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;"Sing, 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 Kamper 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;He hews with his axe at the mast, Till it falls, with the sails overcast, Like a snow-covered pine in the vast Dim forests of Orkadale.
Seeking King Olaf then, He rushes aft with his men, As a hunter into the den Of the bear, when he stands at bay.
"Remember Jarl Hakon!" he cries;
When lo! on his wondering eyes, Two kingly figures arise, Two Olaf's in warlike array!
Then Kolbiorn speaks in the ear Of King Olaf a word of cheer, In a whisper that none may hear, With a smile on his tremulous lip;Two shields raised high in the air, Two flashes of golden hair, Two scarlet meteors' glare, And both have leaped from the ship.
Earl Eric's men in the boats Seize Kolbiorn's shield as it floats, And cry, from their hairy throats, "See! it is Olaf the King!"While far on the opposite side Floats another shield on the tide, Like a jewel set in the wide Sea-current's eddying ring.
There is told a wonderful tale, How the King stripped off his mail, Like leaves of the brown sea-kale, As he swam beneath the main;But the young grew old and gray, And never, by night or by day, In his kingdom of Norroway Was King Olaf seen again!
XXII
THE NUN OF NIDAROS
In the convent of Drontheim, Alone in her chamber Knelt Astrid the Abbess, At midnight, adoring, Beseeching, entreating The Virgin and Mother.
She heard in the silence The voice of one speaking, Without in the darkness, In gusts of the night-wind Now louder, now nearer, Now lost in the distance.
The voice of a stranger It seemed as she listened, Of some one who answered, Beseeching, imploring, A cry from afar off She could not distinguish.
The voice of Saint John, The beloved disciple, Who wandered and waited The Master's appearance.
Alone in the darkness, Unsheltered and friendless.
"It is accepted The angry defiance The challenge of battle!
It is accepted, But not with the weapons Of war that thou wieldest!
"Cross against corselet, Love against hatred, Peace-cry for war-cry!
Patience is powerful;
He that o'ercometh Hath power o'er the nations!
"As torrents in summer, Half dried in their channels, Suddenly rise, though the Sky is still cloudless, For rain has been falling Far off at their fountains;So hearts that are fainting Grow full to o'ertlowing, And they that behold it Marvel, and know not That God at their fountains Far off has been raining!
"Stronger than steel Is the sword of the Spirit;Swifter than arrows The light of the truth is, Greater than anger Is love, and subdueth!
"Thou art a phantom, A shape of the sea-mist, A shape of the brumal Rain, and the darkness Fearful and formless;Day dawns and thou art not!
"The dawn is not distant, Nor is the night starless;Love is eternal!
God is still God, and His faith shall not fail us Christ is eternal!"INTERLUDE
A strain of music closed the tale, A low, monotonous, funeral wail, That with its cadence, wild and sweet, Made the long Saga more complete.
"Thank God," the Theologian said, "The reign of violence is dead, Or dying surely from the world;While Love triumphant reigns instead, And in a brighter sky o'erhead His blessed banners are unfurled.
And most of all thank God for this:
