Landfall

And that was Olaf Trygvason, Going o'er the North Sea grim, Straight for his home and kingdom steering, Where none awaited him. Now the first mountains tower; Are they walls, on the ocean that lower? And that was Olaf Trygvason, Fast the land seemed locked at first, All of his youthful, kingly longings Doomed on the cliffs to burst,- Until a skald discovered Shining domes in the cloud-mists, that hovered. And that was Olaf Trygvason, Seemed to see before his eyes Mottled and gray some timeless temple Lifting white domes to the skies. Sorely he longed to win it, Stand and hallow his young faith within it.