| Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882). Complete Poetical Works. 1893. | | | | Tales of a Wayside Inn | Part First.
The Musician’s Tale: The Saga of King Olaf.
XVI. Queen Thyri and the Angelica Stalks |
| | | NORTHWARD over Drontheim, | |
| Flew the clamorous sea-gulls, | |
| Sang the lark and linnet | |
| From the meadows green; | |
| |
| Weeping in her chamber, | 5 |
| Lonely and unhappy, | |
| Sat the Drottning Thyri, | |
| Sat King Olaf’s Queen. | |
| |
| In at all the windows | |
| Streamed the pleasant sunshine, | 10 |
| On the roof above her | |
| Softly cooed the dove; | |
| |
| But the sound she heard not, | |
| Nor the sunshine heeded, | |
| For the thoughts of Thyri | 15 |
| Were not thoughts of love. | |
| |
| Then King Olaf entered, | |
| Beautiful as morning, | |
| Like the sun at Easter | |
| Shone his happy face; | 20 |
| |
| In his hand he carried | |
| Angelicas uprooted, | |
| With delicious fragrance | |
| Filling all the place. | |
| |
| Like a rainy midnight | 25 |
| Sat the Drottning Thyri, | |
| Even the smile of Olaf | |
| Could not cheer her gloom; | |
| |
| Nor the stalks he gave her | |
| With a gracious gesture, | 30 |
| And with words as pleasant | |
| As their own perfume. | |
| |
| In her hands he placed them, | |
| And her jewelled fingers | |
| Through the green leaves glistened | 35 |
| Like the dews of morn; | |
| |
| But she cast them from her, | |
| Haughty and indignant, | |
| On the floor she threw them | |
| With a look of scorn. | 40 |
| |
| “Richer presents,” said she, | |
| “Gave King Harald Gormson | |
| To the Queen, my mother, | |
| Than such worthless weeds; | |
| |
| “When he ravaged Norway, | 45 |
| Laying waste the kingdom, | |
| Seizing scatt and treasure | |
| For her royal needs. | |
| |
| “But thou darest not venture | |
| Through the Sound to Vendland, | 50 |
| My domains to rescue | |
| From King Burislaf; | |
| |
| “Lest King Svend of Denmark, | |
| Forked Beard, my brother, | |
| Scatter all thy vessels | 55 |
| As the wind the chaff.” | |
| |
| Then up sprang King Olaf, | |
| Like a reindeer bounding, | |
| With an oath he answered | |
| Thus the luckless Queen: | 60 |
| |
| “Never yet did Olaf | |
| Fear King Svend of Denmark; | |
| This right hand shall hale him | |
| By his forked chin!” | |
| |
| Then he left the chamber, | 65 |
| Thundering through the doorway, | |
| Loud his steps resounded | |
| Down the outer stair. | |
| |
| Smarting with the insult, | |
| Through the streets of Drontheim | 70 |
| Strode he red and wrathful, | |
| With his stately air. | |
| |
| All his ships he gathered, | |
| Summoned all his forces, | |
| Making his war levy | 75 |
| In the region round. | |
| |
| Down the coast of Norway, | |
| Like a flock of sea-gulls, | |
| Sailed the fleet of Olaf | |
| Through the Danish Sound. | 80 |
| |
| With his own hand fearless | |
| Steered he the Long Serpent, | |
| Strained the creaking cordage, | |
| Bent each boom and gaff; | |
| |
| Till in Vendland landing, | 85 |
| The domains of Thyri | |
| He redeemed and rescued | |
| From King Burislaf. | |
| |
| Then said Olaf, laughing, | |
| “Not ten yoke of oxen | 90 |
| Have the power to draw us | |
| Like a woman’s hair! | |
| |
| “Now will I confess it, | |
| Better things are jewels | |
| Than angelica stalks are | 95 |
| For a queen to wear.” | | | | |
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