п. KING OLAF'S RETURN. AND King Olaf heard the cry, Laid his hand upon his sword, Northward into Drontheim fiord. There he stood as one who dreamed; And the red light glanced and gleamed On the armor that he wore; And he shouted, as the rifted Streamers o'er him shook and shifted, "I accept thy challenge, Thor! To avenge his father slain, And reconquer realm and reign, Came the youthful Olaf home, Through the midnight sailing, sailing, Listening to the wild wind's wailing, And the dashing of the foam. To his thoughts the sacred name And the tale she oft had told Of her flight by secret passes Then strange memories crowded back Of grim Vikings, and their rapture And the life of slavery. How a stranger watched his face Then as Queen Allogia's page, Chief of all her men-at-arms; Till vague whispers, and mysterious, Reached King Valdemar, the imperious, Filling him with strange alarms. Then his cruisings o'er the seas, And to Scilly's rocky shore; And the hermit's cavern dismal, Christ's great name and rites baptismal, In the ocean's rush and roar. All these thoughts of love and strife As the stars' intenser light Trained for either camp or court, Young and beautiful and tall; Art of warfare, craft of chases, When at sea, with all his rowers, Outside of his ship could run. On its summit, like a sun. On the ship-rails he could stand, And at once two javelins throw; At all feasts where ale was strongest Sat the merry monarch longest, First to come and last to go. Norway never yet had seen One so royal in attire, When in arms completely furnished, Harness gold-inlaid and burnished, Mantle like a flame of fire. Thus came Olaf to his own, "I accept thy challenge, Thor!" |