| |
| AND then the blue-eyed Norseman told | |
| A Saga of the days of old. | |
| “There is,” said he, “a wondrous book | |
| Of Legends in the old Norse tongue, | |
| Of the dead kings of Norroway,— | 5 |
| Legends that once were told or sung | |
| In many a smoky fireside nook | |
| Of Iceland, in the ancient day, | |
| By wandering Saga-man or Scald; | |
| ‘Heimskringla’ is the volume called; | 10 |
| And he who looks may find therein | |
| The story that I now begin.” | |
| |
| And in each pause the story made | |
| Upon his violin he played, | |
| As an appropriate interlude, | 15 |
| Fragments of old Norwegian tunes | |
| That bound in one the separate runes, | |
| And held the mind in perfect mood, | |
| Entwining and encircling all | |
| The strange and antiquated rhymes | 20 |
| With melodies of olden times; | |
| As over some half-ruined wall, | |
| Disjointed and about to fall, | |
| Fresh woodbines climb and interlace, | |
| And keep the loosened stones in place. | 25 |
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