NINTH SONG

THE SUMMER MARCH

Now it was Olaf Digre

Came through the forest down toward Tröndelag, The host its way slowly winding

None to approach him ventured;—

Though every heart was o'erflowing, they silence kept. Gently sloping, the homeland

Before them lay.

Birds rose up from the meadows,

The mid-day smoke over the forest swept;
The bishop was bade to sing praises
To the Lord.

Joyous the sight of home

After absence.

Rode then Bishop Sigurd

Forward the King to question; but made halt

While at some distance from him,

And waited.

The King's august countenance
Shone with the light of a distant glory seen,
Nothing his gaze now visioned

On earth.

"Wondrous must be what thou seest,
Lord King!"

Slowly the King then answered:

"First saw I the land, here before me lying, In the light of the days so joyous

It gave me.

But saw I ever farther.

Tröndelag saw I, blue and yellow it lay;

Yes, saw I the summer over

All Norway,

Fjords with meadows and woods
Among the mountains.

"Pierced then my gaze yet farther

Out o'er the sea to distant foreign shores,
All that in my life's springtime

I visited.

Raised in my soul the vision,

With laughter and gladness it filled my heart: The world entire I lastly

Then beheld.

My spirit it seemed to invoke

As in farewell."

"Lord," the bishop then answered:

"Rather thou seest how far the light of Christ,
As thou in this land hast borne it,
Shall shine.

The whole world in coming ages

Shall grow through the warm summer-tide in that

light;

The Lord hath vouchsafed thee the vision

For thy strengthening."

The twain rode farther on

In silence.

Stood there an aged bonder

Before his house on the road of their march,
In the King's presence bowing:

"Be welcome!

Now is fulfilled my saying:

Within a year's space shall the King come again; Ne'er will he leave his faithful

In distress.

Sore was the need of thy ward,
Lord King."

"Thanks for thy greeting, bonder,

The first I receive on my fatherland's soil.
Why standest thou alone now

Farther down the valley

There they are.

Luck to thy meeting with them!
Courage surely will fail the most of them
The King's countenance beholding
The cross guarding.

Heavy am I and old,

But I follow."

Then to the King said some one:
"Their treachery punish, burn their farmsteads;
As soon as they glimpse the fire,
All shame-faced,

Tremble will they for wives and children,
Cowed by uncertainty, maddened by fear,
Soon will their forces scatter,

Flight taking,

Making their army disband

In a moment."

Gentle of mood the King answered:
"The land I redeem, or perish myself;
After me shall it yet blossom
For your sake."

Came then a bonder weeping,

Poor was he, and bewailed his loss: "Lord, thy men have down-trodden My corn-field."

The King rode about the field,

To life it started.

Met him another bonder,

"Help me, O King, thee my sons will join; But they are far too youthful,

I bound them."

Then said the pious King, smiling:

"Release them, friend, and follow in their steps. So shall ye all come scatheless

From the conflict."

Father followed sons-and they

The King followed.

Met him then many bonders,

Stood they together, greeted their liege:

"Lord, what guerdon awaits us,

Who follow?"

"In the sight of the Saviour to fall,

Lose your goods, and all ye

hold dear,"

Quietly the King answered;

Rode forward.

The bonders weapons them found,
And followed.

Met them three hundred outlaws,

Gathered together from every neighboring part, But mostly from Iamtland's forests;

Thus spoke they :