“The Mass is the word of our blessed Lord.
Take water, ye swains, for our table board.
“We will sit at board, and the bread we will taste,
Then unto the sea-shore will we haste.”
Now down they all sped to the ocean strand,
Where the Ox lay rocking before the land.
And speedily they to the ocean bore
The anchor, and cable, the sail and oar.
Saint Oluf he stood on the prow when on board:
“Now forward, thou Ox, in the name of the Lord!”
He grappled the Ox by the horn so white:
“Hie now as if thou went clover to bite!”
Then forward the Ox began to hie,
In his wake roll’d the billows boisterously.
He hallooed to the lad on the yard so high:
“Do we the Dragon of Harald draw nigh?”
“No more of the pomps of the world I see,
Than the uppermost top of the good oak tree.
“I see, ’neath the land of Norroway, skim
Bright silken sails with a golden rim.