Though I Knew
Full Well That The Dead Man Was Slumbering Deep In The Earth, And
Not In This Coffin,
I felt a shudder pass over me as the lid was
removed, and I saw - as the priest had assured
Me I should do - merely
a tombstone with the usual inscription, which this coffin-like
covering is intended to protect against the rude storms of the
winter.
Close beside the entrance to the church is the mound beneath which
rest the bones of Snorri Sturluson, the celebrated poet; {39} over
this grave stands a small runic stone of the length of the mound
itself. This stone is said to have once been completely covered
with runic characters; but all trace of these has been swept away by
the storms of five hundred winters, against which the tomb had no
protecting coffin. The stone, too, is split throughout its entire
length into two pieces. The mound above the grave is often renewed,
so that the beholder could often fancy he saw a new-made grave. I
picked all the buttercups I could find growing on the grave, and
preserved them carefully in a book. Perhaps I may be able to give
pleasure to several of my countrywomen by offering them a floweret
from the grave of the greatest of Icelandic poets.
June 19th.
In order to pursue my journey without interruption, I hired fresh
horses, and allowed my own, which were rather fatigued, to accompany
us unloaded. My object in this further excursion was to visit the
very remarkable cavern of Surthellir, distant a good thirty-three
miles from this place.
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