66 James Christian Lindbcrg 



Hakon. Aught more? 



Messenger. No more, my licgc. 



Hakoii. Then go. [Exit Messenger.] So, Olaf, thou wert 

 vexed when told 

 'T was not the Jarl thou 'dst killed. Thou never hitst 

 A better mark. Yet him thou didst not touch. 

 Ah, no ! My son, my Erland was not slain ; 

 Him Aegir^^ took within his loving arms. 

 And bore aloft the spotless lad to Valhal. 

 But me, his aged father, him thou 'st touched. 

 A poisonous arrow biunis within his heart. 

 Oh, Erland, Erland, Oh my son, my son ! — 

 ' Thus moved ; thou Hakon ? Tears upon thy cheeks ? 

 Long, long since last thou wept. Ah Hakon Jarl, 

 Thou 'rt getting old, thou weepest like a woman — ■ 

 But he was dear to me; ihe light, the hope 

 Of my declining years : I saw in him 

 The heir of all my faith, and Norway's throne. 

 My dreams, my fondest dreams, where flit ye now? 



\He broods a moment, then terrified says: 

 They gain upon us. drive us back ! How now ! 

 Do misty fogs envelop Valhal so ? 

 Did Odin's golden throne e'er rust or lose 

 Its beams ? Luxuriant Frigga, sleeps she now, 

 As does the birch in harvest time ? Again - 

 Has Loke stolen thy fruit, O Ydun?"'*' Where, 

 Aye, where 's thy hammer, Thor ? Where Asatyr,''" 

 Thy powerful, death-dooming left hand ? Pray tell, 

 Thou airy host, hast wrapped thyself in gloom 

 And followed Baldur down to deepest hell ?''^ — 

 Up, Hakon Jarl ! Thou art still the North's defense ! 

 They call thee heathen, thee, for thou dost fight 

 For olden times. To arms, to victory ! 

 Forgive your Hakon, ever holy gods. 

 That he has thought of self, forgetting you. 

 But hear me, hear me now ; from this hour on 

 To you, eternally, belongs my life. 



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