BISHOP SIGURD AT SALTEN FIORD.
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oud the angry wind was wailingAs King Olaf's ships came sailingNorthward out of Drontheim havenTo the mouth of Salten Fiord. Though the flying sea-spray drenchesFore and aft the rowers' benches,Not a single heart is cravenOf the champions there on board. All without the Fiord was quiet,But within it storm and riot,Such as on his Viking cruisesRaud the Strong was wont to ride. And the sea through all its tide-waysSwept the reeling vessels sideways,As the leaves are swept through sluices,When the flood-gates open wide. "'Tis the warlock! 'tis the demonRaud!" cried Sigurd to the seamen;"But the Lord is not affrightedBy the witchcraft of his foes." To the ship's bow he ascended,By his choristers attended,Round him were the tapers lighted,And the sacred incense rose. On the bow stood Bishop Sigurd,In his robes, as one transfigured,And the Crucifix he plantedHigh amid the rain and mist. Then with holy water sprinkledAll the ship; the mass-bells tinkled;Loud the monks around him chanted,Loud he read the Evangelist. As into the Fiord they darted,On each side the water parted;Down a path like silver moltenSteadily rowed King Olaf's ships; Steadily burned all night the tapers,And the White Christ through the vaporsGleamed across the Fiord of Salten,As through John's Apocalypse,-- Till at last they reached Raud's dwellingOn the little isle of Gelling;Not a guard was at the doorway,Not a glimmer of light was seen. But at anchor, carved and gilded,Lay the dragon-ship he builded;'Twas the grandest ship in Norway,With its crest and scales of green. Up the stairway, softly creeping,To the loft where Raud was sleeping,With their fists they burst asunderBolt and bar that held the door. Drunken with sleep and ale they found him,Dragged him from his bed and bound him,While he stared with stupid wonder,At the look and garb they wore. Then King Olaf said: "O Sea-King!Little time have we for speaking,Choose between the good and evil;Be baptized, or thou shalt die!" But in scorn the heathen scofferAnswered: "I disdain thine offer;Neither fear I God nor Devil;Thee and thy Gospel I defy!" Then between his jaws distended,When his frantic struggles ended,Through King Olaf's horn an adder,Touched by fire, they forced to glide. Sharp his tooth was as an arrow,As he gnawed through bone and marrow;But without a groan or shudder,Raud the Strong blaspheming died. Then baptized they all that region,Swarthy Lap and fair Norwegian,Far as swims the salmon, leaping,Up the streams of Salten Fiord. In their temples Thor and OdinLay in dust and ashes trodden,As King Olaf, onward sweeping,Preached the Gospel with his sword. Then he took the carved and gildedDragon-ship that Raud had builded,And the tiller single-handed,Grasping, steered into the main. Southward sailed the sea-gulls o'er him,Southward sailed the ship that bore him,Till at Drontheim haven landedOlaf and his crew again.
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