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THE BATTLE OF STIKLESTAD
When he met the foemen,
Shrank they back in wonder,
Long while no one lifted
A hand.
Torgeir of Kvistad
Struck he down, saying:
“ Recallest how I forecast
Thy death?”
Olaf, son of Arngrim,
Struck he down, saying:
‘“‘Wrong thy reckoning, Olaf,
This day.”
Tore Hund of Bjarkéi
Smote he—but the sword-stroke
Bit not through his troll-fur,
But slipped.
“Thou, Bjorn, smite the dog down
Who dulls my sword-edge!”
Bjorn with battle-hammer
Him smote.
Tore Hund then fell not,
Rested a moment,
Then with his long spear
Pierced Bjorn:
‘Thus slay we bears
Up north in Finmark!”
At the King’s feet then
Fell Bjorn,
Then his great eyes
Tat
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