Round him busily hewed and hammered Workmen laughed and sang and clamored; Spun the shining flax! All this tumult heard the master, It was music to his ear; Workmen sweating at the forges Like a warlock's midnight orgies Did the warlocks mingle in it, Thorberg Skafting, any curse? Could you not be gone a minute But some mischief must be doing, Turning bad to worse? "T was an ill wind that came wafting, Build ye thus and so. After long delays returning Came the master back by night; To his ship-yard longing, yearning, Hurried he, and did not leave it Till the morning's light. "Come and see my ship, my darling!" On the morrow said the King; "Finished now from keel to carling; Never yet was seen in Norway Such a wondrous thing!" In the ship-yard, idly talking, At the ship the workmen stared: Some one, all their labor balking, Down her sides had cut deep gashes, Not a plank was spared! "Death be to the evil-doer! " With an oath King Olaf spoke; "But rewards to his pursuer!" And with wrath his face grew redder Straight the master-builder, smiling, Answered thus the angry King: "Cease blaspheming and reviling, Olaf, it was Thorberg Skafting Who has done this thing!" Then he chipped and smoothed the planking, Till the King, delighted, swore, With much lauding and much thanking, "Handsomer is now my Dragon Than she was before!" Seventy ells and four extended Then they launched her from the tressels, She was the grandest of all vessels, The Long Serpent was she christened, 'Mid the roar of cheer on cheer! They who to the Saga listened Heard the name of Thorberg Skafting For a hundred year! XIV. THE CREW OF THE LONG SERPENT SAFE at anchor in Drontheim bay And, striped with white and blue, Downward fluttered sail and banner, As alights the screaming lanner; Lustily cheered, in their wild manner, The Long Serpent's crew. Her forecastle man was Ulf the Red; Near him Kolbiorn had his place, Wondered at his cloak of scarlet: Gleamed his coat of mail. By the bulkhead, tall and dark, Stood Thrand Rame of Thelemark, A figure gaunt and grand; On his hairy arm imprinted Was an anchor, azure-tinted; Like Thor's hammer, huge and dinted Was his brawny hand. Einar Tamberskelver, bare Graceful was his form, and slender, In the fore-hold Biorn and Bork Thirty men they each commanded, Iron-sinewed, horny-handed, Shoulders broad, and chests expanded, Tugging at the oar. These, and many more like these, With King Olaf sailed the seas, Till the waters vast Filled them with a vague devotion, With the freedom and the motion, |