Part 10

St. Oluf climb'd the vessel's side; His courage nought could tame! "Heave up, heave up the anchor straight; Let's go in Jesu's name.

"The cross shall be my faulchion now-- The book of God my shield; And, arm'd with them, I hope and trust To make the demons yield."

And swift, as eagle cleaves the sky, The gallant vessel flew; Direct for Hornelummer's rock, Through ocean's wavy blue.

'T was early in the morning tide When she cast anchor there; And, lo! the Jutt stood on the cliff, To breathe the morning air:

His eyes were like the burning beal-- His mouth was all awry; The truth I tell, and say he stood Full twenty cubits high:

His beard was like a horse's mane, And down his bosom roll'd; The claws that fenc'd his finger ends Were frightful to behold.

"I never yet have seen," he cried, "A ship come near my strand, That here to shore I could not drag, By putting out my hand."

The good St. Oluf smil'd thereat, And thus address'd his crew: "Now hold your tongues, and well observe What I'm about to do."

The giant stretch'd his mighty arm; The ship was nigh his own; But when St. Oluf rais'd the cross, He sank knee-deep in stone.

"Here am I, sunk knee-deep in stone! My legs I cannot move; But, since my back and fists are free, My might thou yet shalt prove."

"Be still, be still, thou noisy guest-- Be still for evermore; Become a rock and beetle there, Above the billows hoar."

Up started then, from out the hill, The demon's hoary wife; She curs'd the king a thousand times, And brandish'd high her knife.

Sore wonder'd then the little elves, Who sat within the hill, To see their mother, all at once, Stand likewise stiff and still:

"'T is done," they cried, "by yonder wight, Who rides upon the waves; Let's wade out to him, through the surf, And beat him with our staves."

At Hornelummer happen'd then, What happen'd ne'er before; The elfins wish'd to leave the hill, And could not find a door:

They ran their heads against the wall, And tried to break it through; They could not break the solid rock, But broke their necks in lieu.

Now, thanks to God, and Jesus Christ, And good St. Oluf's arm, To Hornelummer we can sail Without mishap or harm.

THE HEROES OF DOVREFELD. FROM THE OLD DANISH.

On Dovrefeld, {f:6} in Norway, Were once together seen The twelve heroic brothers Of Ingeborg, the queen:

And they were all magicians, Possest of mighty art, Who freely read the Runic, And knew the rhyme by heart. {f:7}

The first could turn the lightning, And quench its ruddy gleam: The second, with a whisper, Could still the running stream:

The third beneath the water Could dive like any fish: The fourth could get provision By striking on his dish:

The fifth upon the gold harp So pleasantly could play, That all the men who heard him Began to dance away:

The sixth, he had a bugle, And when he blew a blast, The stoutest of his foemen Would fly before him fast:

The seventh, unimpeded, Through solid hills could roam: The eighth could walk the ocean, When billows were in foam:

The ninth could draw, by magic, The fishes from the deep: The tenth was never weary, Nor overcome by sleep:

The eleventh bound the dragon Which crept among the grass; And all he wish'd to happen Was sure to come to pass:

The twelfth, who was reputed The wisest of the band, Knew what was going forward In every foreign land.