O, greatest wonder of all!

It is published in hamlet and hall,

It roars like a flame that is fanned!

The King—yes, Olaf the King

Has wedded her with his ring,

And Thyri is Queen in the land!

Hoist up your sails of silk,

And flee away from each other.

XVI.

QUEEN THYRI AND THE ANGELICA STALKS.

NORTHWARD Over Drontheim,
Flew the clamorous sea-gulls,
Sang the lark and linnet

From the meadows green;

Weeping in her chamber,
Lonely and unhappy,

Sat the Drottning Thyri,

Sat King Olaf's Queen.

In at all the windows

Streamed the pleasant sunshine,

On the roof above her

Softly cooed the dove;

But the sound she heard not,

Nor the sunshine heeded,

For the thoughts of Thyri

Were not thoughts of love.

Then King Olaf entered,
Beautiful as morning,

Like the sun at Easter

Shone his happy face;

In his hand he carried

Angelicas uprooted,

With delicious fragrance

Filling all the place.

Like a rainy midnight

Sat the Drottning Thyri,

Even the smile of Olaf

Could not cheer her gloom;

Nor the stalks he gave her

With a gracious gesture,
And with words as pleasant
As their own perfume.

In her hands be placed them,
And her jewelled fingers

Through the green leaves glistened
Like the dews of morn;

But she cast them from her,

Haughty and indignant,

On the floor she threw them
With a look of scorn.

"Richer presents," said she,
"Gave King Harald Gormson

To the Queen, my mother,

Than such worthless weeds;

"When he ravaged Norway,

Laying waste the kingdom,
Seizing scatt and treasure

For her royal needs.

"But thou darest not venture

Through the Sound to Vendland,

My domains to rescue

From King Burislaf;

"Lest King Svend of Denmark,

Forked Beard, my brother,

Scatter all thy vessels

As the wind the chaff."

Then up sprang King Olaf,

Like a reindeer bounding,
With an oath he answered
Thus the luckless Queen: