“ "Far north in the Salten Fiord, To him and his heathen horde." “A warlock, a wizard is he, By his craft in sorcery." Here the sign of the cross made "With rites that we both abhor, That all the old gods are dead, Said Sigurd the Bishop. Then King Olaf cried aloud: ΧΙ. BISHOP SIGURD AT SALTEN FIORD. LOUD the angry wind was wailing To the mouth of Salten Fiord. Though the flying sea-spray drenches Of the champions there on board. All without the Fiord was quiet, Raud the Strong was wont to ride. And the sea through all its tide-ways ""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, On the bow stood Bishop Sigurd, High amid the rain and mist. Then with holy water sprinkled As into the Fiord they darted, Down a path like silver molten Steadily rowed King Olaf's ships; Steadily burned all night the tapers, 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, Up the stairway, softly creeping, 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! Be baptized, or thou shalt die!" But in scorn the heathen scoffer Thee and thy Gospel I defy!" Then between his jaws distended, Touched by fire, they forced to glide. Sharp his tooth was as an arrow, Raud the Strong blaspheming died. Then baptized they all that region, Up the streams of Salten Fiord. In their temples Thor and Odin Preached the Gospel with his sword. Then he took the carved and gilded Grasping, steered into the main. Southward sailed the sea-gulls o'er him, Southward sailed the ship that bore him, Till at Drontheim haven landed Olaf and his crew again. |