"Sing me a song divine,
With a sword in every line,

And this shall be thy reward."
And he loosened the belt at his waist,
And in front of the singer placed
His sword.

"Quern-biter of Hakon the Good,
Wherewith at a stroke he hewed

The millstone through and through,
And Foot-breadth of Thoralf the Strong,
Were neither so broad nor so long,
Nor so true."

Then the Scald took his harp and sang,
And loud through the music rang

The sound of that shining word;
And the harp-strings a clangour made,
As if they were struck with the blade
Of a sword.

And the Berserks round about

Broke forth into a shout

That made the rafters ring;

They smote with their fists on the board,
And shouted, "Long live the Sword.
And the King!"

But the King said, "O my son,

I miss the bright word in one

Of thy measures and thy rhymes."

And Halfred the Scald replied,

"In another 'twas multiplied Three times."

Therefore whistled Thorberg Skafting,
As he sat with half-closed eyes,
And his head turned sideways, drafting
That new vessel for King Olaf

Twice the Dragon's size.

Round him busily hewed and hammered
Mallet huge and heavy axe;

Workmen laughed and sang and clamoured,
Whirred the wheels that into rigging

Spun the shining flax!

All this tumult heard the master,-
It was music to his ear;

Fancy whispered all the faster,

"Men shall hear of Thorberg Skafting For a hundred year!"

Workmen sweating at the forges
Fashioned iron bolt and bar,
Like a warlock's midnight orgies
Smoked and bubbled the black cauldron
With the boiling tar.

Did the warlocks mingle in it,
Thorberg Skafting, any curse?
Could you not be gone a minute

But some mischief must be doing,
Turning bad to worse?

"Twas an ill wind that came wafting
From his homestead words of woe;
To his farm went Thorberg Skafting,
Oft repeating to his workmen,
Build ye thus and so.

After long delays returning

Came the master back by night;
To his shipyard longing, yearning,
Hurried he, and did not leave it
Till the morning's light.

"Come and see my ship, my darling!"
On the morrow said the King;
"Finished now from keel to carling;
Never yet was seen in Norway
Such a wondrous thing!"

In the shipyard, idly talking,
At the ship the workmen stared:
Some one, all their labour balking,
Down her sides had cut deep gashes,
Not a plank was spared!

"Death be to the evil-doer!

With an oath King Olaf spoke;
"But rewards to his pursuer!"
And with wrath his face grew redder
Than his scarlet cloak.

Straight the master-builder, smiling,
Answered thus the angry King:

"Cease blaspheming and reviling,
Olaf, it was Thorberg Skafting
Who has done this thing!"

Then he chipped and smoothed the planking, Till the King, delighted, swore,

With much lauding and much thanking, "Handsomer is now my Dragon

Than she was before!"

Seventy ells and four exte nded

On the grass the vessel's keel; High above it, gilt and splen did, Rose the figure-head ferocio us, With its crest of steel.

Then they launched her from the tressels,
In the shipyard 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!

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 grey 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 splendour
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!