The hotel at Reykjavik is merely a kind of tavern, with a billiard room for the French sailors to play, lounge, and smoke in; a large adjoining room, seated round, for the Reykjavik fashionable assemblies; a smaller room up stairs, and some two or three bedrooms. On reaching it we were received by the landlord and shewn up stairs, where we found Mr. Bushby, who gave us a most courteous English welcome, notwithstanding our unintentional intrusion. He had, that morning, when the steamer came in sight, set out and ridden along the coast from the sulphur mines at Krisuvik—perhaps one of the wildest continuous rides in the world—to meet Captain Forbes.
Knowing the scant accommodation at the landlord’s disposal, he at once placed the suite of rooms he had engaged at our service, to dress and dine in, thus proving himself a friend in need. A good substantial dinner was soon under weigh, and rendered quite a success by the many good things with which Mr. Bushby kindly supplemented it, contributing them from his own private stores.
Mr. Gísli Brynjúlfsson, the young Icelandic poet—employed in antiquarian researches by the Danish Government chiefly at Copenhagen, but at present here because he is a member of the Althing or Parliament now sitting—joined us at table, having been invited by Dr. Mackinlay. He speaks English fluently, and gave us much interesting information. He kindly presented me with a volume “Nordurfari,” edited by himself and a friend, and containing amongst other articles in prose and verse, “Bruce’s Address at Bannockburn,” translated into Icelandic, in the metre of the original. This northern version of Burns’ poem may interest the reader.[[5]]
BANNOCK-BURN
ÁVARP ROBERT BRUCE TIL HERLITHS SINS.
EPTIR BURNS.
Skotar, er Wallace vördust med
Vig med Bruce opt hafid sjed;
Velkomnir ad blódgum bed,
Bjartri eda sigurfraegd!
Stund og dagur dýr nú er;
Daudinn ógnar hvar sem sjer;