XV. A LITTLE BIRD IN THE AIR. A LITTLE bird in the air Is singing of Thyri the fair, The sister of Svend the Dane; And the song of the garrulous bird In the streets of the town is heard, And repeated again and again. Hoist up your sails of silk, And flee away from each other. To King Burislaf, it is said, Was the beautiful Thyri wed, And a sorrowful bride went she; And after a week and a day, She has fled away and away, From his town by the stormy sea. Hoist up your sails of silk, And flee away from each other. They say, that through heat and through cold, Through weald, they say, and through wold, By day and by night, they say, She has fled; and the gossips report And the town is all in dismay. And flee away from each other. It is whispered King Olaf has seen, It is war with King Svend the Dane, And flee away from each other. O, greatest wonder of all! It is published in hamlet and hall, It roars like a flame that is fanned! The King—yes, Olaf the King — And Thyri is Queen in the land! And flee away from each other. XVI. QUEEN THYRI AND THE ANGELICA STALKS. NORTHWARD Over Drontheim, Flew the clamorous sea-gulls, Sang the lark and linnet From the meadows green; Weeping in her chamber, Lonely and unhappy, Sat the Drottning Thyri, Sat King Olaf's Queen. In at all the windows Streamed the pleasant sunshine, On the roof above her Softly cooed the dove; But the sound she heard not, Nor the sunshine heeded, For the thoughts of Thyri Were not thoughts of love. Then King Olaf entered, Like the sun at Easter Shone his happy face; In his hand he carried Angelicas uprooted, With delicious fragrance Filling all the place. Like a rainy midnight Sat the Drottning Thyri, Even the smile of Olaf Could not cheer her gloom; |