“Now who comes here, so overbold,
My magic to defy it?
Harken, thou with the ruddy beard!
Full sore thou shalt abye it!
“Now nor never by this my coast
Dares any ship to linger!
I could drag thee into the rifts o’ the rocks
With the touch of my smallest finger!”
“Hear now, Ara, thou ancient imp,
Nor anger thyself at all!
Seize thou the ship as it liketh thee,
And see what will befall.”
He took the ship by stem and stern,
To work her dule and dree,
When lo! he sank down into the stone,
That held him by the knee.
“Here stand I, sunken in the stone,
To go no more a-roving!
At wrestling or at hand-play hard
Thy strength I’d fain be proving.”
“Now tarry thou there, thou wilful wight,
All under my powerful charm—
Tarry thou there till Doomsday dread,
And work no Christian harm.”
Out came running his evil mate,
And stretched her neck so grim;
Saint Olaf spake one little word,
Bade her stand still by him.
Up and spake the little trolls
Who sat i’ the hill down under—
They asked where the mother-troll might be,
With mickle woe and wonder.
“Perchance this is the Red-beard’s work
Who hath harried our race so long!
But come we forth with our brands of iron,
To work him wrong for wrong.”
Up and spake our goodly king—
He held it a game so merry:
“Stone to stone, and rock to rock,
Together ye all shall tarry!”