they were sleeping. THE guests were loud, the ale was strong, Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. The door swung wide, with creak and din; A blast of cold night-air came in, The King exclaimed, "O graybeard pale! Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. Then spake the King: "Be not afraid; Sit here by me." The guest obeyed, And, seated at the table, told Tales of the sea, and Sagas old. Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. And ever, when the tale was o'er, Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. The King retired; the stranger guest As one who from a volume reads, Then from his lips in music rolled Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. "Do we not learn from runes and rhyrnes Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. Smiling at this, the King replied, Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. The Bishop said, "Late hours we keep! Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. |