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night when Oluf Hakonson, with iron and with
fire, burst his onward way through the stubborn
ground; before the day breaks the waters of the
Mälar roll there; the Norwegian prince, Oluf
sailed through the royal channel he had cut in
the east. The stockades, where the iron chains
hang, must bear the defences; the citizens from
the burnt-down Sigtuna erect themselves a
bulwark here, and build their new, little town
on stock-holms.[1]
The clouds go, and the years go! Do you
see how the gables grow? there rise towers
and forts. Birger Jarl makes the town of
Stockholm a fortress; the warders stand with
bow and arrow on the walls, reconnoitring
over lake and fjord, over Brunkaberg
sand-ridge. There were the sand-ridge slopes
upwards from Rörstrand’s Lake they build
Clara cloister, and between it and the town a
street springs up: several more appear; they
form an extensive city, which soon becomes the
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