"
The good St. Oluf smil'd thereat,
And thus address'd his crew:
"Now hold your tongues, and well observe
What I'm about to do."
The giant stretch'd his mighty arm;
The ship was nigh his own;
But when St. Oluf rais'd the cross,
He sank knee-deep in stone.
"Here am I, sunk knee-deep in stone!
My legs I cannot move;
But, since my back and fists are free,
My might thou yet shalt prove."
"Be still, be still, thou noisy guest--
Be still for evermore;
Become a rock and beetle there,
Above the billows hoar."
Up started then, from out the hill,
The demon's hoary wife;
She curs'd the king a thousand times,
And brandish'd high her knife.
Sore wonder'd then the little elves,
Who sat within the hill,
To see their mother, all at once,
Stand likewise stiff and still:
"'T is done," they cried, "by yonder wight,
Who rides upon the waves;
Let's wade out to him, through the surf,
And beat him with our staves."
At Hornelummer happen'd then,
What happen'd ne'er before;
The elfins wish'd to leave the hill,
And could not find a door:
They ran their heads against the wall,
And tried to break it through;
They could not break the solid rock,
But broke their necks in lieu.
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