“King Gylfi ruled over the land of Svithiod (Sweden), and at that uncertain date which is generally known as ‘once upon a time,’ he recompensed a strange woman, for some service she had done him, with as much land as she could plough round with four oxen in a day and a night; but he did not know, till the share struck deep into the earth and tore asunder hills and rocks, that it was the Goddess Gefjon that he was dealing with. So deep were the furrows, that the place where the land had been became water, for the oxen, which had come from Jötenheim (the land of the Goths), were really her sons, whom she had yoked to her plough.”
“Phew-w-w,” whistled the Parson.
“What is the matter?” said Birger.
“Only that as Gefjon is the northern Diana, I thought you might have made a mistake; her nephews, possibly, not her sons?”
“O, that goes for nothing in Sweden,” said the Captain, laughing; “there are plenty of cases in point. I have no doubt Birger is quite right.”
“Well, if you come to scandalising national divinities,” retorted Birger, “I am sure that story about Endymion was never cleared up very satisfactorily.”
“Clear up your own story, at all events, and place the oxen in any relationship to the maiden goddess which you may think best suited to her fair fame.”
“Then I will call them what the Edda calls them,” said Birger, gallantly, “her sons, and never sully the fair fame of the maiden Gefjon either. The whole is an allegory. Sweden achieved the sea-path, or inland navigation by the labour of her own sons, and that is what the old Skald Bragi means when he likens them to oxen, and says—
“‘Four heads and eight eyes bearing,
While hot sweat trickled down them,