what he took from the historical record. With this object in view, practically everything in the sagas that he made use of is here reprinted-many chapters of the Saga of Olaf the Holy in the Heimskringla of Snorri Sturluson, and the two chapters of the Great Olaf Trygvason Saga, drawn upon for the sixth Song. The translator has had before him the original edition of 1870 as well as later reprints of the poem. These reprints embody no changes of any consequence, except in the orthography. Much use has been made of J. Mörland's commentary (Om Björnstjerne Björnson's "Arnljot Gelline") in the preparation of the Notes. The translator is also indebted to Miss Hanna Astrup Larsen for many helpful suggestions concerning the text. WILLIAM MORTON PAYNE Chicago, February, 1917 FIRST SONG THE SKI-JOURNEY OW they go hurrying, HOW How they go scurrying! Three men on a single pair of ski; Rushing past village, and mountain, and tree, And the Yule-tide near, See the vale below them, dotted with its lights! How they go hurrying, Iamtlanders follow, a drunken rout, Unleashing their bloodhounds, to scent them out, As the bright moonlight Floods the wintry night Black lie the shadows cast by the forest. How they go hurrying, How they go scurrying! Doomed to the altar, a messenger pair, Catch them again! Hungrily howl the ancient wolves of Odin. How they go hurrying, On the ski they stand but at shoulder-height Of their rescuer's frame, as, wild with fright, While on safety bent, Strikes he still onward, as were he alone. How they go hurrying, How they go scurrying! Through the deep-drifted snow in their headlong flight, Lost to men's view as they flee through the night, Past wild beast and troll, Now they speed toward their goal Halt! Yonder a hovel half-hid in the forest. How they went hurrying, How they went scurrying! In they crept, kindled fire 'gainst the winter's rigor, Food he set forth, and restored them to vigor, Then landed with a leap On the loft for sleep, Heaving men and weapons up before him. How they went hurrying, How they went scurrying! Then came the Iamtlanders' footsore pack, Nosed them and gnawed; Men and dogs soon were all snoring in sleep. |