e king asked
him, "Who owns the house thou art dwelling in?"

He replies, "Sire, you own it, and take rent for it."

The king: "Show us the way round the ness, for here thou must be a good
pilot."

The old man went into his boat and rowed before the king's ship; and
when he had rowed a little way a crow came flying over the ship, and
croaking hideously. The peasant listens to the crow. The king said, "Do
you think, bonde, that betokens anything?"

"Sire, that is certain," said he.

Then another crow flies over the ship, and screeches dreadfully. The
bonde was so ill hearing this that he could not row, and the oars hung
loose in his hands.

Then said the king, "Thy mind is turned much to these crows, bonde, and
to what they say."

The bonde replies, "Now I suspect it is true what they say."

The third time the crow came flying screeching at its very worst, and
almost settling on the ship. Now the bonde threw down his oars, regarded
them no more, and stood up before the king.

Then the king said, "Thou art taking this much to heart, bonde; what is
it they say?"

The peasant--"It is likely that either they or I have misunderstood--"

"Say on," replied the king.

The bonde replied in a song:--

"The 'one-year old'
Mere nonsense told;
The 'two-years' chatter
Seemed senseless matter;
The three-years' croak
Of wonders spoke.
The foul bird said
My old mare's head
I row along;
And, in her song,
She said the thief
Was the land's chief."

The king said, "What is this, bonde! Wilt thou call me a thief?"

Then the king gave him good presents, and remitted all the land-rent of
the place he lived on. So says Stein:--

"The pillar of our royal race
Stands forth adorned with every grace.
What king before e'er took such pride
To scatter bounty far and wide?
Hung round with shields that gleam afar;
The merchant ship on one bestows,
With painted streaks in glowing rows.

"The man-at-arms a golden ring
Boasts as the present of his king;
At the king's table sits the guest,
By the king's bounty richly drest.
King Olaf, Norway's royal son,
Who from the English glory won,
Pours out with ready-giving hand
His wealth on children of the land.

"Brave clothes to servants he awards,
Helms and ring-mail coats grace his guards;
Or axe and sword Har's warriors gain,