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The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (A Selection)


 


XIII

THE BUILDING OF THE LONG SERPENT


Thorberg Skafting, master-builder,
        In his ship-yard by the sea,
Whistling, said, "It would bewilder
Any man but Thorberg Skafting,
        Any man but me!"

Near him lay the Dragon stranded,
        Built of old by Raud the Strong,
And King Olaf had commanded
He should build another Dragon,
        Twice as large and long.

Therefore whistled Thorberg Skafting,
        As he sat with half-closed eyes,
And his head turned sideways, drafting
That new vessel for King Olaf
        Twice the Dragon's size.

Round him busily hewed and hammered
        Mallet huge and heavy axe;
Workmen laughed and sang and clamored;
Whirred the wheels, that into rigging
        Spun the shining flax!

All this tumult heard the master, ---
        It was music to his ear;
Fancy whispered all the faster,
"Men shall hear of Thorberg Skafting
        For a hundred year!"

Workmen sweating at the forges
        Fashioned iron bolt and bar,
Like a warlock's midnight orgies
Smoked and bubbled the black caldron
        With the boiling tar.

Did the warlocks mingle in it,
        Thorberg Skafting, any curse?
Could you not be gone a minute
But some mischief must be doing,
        Turning bad to worse?

'T was an ill wind that came wafting,
        From his homestead words of woe
To his farm went Thorberg Skafting,
Oft repeating to his workmen,
        Build ye thus and so.

After long delays returning
        Came the master back by night
To his ship-yard longing, yearning,
Hurried he, and did not leave it
        Till the morning's light.

"Come and see my ship, my darling
        On the morrow said the King;
"Finished now from keel to carling;
Never yet was seen in Norway
        Such a wondrous thing!"

In the ship-yard, idly talking,
        At the ship the workmen stared;
Some one, all their labor balking,
Down her sides had cut deep gashes,
        Not a plank was spared!

"Death be to the evil-doer!"
        With an oath King Olaf spoke;
"But rewards to his pursuer!"
And with wrath his face grew redder
        Than his scarlet cloak.

Straight the master-builder, smiling,
        Answered thus the angry King:
"Cease blaspheming and reviling,
Olaf, it was Thorberg Skafting
        Who has done this thing!"

Then he chipped and smoothed the planking,
        Till the King, delighted, swore,
With much lauding and much thinking,
"Handsomer is now my Dragon
        Than she was before!"

Seventy ells and four extended
        On the grass the vessel's keel;
High above it, gilt and splendid,
Rose the figure-head ferocious
        With its crest of steel.

Then they launched her from the tressels,
        In the ship yard by the sea;
She was the grandest of all vessels,
Never ship was built in Norway
        Half so fine as she!

The Long Serpent was she christened,
        'Mid the roar of cheer on cheer!
They who to the Saga listened
Heard the name of Thorberg Skafting
        For a hundred year!

XIV

THE CREW OF THE LONG SERPENT



Safe at anchor in Drontheim bay
King Olaf's fleet assembled lay,
        And, striped with white and blue,
Downward fluttered sail and banner,
As alights the screaming lanner;
Lustily cheered, in their wild manner,
        The Long Serpent's crew.

Her forecastle man was Ulf the Red
Like a wolf's was his shaggy head,
        His teeth as large and white;
His beard, of gray and russet blended,
Round as a swallow's nest descended;
As standard-bearer he defended
        Olaf's flag in the fight.

Near him Kolbiorn had his place,
Like the King in garb and face,
        So gallant and so hale;
Every cabin-boy and varlet
Wondered at his cloak of scarlet;
Like a river, frozen and star-lit,
        Gleamed his coat of mail.

By the bulkhead, tall and dark,
Stood Thrand Rame of Thelemark.
        A figure gaunt and grand;
On his hairy arm imprinted
Was an anchor, azure-tinted;
Like Thor's hammer, huge and dinted
        Was his brawny hand.

Einar Tamberskelver, bare
To the winds his golden hair,
        By the mainmast stood;
Graceful was his form, and slender,
And his eyes were deep and tender
As a woman's, in the splendor
        Of her maidenhood.

In the fore-hold Biorn and Bork
Watched the sailors at their work;
        Heavens! how they swore!
Thirty men they each commanded,
Iron-sinewed, horny-handed,
Shoulders broad, and chests expanded,
        Tugging at the oar.

These, and many more like these,
With King Olaf sailed the seas,
        Till the waters vast
Filled them with a vague devotion,
With the freedom and the motion,
With the roll and roar of ocean
        And the sounding blast.

When they landed from the fleet,
How they roared through Drontheim's street,
        Boisterous as the gale!
How they laughed and stamped and pounded,
Till the tavern roof resounded,
And the host looked on astounded
        As they drank the ale!

Never saw the wild North Sea
Such a gallant company
        Sail its billows blue!
Never, while they cruised and quarrelled,
Old King Gorm, or Blue-Tooth Harald,
Owned a ship so well apparelled,
        Boasted such a crew!



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