misbelievers, outlawed the sacrificers, abolished the (heathen) priesthood, and was the first to introduce the religion of Christianity to his uncouth country.  Rejecting the worship of demons, he was zealous for that of God.  Lastly, he observed with the most scrupulous care whatever concerned the protection of religion.  But he began with more piety than success.  For Ragnar came up, outraged the holy rites he had brought in, outlawed the true faith, restored the false one to its old position, and bestowed on the ceremonies the same honour as before.  As for Harald, he deserted and cast in his lot with sacrilege.  For though he was a notable ensample by his introduction of religion, yet he was the first who was seen to neglect it, and this illustrious promoter of holiness proved a most infamous forsaker of the same.

Meanwhile, Ella betook himself to the Irish, and put to the sword or punished all those who were closely and loyally attached to Ragnar.  Then Ragnar attacked him with his fleet, but, by the just visitation of the Omnipotent, was openly punished for disparaging religion.  For when he had been taken and cast into prison, his guilty limbs were given to serpents to devour, and adders found ghastly substance in the fibres of his entrails.  His liver was eaten away, and a snake, like a deadly executioner, beset his very heart.  Then in a courageous voice he recounted all his deeds in order, and at the end of his recital added the following sentence:  “If the porkers knew the punishment of the boar-pig, surely they would break into the sty and hasten to loose him from his affliction.”  At this saying, Ella conjectured that some of his sons were yet alive, and bade that the executioners should stop and the vipers be removed.  The servants ran up to accomplish his bidding; but Ragnar was dead, and forestalled the order of the king.  Surely we must say that this man had a double lot for his share?  By one, he had a fleet unscathed, an empire well-inclined, and immense power as a rover; while the other inflicted on him the ruin of his fame, the slaughter of his soldiers, and a most bitter end.  The executioner beheld him beset with poisonous beasts, and asps gorging on that heart which he had borne steadfast in the face of every peril.  Thus a most glorious conqueror declined to the piteous lot of a prisoner; a lesson that no man should put too much trust in fortune.

Iwar heard of this disaster as he happened to be looking on at the games.  Nevertheless, he kept an unmoved countenance, and in nowise broke down.  Not only did he dissemble his grief and conceal the news of his father’s death, but he did not even allow a clamour to arise, and forbade the panic-stricken people to leave the scene of the sports.  Thus, loth to interrupt the spectacle by the ceasing of the games, he neither clouded his countenance nor turned his eyes from public merriment to dwell upon his private sorrow; for he would not fall suddenly into the deepest melancholy from the height of festal joy, or seem to behave more like an afflicted son than a blithe captain.