INTERLUDE.

AND then the blue-eyed Norseman told
A Saga of the days of old.

"There is," said he, "a wondrous book
Of Legends in the old Norse tongue,
Of the dead kings of Norroway,
Legends that once were told or sung
In many a smoky fireside nook
Of Iceland, in the ancient day,
By wandering Saga-man or Scald;
Heimskringla is the volume called;
And he who looks may find therein
The story that I now begin."

And in each pause the story made
Upon his violin he played,

As an appropriate interlude,

Fragments of old Norwegian tunes
That bound in one the separate runes,
And held the mind in perfect mood,
Entwining and encircling all

The strange and antiquated rhymes
With melodies of olden times;

As over some half-ruined wall,

Disjointed and about to fall,

Fresh woodbines climb and interlace,

And keep the loosened stones in place.

THE MUSICIAN'S TALE.

THE SAGA OF KING OLAF.

I.

THE CHALLENGE OF THOR.

I AM the God Thor,

I am the War God,

I am the Thunderer!

Here in my Northland,
My fastness and fortress,
Reign I forever!

Here amid icebergs

Rule I the nations;

This is my hammer,

Miölner the mighty;

Giants and sorcerers
Cannot withstand it!

These are the gauntlets

Wherewith I wield it,

And hurl it afar off;

This is my girdle ;

Whenever I brace it,

Strength is redoubled!

The light thou beholdest Stream through the heavens,

In flashes of crimson,

Is but my red beard

Blown by the night-wind,

Affrighting the nations!

Jove is my brother;

Mine eyes are the lightning; The wheels of my chariot

Roll in the thunder,

The blows of my hammer

Ring in the earthquake!

Force rules the world still, Has ruled it, shall rule it; Meekness is weakness,

Strength is triumphant,

Over the whole earth

Still is it Thor's-Day!

Thou art a God too,

O Galilean!

And thus single-handed

Unto the combat,

Gauntlet or Gospel,

Here I defy thee!

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