After this victory, Norway was unable to resist the conqueror. The reguli, and jarls, and native chiefs, who refused to submit, were driven into exile. Some, preferring liberty, or rather an unbridled licence, to an established government, voluntarily exiled themselves. From this year may be dated the colonisation, by Norwegian settlers, of the Orkneys, the Hebrides, the Shetlands, the Feroes, Iceland; the depredations on the coasts of Great Britain, and Ireland, and Spain; the invasion of Russia and Normandy by successful hordes of pirates. So great an emigration might, one would suppose, greatly weaken the physical resources of Harald; but this does not appear to have been the fact: on the contrary, he spared numerous families to people the wilds of Jamta, Helsingia, and other regions more to the north, which, prior to his time, are said to have been wholly or partially desert. But if Norway was thus his, he had no idle life. The pirates whom he had banished infested his coasts, until he, in person, must dislodge them from their strong holds in the islands of the western ocean. To _their_ and _his_ maritime transactions we shall advert on a future occasion.—Harald, being now the monarch of Norway, says the Saga, remembered that he had accomplished his vow, and that his hair might be cut and combed. It was surely high time, if, as we are told, he had resembled, previously, a wild beast rather than a man, and had been called Harald _Lufa_, or “Harald with the Horrid Hair.” When this deformity was removed,—when the shears and the bath had done their work,—he obtained the epithet of Harfager, or Fair-hair. And he now remembered the saying of the maiden who had excited him to all his successes. Sending for her, he made her the partner of his throne; and by her had a daughter and four sons.—All this is fabulous, but unequal to what follows, which appears to have occurred some years before this marriage. One winter, the king hastened to the uplands to hold the festivities of Yule; and he ordered the banquet to be prepared in the villa of Thopte. The evening before the opening of the feast, as he sat at table, a domestic advanced to say that a Finn, waiting at the door, wished to see him. At this bold message the anger of the king and the surprise of all present may be conceived, and an indignant answer was returned. But Swaso was resolute: he bade Harald be informed that he was the Finn whose hut was on the other side of the mountain, and whom he had promised to visit. The monarch went to the door, and immediately said that he would accompany him to the hut. On their entrance, the daughter of Swaso—a wondrous beauty—arose, and presented a horn of mead to the royal visitor. It was a magic drink, designed to make the king amorous, and it had its effect. He wished to take her as his mistress; but she had too much art for this; she would be the affianced bride, or nothing. That ceremony was