The war-horns are played, The anchors are weighed, Like moths in the distance The sails flit and fade. The sea is like lead, The harbor lies dead, As a corse on the sea-shore, Whose spirit has fled! On that fatal day, The histories say, Seventy vessels Sailed out of the bay. But soon scattered wide O'er the billows they ride, While Sigvald and Olaf Sail side by side. Cried the Earl: "Follow me! I your pilot will be, For I know all the channels Where flows the deep sea!" So into the strait Where his foes lie in wait, Gallant King Olaf Sails to his fate! Then the sea-fog veils XIX. KING OLAF'S WAR-HORNS. "STRIKE the sails!" King Olaf said; Never shall men of mine take flight; Never away from my foes! Let God dispose Of my life in the fight!" "Sound the horns!" said Olaf the King; And suddenly through the drifting brume The blare of the horns began to ring, Like the terrible trumpet shock Of Regnarock, On the Day of Doom! Louder and louder the war-horns sang Over the level floor of the flood; All the sails came down with a clang, And there in the mist overhead The sun hung red As a drop of blood. Drifting down on the Danish fleet Of the Serpent flashed. King Olaf stood on the quarter-deck, His helmet inlaid with gold, And in many a fold Hung his crimson cloak. On the forecastle Ulf the Red Watched the lashing of the ships; "If the Serpent lie so far ahead, We shall have hard work of it here," On his bearded lips. King Olaf laid an arrow on string, "Have I a coward on board?" said he. "Shoot it another way, O King!' Sullenly answered Ulf, The old sea-wolf; "You have need of me!" 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. |