"Handsomer is now my Dragon

Than she was before!"

Seventy ells and four extended

On the grass the vessel's keel;

High above it, gilt and splendid,
Rose the figure-head ferocious

With its crest of steel.

Then they launched her from the tressels, In the ship-yard by the sea;

She was the grandest of all vessels,

Never ship was built in Norway

Half so fine as she!

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!

6 *

XIV.

THE CREW OF THE LONG SERPENT.

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!