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X.

RAUD THE STRONG

"ALL the old gods are dead, All the wild warlocks fled;

But the White Christ lives and reigns, And throughout my wide domains

His Gospel shall be spread!"

On the Evangelists

Thus swore King Olaf.

But still in dreams of the night
Beheld he the crimson light,

And heard the voice that defied

Him who was crucified,

And challenged him to the fight.

To Sigurd the Bishop
King Olaf confessed it.

And Sigurd the Bishop said,
"The old gods are not dead,
For the great Thor still reigns,
And among the Jarls and Thanes

The old witchcraft still is spread."
Thus to King Olaf

Said Sigurd the Bishop.

"Far north in the Salten Fiord,

By rapine, fire, and sword,

Lives the Viking, Raud the Strong;
All the Godoe Isles belong

To him and his heathen horde."
Thus went on speaking
Sigurd the Bishop.

"A warlock, a wizard is he,
And lord of the wind and the sea;
And whichever way he sails,
He has ever favoring gales,
By his craft in sorcery."

Here the sign of the cross
Made devoutly King Olaf.

"With rites that we both abhor,
He worships Odin and Thor;
So it cannot yet be said,

That all the old gods are dead,
And the warlocks are no more,"
Flushing with anger

Said Sigurd the Bishop.

Then King Olaf cried aloud :

"I will talk with this mighty Raud,

And along the Salten Fiord

Preach the Gospel with my sword,

Or be brought back in my shroud!"
So northward from Drontheim

Sailed King Olaf !

XI.

BISHOP SIGURD AT SALTEN FIORD

LOUD the angry wind was wailing
As King Olaf's ships came sailing
Northward out of Drontheim haven

To the mouth of Salten Fiord.

Though the flying sea-spray drenches
Fore and aft the rowers' benches,
Not a single heart is craven

Of the champions there on board.

All without the Fiord was quiet,
But within it storm and riot,

Such as on his Viking cruises

Raud the Strong was wont to ride.

And the sea through all its tide-ways
Swept the reeling vessels sideways,
As the leaves are swept through sluices,
When the flood-gates open wide.

""T is the warlock! 't is the demon Raud!" cried Sigurd to the seamen ; "But the Lord is not affrighted

By 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 planted

High amid the rain and mist.

Then with holy water sprinkled
All 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 molten

Steadily rowed King Olaf's ships;

Steadily burned all night the tapers,
And the White Christ through the vapors
Gleamed across the Fiord of Salten,

As through John's Apocalypse,

Till at last they reached Raud's dwelling
On 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;
"T was 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 asunder

Bolt 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 scoffer
Answered: "I disdain thine offer;
Neither fear I God nor Devil;

Thee and thy Gospel I defy!"

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