id="pgepubid00025"/>“No more of the pomps of the world I see,
Than the uppermost top of the good oak tree.

“I see, ’neath the land of Norroway, skim
Bright silken sails with a golden rim.

“I see, ’neath Norroway’s mountains proud,
The Dragon bearing of sail a cloud.

“I see, I see, by Norroway’s side,
The Dragon gallantly forward stride!”

On the ribs of the Ox a blow he gave:
“Now faster, faster, over the wave!”

He struck the Ox on the eye with force:
“To the haven much speedier thou must course!”

Then forward the Ox began to leap,
No sailor on deck his stand could keep.

Then cords he took, and his mariners fast
He tied to the vessel’s sheets and mast.

’Twas then, ’twas then, the steersman cried:
“But who shall now the vessel guide?”

His white gloves off Saint Oluf throws,
And he himself to the rudder goes.

“O we will sail o’er cliff and height,
The nearest way like a line of light.”

So o’er the hills and dales they career,
To them they became like water clear.

They sailed along o’er the mountains blue,
Then out came running the Elfin crew.

“Who sails o’er the gold in which we joy?
Our ancient father who dares annoy?”

“Elf, turn to stone and a stone remain,
Till I by this path return again!”

So they sailed o’er Skaaney’s mountains tall,
And stones became the little elves all.

Out came a Carline, with spindle and rok:
“Saint Oluf! why sailest thou us to mock?

“Saint Oluf, thou who the red beard hast,
Through my chamber wall thy ship hath passed.”

With a glance of scorn did Saint Oluf say:
“Stand there a flint rock for ever and aye!”

Unchided, unhindered, they bravely sailed on,
Before them yielded both stock and stone.

Still onward they sailed in such gallant guise,
That no man upon them could fix his eyes.

Saint Oluf a bow before his knee bent,
Behind the sail dropped the shaft he sent.

From the prow Saint Oluf a barb shot free,
Behind the Ox fell the shaft in the sea.

Saint Oluf he trusted In Christ alone,
And therefore home by three days he won.

That made Harald with fury storm,
Of a laidly dragon he took the form.

But the Saint was a man of devotion full,
And the Saint gat Norroway’s land to rule.

Into the Church Saint Oluf strode,
He thanked the Saviour in fervent mode.

Saint Oluf walked the Church about,
There shone a glory his ringlets out.

Whom God doth help makes bravely his way,
His enemies win but shame and dismay.

TO SCRIBBLERS [30]

Would it not be more dignified
To run up debts on every side,
And then to pay your debts refuse,
Than write for rascally Reviews?
And lectures give to great and small,
In pothouse, theatre, and town-hall,
Wearing your brains by night and day
To win the means to pay your way?
I vow by him who reigns in [hell],
It would be more respectable!

TO A CONCEITED WOMAN

Be still, be still, and speak not back again.
What right have you to answer in this strain?
Whilst I’m a man, a prince of the creation,