“THE GREAT JARL.” 365 
But the spell is broken now, and I retract my evil 
thoughts of the warlock and you. 
Yesterday, we made an excursion as far as Lade, saw a 
waterfall, which is one of the lions of this neighbourhood 
(but a very mitigated lion, which “ roars you as soft as any 
sucking dove”), and returned in the evening to attend a 
ball given to celebrate the visit of the Crown Prince. 
At Lade, I confess I could think of nothing but 
“ the great Jarl,” Hacon, the counsellor, and maker of 
kings, king himself in all but the name, for he ruled 
over the western sea-board of Norway, while Olaf 
Tryggvesson was yet a wanderer and exile. He is 
certainly one of the most picturesque figures of these 
Norwegian dramas;—what with his rude wit, his per¬ 
sonal bravery, and that hereditary beauty of his race, 
for which he was conspicuous above the rest. His very 
errors, great as they were, have a dash and prestige 
about them, which in that rude time must have dazzled 
men’s eyes, and especially women s, as his story proves. 
It was his sudden passion for the beautiful Gudrun 
Lyrgia (the “ Sun of Lunde,” as she was called), which 
precipitated the avenging fate which years of heart¬ 
burnings and discontent among his subjects had been 
