Olaf Trygvason

(See Note 10)     Broad the sails o'er the North Sea go;     High on deck in the morning glow     Erling Skjalgsson from Sole     Scans all the sea toward Denmark:     "Cometh never Olaf Trygvason?"     Six and fifty the ships are there,     Sails are let down, toward Denmark stare     Sun-reddened men; - then murmur:     "Where is the great Long Serpent?     Cometh never Olaf Trygvason?"     When the sun in the second dawn     Cloudward rising no mast had drawn,     Grew to a storm their clamor:     "Where is the great Long Serpent?     Cometh never Olaf Trygvason?"     Silent, silent that moment bound,     Stood they all; for from ocean's ground     Sighed round the fleet a muffled:     "Taken the great Long Serpent,     Fallen is Olaf Trygvason."     Ever since, through so many a year,     Norway's ships must beside them hear,     Clearest in nights of moonshine:     "Taken the great Long Serpent,     Fallen is Olaf Trygvason."