Then to their Temple strode he in, And loud behind him heard the din Of his men-at-arms and the peasants fiercely fighting. There in the Temple, carved in wood, The image of great Odin stood, And other gods, with Thor supreme among them. King Olaf smote them with the blade Of his huge war-axe, gold inlaid, And downward shattered to the pavement flung them. At the same moment rose without, From the contending crowd, a shout, A mingled sound of triumph and of wailing. And there upon the trampled plain The farmer Iron-Beard lay slain, Midway between the assailed and the assailing. King Olaf from the doorway spoke: "Choose ye between two things, my folk, To be baptized or given up to slaughter!" And seeing their leader stark and dead, The people with a murmur said, "O King, baptize us with thy holy water!" So all the Drontheim land became A Christian land in name and fame, In the old gods no more believing and trusting. And as a blood-atonement, soon King Olaf wed the fair Gudrun; And thus in peace ended the Drontheim Hus-Ting! VIII. GUDRUN. On King Olaf's bridal night Shines the moon with tender light, And across the chamber streams Its tide of dreams. At the fatal midnight hour, When all evil things have power, In the glimmer of the moon Stands Gudrun. Close against her heaving breast, Something in her hand is pressed; Like an icicle, its sheen Is cold and keen. On the cairn are fixed her eyes Where her murdered father lies, And a voice remote and drear She seems to hear. What a bridal night is this! Cold will be the dagger's kiss; Laden with the chill of death Is its breath. Like the drifting snow she sweeps To the couch where Olaf sleeps; Suddenly he wakes and stirs, His eyes meet hers. "What is that," King Olaf said, "Gleams so bright above thy head? Wherefore standest thou so white In pale moonlight?" "'Tis the bodkin that I wear When at night I bind my hair; It woke me falling on the floor; 'Tis nothing more." "Forests have ears, and fields have eyes; Often treachery lurking lies Underneath the fairest hair! Gudrun beware!" Ere the earliest peep of morn Blew King Olaf's bugle-horn; And forever sundered ride Bridegroom and bride! IX. THANGBRAND THE PRIEST. Short of stature, large of limb, Burly face and russet beard, All the women stared at him, When in Iceland he appeared. "Look!" they said, With nodding head, "There goes Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest." All the prayers he knew by rote, He could preach like Chrysostome, From the Fathers he could quote, He had even been at Rome. A learned clerk, A man of mark, Was this Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.