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THE SUMMER MARCH 65
“« Great to behold thee, liege-lord,
Marching to battle ’gainst tyranny and hate;
With thy campaign will we
Join forces.”
“None may join me who is
Not a Christian.’? —
Forward he rode through the valley,
Low sank the sun, in a blood-red sky,
Hill-tops and grassy meadows
Light-flooding.
Steel-gray and cold flowed the river,
Broad between heather and woodland and marsh,
Flowed till it reached the great farmsteads,
And halted,
Reached at even the shining fjords
In the distance.
The paths which then they were taking
Wound o’er the hill-side, the whole valley revealed,
The skalds sang at the prospect
At eventide.
First came the song of Tormod,
He who was called Kolbrunarskald;
At his voice every man of them heartened
And listened.
The hills and the mighty forests
Gave answer.
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