Irritated by the ravages of Farquard Kiarnach Machonas, Earl of Ross, on the Western Isles, then subject to the Norwegian crown, King Haco [Hakon] of Norway fitted out a magnificent fleet containing over 100 galleys, with which he sailed west to make reprisals on the Scots. He called at Shetland, and passed thence to Orkney, where most of the summer was occupied in completing his preparations. There he obtained the support of Earl Magnus of Orkney, and finally steered through the Pentland Firth, plundering Caithness, subjugating the islands, and carrying all before him, till he anchored near the mouth of the Clyne, and landed on the Scottish coast near Largs. The young King, Alexander III, hesitated to meet in battle such a formidable host; but as the autumnal equinox was at hand, the Scottish generals wisely delayed, expecting help from the elements. Nor were they disappointed, for a violent storm arising, dashed many of the ships against each other, and greatly injured the fleet. A battle ensued, in which 16,000 of the Norsemen fell, though, after all, the victory was doubtful. Haco, however, retired, having first burned the damaged ships, and buried the slain on the field of battle. He came to Kirkwall with the shattered remains of his grand fleet, and the stormy weather having now set in, they were compelled to remain in Kirkwall for the winter. Haco occupied the upper flat of the Bishop's Palace, while his men were quartered throughout the island. In a short time, however, the brave old monarch sickened, and soon he died, it is believed of a broken heart, for the loss of his ships and his brave followers. The body lay in state in the upper chamber of the palace, after which it was coffined and placed before the shrine of St. Magnus, where his warriors watched it by turns during the winter. In spring the body was conveyed to Bergen, and buried in the royal sepulchre of Norway.
There is a full account of these occurrences in the "Edinburgh Magazine" for 1787 (translated from an Icelandic Chronicle), which is so fine and graphic that one would be tempted to reproduce it but for the fact of almost literal illustration in the lines that follow.
THE DEATH OF HACO
(JOHN STUART BLACKIE)
The summer is gone, Haco, Haco,
The yellow year is fled,
And the winter is come, Haco,
That numbers thee with the dead!
When the year was young, Haco, Haco,
And the skies were blue and bright,
Thou didst sweep the seas then, Haco,
Like a bird with wings of might.
With thine oaken galley proudly,
And thy gilded dragon-prow,
O'er the bounding billows, Haco,
Like a sea-god thou didst go.
With thy barons gaily, gaily,
All in proof of burnished mail,
In the voes of Orkney, Haco,
Thall didst spread thy prideful sail;
And the sturdy men of Caithness,
And the land of the Mackay,
And the men of stony Parf, Haco,
Knew that Norway's king was nigh.
And the men of outmost Lewis, Haco,
And Skye with winding kyles,
And Macdougall's country, Haco,
Knew the monarch of the Isles.
And the granite peaks of Arran,
And the rocks that fence the Clyde,
Saw thy daring Norsemen, Haco,
Ramping o'er the Scottish tide.
But scaith befell thee, Haco, Haco !
Thou wert faithful, thou wert brave;
Yet truth might not shield thee, Haco,
From a laise and shuffling knave.
The crafty King of Scots, Haco,
Who might not bar thy way,
Beguiled thee, honest Haco,
With lies that bred delay.
And hasty winter, Haco, Haco,
Came and tripped the summer’s heels,
And rent the sails of Haco,
And swamped his conquering keels.
Woe is me for Haco, Haco !
On Lorn, and Mull, and Skye
The hundred ships of Haco
In a thousand fragments lie!
And thine oaken galley, Haco,
That sailed with kingly pride,
Came shorn and shattered, Haco,
Through the foaming Pechtland tide.
And thy heart sank, Haco, Haco,
And thou felt that thou must die,
When the bay of Kirkwall, Haco,
Thou held with drooping eye.
And they led thee, Haco, Haco,
To the bishop's lordly hall,
Where thy woe-struck barons, Haco,
Stood to see the mighty fall;
And the purple churchmen, Haco,
Stood to hold thy royal head,
And good words of hope to Haco
From the Holy Book they read.
Then outspoke the dying Haco,
"Dear are God's dear words to me,
But read the book to Haco,
Of the kings that ruled the sea.
"Then they read to dying Haco
From the ancient Saga hoar,
Of Haldan and of Harald,
When his fathers worshipped Thor.
And they shrove the dying Haco,
And they prayed his bed beside;
And with holy unction Haco
Drooped his kingly head and died.
And in parade of death, Haco,
They stretched thee on thy bed,
With a purple vest for Haco,
And a garland for his head.
And around thee, Haco, Haco,
Were tapers burning bright,
And masses were sung for Haco,
By day and eke by night.
And they bore thee, Haco, Haco,
To holy Magnus' shrine,
And beside his sainted bones, Haco,
They chastely coffined thine.
And above thee, Haco, Haco,
To deck thy dreamless bell,
All crisp with gold for Haco,
A purple pall they spread.
All around thee, Haco, Haco,
Where the iron sleep thou slept,
Thro' the long dark winter, Haco,
A solemn watch they kept;
And at early burst of spring-time,
When the birds sang out with glee,
They took the body of Haco
In a ship across the sea -
Across the sea to Norway,
Where thy sires make moan for thee.
That the last of his race was Haco,
Who ruled the Western sea.
And they laid thee, Haco, Haco,
With thy sires on the Norway shore,
And far from the isles of the sea, Haco,
That know thy name no more.