KING SVEND OF THE FORKED BEARD.
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oudly the sailors cheeredSvend of the Forked Beard,As with his fleet he steeredSouthward to Vendland;Where with their courses hauledAll were together called,Under the Isle of SvaldNear to the mainland. After Queen Gunhild's death,So the old Saga saith,Plighted King Svend his faithTo Sigrid the Haughty;And to avenge his bride,Soothing her wounded pride,Over the waters wideKing Olaf sought he. Still on her scornful face,Blushing with deep disgrace,Bore she the crimson traceOf Olaf's gauntlet;Like a malignant star,Blazing in heaven afar,Red shone the angry scarUnder her frontlet. Oft to King Svend she spake,"For thine own honor's sakeShalt thou swift vengeance takeOn the vile coward!"Until the King at last,Gusty and overcast,Like a tempestuous blastThreatened and lowered. Soon as the Spring appeared,Svend of the Forked BeardHigh his red standard reared,Eager for battle;While every warlike Dane,Seizing his arms again,Left all unsown the grain,Unhoused the cattle. Likewise the Swedish KingSummoned in haste a Thing,Weapons and men to bringIn aid of Denmark;Eric the Norseman, too,As the war-tidings flew,Sailed with a chosen crewFrom Lapland and Finmark. So upon Easter daySailed the three kings away,Out of the sheltered bay,In the bright season;With them Earl Sigvald came,Eager for spoil and fame;Pity that such a nameStooped to such treason! Safe under Svald at last,Now were their anchors cast,Safe from the sea and blast,Plotted the three kings;While, with a base intent,Southward Earl Sigvald went,On a foul errand bent,Unto the Sea-kings. Thence to hold on his course,Unto King Olaf's force,Lying within the hoarseMouths of Stet-haven;Him to ensnare and bring,Unto the Danish king,Who his dead corse would flingForth to the raven!
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