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XVIII.

KING OLAF AND EARL SIGVALD.

On the gray sea-sands

King Olaf stands,

Northward and seaward

He points with his hands.

With eddy and whirl

The sea-tides curl,

Washing the sandals

Of Sigvald the Earl.

The mariners shout,

The ships swing about,

The yards are all hoisted,

The sails flutter out.

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

The ships and their sails;
Queen Sigrid the Haughty,
Thy vengeance prevails!

XIX.

KING OLAF'S WAR-HORNS.

"STRIKE the sails!" King Olaf said;

Never shall men of mine take flight;

Never away from battle I fled,

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.
Three together the ships were lashed,
So that neither should turn and retreat;
In the midst, but in front of the rest
The burnished crest

Of the Serpent flashed.

King Olaf stood on the quarter-deck,
With bow of ash and arrows of oak,
His gilded shield was without a fleck,

His helmet inlaid with gold,

And in many a fold

Hung his crimson cloak.

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