In front came Svend, the King of the Danes, Sweeping down with his fifty rowers;

To the right, the Swedish king with his thanes; And on board of the Iron-Beard

Earl Eric steered

On the left with his oars.

"These soft Danes and Swedes," said the King, “At home with their wives had better stay, Than come within reach of my Serpent's sting; 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.

EINAR TAMBERSKELVER.

Ir 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 Kämper
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 armour 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 huri.

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 Olafs 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 leapt 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 grey,
And never, by night or by day,
In his kingdom of Norroway
Was King Olaf seen again!