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Denna sida har korrekturlästs minst en gång.
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(historik)
Olaf, of men known as Digre,
Fashions with new-shaped law.
And it must be admitted
’’Ours’’ is wasting away.
Here where outlawry is banned
Stands a man of shameful misdeeds.
Odin now has grown old,
Is sorely afflicted with coughing,
Else had he spoken to-day
In words that had put you to shame.
But if his law shall be silenced
Here in the Iamtlanders’ Thing,
Then also must Tore be silent,
All of whose life was law.
Speak then, thou Arnljot Gelline,
Whom the Iamtlanders rather would list.
Herewith is the Thing-session over,
Lawman ye have no more.”
Down he stepped, with trembling hand
Grasping the ancient law-book,
Withholding a farewell gesture,
Turned he about and went.
As a cloud, gray-woven, storm-laden,
Hangs o’er the boughs of the forest,
Weighed Lawman Tore’s words
Heavily on his hearers’ mood.
Bent stood the men, and silent,
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