shoot supremely,
throw a javelin with either hand; and, in fact, in battle usually
threw two together. These, with swimming, climbing, leaping, were the
then admirable Fine Arts of the North; in all which Tryggveson appears
to have been the Raphael and the Michael Angelo at once. Essentially
definable, too, if we look well into him, as a wild bit of real
heroism, in such rude guise and environment; a high, true, and great
human soul. A jovial burst of laughter in him, too; a bright, airy,
wise way of speech; dressed beautifully and with care; a man admired
and loved exceedingly by those he liked; dreaded as death by those he
did not like. "Hardly any king," says Snorro, "was ever so well
obeyed, by one class out of zeal and love, by the rest out of dread."
His glorious course, however, was not to last long.

King Svein of the Double-beard had not yet completed his conquest of
England,--by no means yet, some thirteen horrid years of that still
before him!--when, over in Denmark, he found that complaints against
him and intricacies had arisen, on the part principally of one
Burislav, King of the Wends (far up the Baltic), and in a less degree
with the King of Sweden and other minor individuals. Svein earnestly
applied himself to settle these, and have his hands free. Burislav, an
aged heathen gentleman, proved reasonable and conciliatory; so, too,
the King of Sweden, and Dowager Queen Sigrid, his managing mother.
Bargain in both these cases got sealed and crowned by marriage. Svein,
who had become a widower lately, now wedded Sigrid; and might think,
possibly enough, he had got a proud bargain, though a heathen one.
Burislav also insisted on marriage with Princess Thyri, the
Double-beard's sister. Thyri, inexpressibly disinclined to wed an aged
heathen of that stamp, pleaded hard with her brother; but the
Double-bearded was inexorable; Thyri's wailings and entreaties went
for nothing. With some guardian foster-brother, and a serving-maid or
two, she had to go on this hated journey. Old Burislav, at sight of
her, blazed out into marriage feast of supreme magnificence, and was
charmed to see her, but Thyri would not join the marriage party,
refused to eat with it or sit with it at all. Day after day, for six
days, flatly refused; and after nightfall of the sixth, glided out
with her foster-brother into the woods, into by-paths and
inconceivable wanderings; and, in effect, got home to Denmark. Brother
Svein was not for the