King Olaf’s War-Horns
“STRIKE the sails!” King Olaf said; “Never shall men of mine take flight; Never away from battle I fled, Never away from my foes! Let God dispose Of my life in the fight!” “Sound the horns!” said Olaf the King; And suddenly through the drifting brume The blare of the horns began to ring, Like the terrible trumpet shock Of Regnarock, On the Day of Doom! Louder and louder the war-horns sang Over the level floor of the flood; All the sails came down with a clang, And there in the mist overhead The sun hung red As a drop of blood. Drifting down on the Danish fleet Three together the ships were lashed, So that neither should turn and retreat; In the midst, but in front of the rest The burnished crest Of the Serpent flashed. King Olaf stood on the quarter-deck, With bow of ash and arrows of oak, His gilded shield was without a fleck, His helmet inlaid with gold, And in many a fold Hung his crimson cloak. On the forecastle Ulf the Red Watched the lashing of the ships; “If the Serpent lie so far ahead, We shall have hard work of it here,” Said he with a sneer On his bearded lips. King Olaf laid an arrow on string, “Have I a coward on board?” said he. “Shoot it another way, O King!” Sullenly answered Ulf, The old sea-wolf; “You have need of me!” In front came Svend, the King of the Danes, Sweeping down with his fifty rowers; To the right, the Swedish king with his thanes; And on board of the Iron Beard Earl Eric steered To the left with his oars. “These soft Danes and Swedes,” said the King, “At home with their wives had better stay, Than come within reach of my Serpent’s sting: But where Eric the Norseman leads Heroic deeds Will be done to-day!” Then as together the vessels crashed, Eric severed the cables of hide With which King Olaf’s ships were lashed, And left them to drive and drift With the currents swift Of the outward tide. Louder the war-horns growl and snarl, Sharper the dragons bite and sting! Eric the son of Hakon Jarl A death-drink salt as the sea Pledges to thee, Olaf the King!
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