THE SAGA OF KING OLAF.

"Not slaves and peasants shall they',

But men of note and high degree, Such men as Orm of Lyra and Kar of Gry!"

Then to their Temple strode he in,

And loud behind him heard the din Of his men-at-arms and the peasants ficely fighting.

There in the Temple, carved in woo
The image of great Odin stood,

And other gods, with Thor supreme amonglem.

King Olaf smote them with the blad

Of his huge war-axe, gold inlaid,

And downward shattered to the pavemen lung

them.

At the same moment rose without,
From the contending crowd, a shout

A mingled sound of triumph and of wailig.

And there upon the trampled plain

The farmer Iron-Beard lay slain, Midway between the assailed and the assailing.

King Olaf from the doorway spoke "Choose ye between two things, my folk, To be baptized or given up to slaughter!"

66

And seeing their leader stark and dead,
The people with a murmur said,

"O King, baptize us with thy holy water!"

So all the Drontheim land became

A Christian land in name and fame, In the old gods no more believing and trusting.

And as a blood-atonement, soon

King Olaf wed the fair Gudrun ;

And thus in peace ended the Drontheim Hus

VIII.

GUDRUN.

ON King Olaf's bridal night

Shines the moon with tender light,

And across the chamber streams

Its tide of dreams.

At the fatal midnight hour,
When all evil things have power,

In the glimmer of the moon
Stands Gudrun.

Close against her heaving breast, Something in her hand is pressed; Like an icicle, its sheen

Is cold and keen.