“When western waves were all unknown,
And western fields were all unsown,
When Iceland was the outmost bound
That roving viking-keels had found—
Gunbiorn then—Ulf Kraka’s son—
Still farther west was forced to run
By furious gales, and there saw land
Stretching abroad on either hand.
Eric of Iceland, called the Red,
Heard of the news and straightway said—
‘This western land I’ll go and see;
Three summers hence look out for me.’
He went; he landed; stayed awhile,
And wintered first on ‘Eric’s Isle;’
Then searched the coast both far and wide,
Then back to Iceland o’er the tide.
‘A wondrous land is this,’ said he,
And called it Greenland of the sea.
Twenty and five great ships sailed west
To claim this gem on Ocean’s breast.
With man and woman, horn and hoof,
And bigging for the homestead roof.
Some turnèd back—in heart but mice—
Some sank amid the Northern ice.
Half reached the land, in much distress,
At Ericsfiord and Heriulfness.
Next, Biarne—Heriulf’s doughty son—
Sought to trace out the aged one. (His father.)
From Norway sailed, but missed his mark;
Passed snow-topped Greenland in the dark;
And came then to a new-found land—
But did not touch the tempting strand;
For winter winds oppressed him sore
And kept him from his father’s shore.
Then Leif, the son of Eric, rose
And straightway off to Biarne goes,
Buys up his ship, takes all his men,
Fares forth to seek that land again.
Leif found the land; discovered more,
And spent a winter on the shore;
Cut trees and grain to load the ship,
And pay them for the lengthened trip.
Named ‘Hella-land’ and ‘Markland’ too,
And saw an island sweet with dew!
And grapes in great abundance found,
So named it Vinland all around.
But after that forsook the shore,
And north again for Greenland bore.
And now—we cross the moonlit seas
To search this land of grapes and trees
Biarne, Thorward, Karlsefin—
Go forth this better land to win,
With men and cattle not a few,
And household gear and weapons too;
And, best of all, with women dear,
To comfort, counsel, check, and cheer.
Thus far we’ve made a prosp’rous way,
God speed us onward every day!”
They all agreed that this was a true account of the discovery of Vinland and of their own expedition as far as it had gone, though Gudrid said it was short, and Freydissa was of opinion that there was very little in it.
“But hold!” exclaimed Biarne, suddenly raising himself on his elbows; “Karlsefin, you are but a sorry skald after all.”
“How so?” asked the skipper.
“Why, because you have made no mention of the chief part of our voyage.”
“And pray what may that be?”
“Stay, I too am a skald; I will tell you.”
Biarne, whose poetical powers were not of the highest type, here stretched forth his hand and said:—
“When Biarne, Thorward, Karlsefin,
This famous voyage did begin,
They stood upon the deck one night,
And there beheld a moving sight.
It made the very men grow pale,
Their shudder almost rent the sail!
For lo! they saw a mighty whale!
It drew a shriek from Olaf brave,
Then plunged beneath the briny wave,
And, while the women loudly shouted,
Up came its blundering nose and spouted.
Then underneath our keel it went,
And glared with savage fury pent,
And round about the ship it swum,
Striking each man and woman dumb.
Stay—one there was who found a tongue
And still retained her strength of lung.
Freydissa, beauteous matron bold,
Resolved to give that whale a scold!
But little cared that monster fish
To gratify Freydissa’s wish;
He shook his tail, that naughty whale,
And flourished it like any flail,
And, ho! for Vinland he made sail!”
“Now, friends, was not that a great omission on the part of Karlsefin?”