Transcribed , email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
An Edition of 250 Copies only will be printed.
No more will be published.
Author of “Bible in Spain,” “Lavengro,” “WildWales,” etc.
LONDON
JARROLD & SONS, 3 PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS, E.C.
1889
The works of the late poet Ewald are deservedly popular in Denmark. The present tragedy, and the opera of “The Fishermen” (“Fiskerne”),in which occurs the bold lyric which has become the national song ofthe Danes, are esteemed his best productions.
For the fidelity with which the present version has been made I appealto those of my countrymen who understand the original, and demand whetherI have given a thought or expression equivalents to which are not tobe found in the Danish tragedy.
I have imitated the peculiar species of blank verse in which theoriginal is composed, in order that the English reader may form an exactidea thereof, and though by having done so my poetry may have somewhatof a cramped, embarrassed gait, I have a firm hope that I shall notmeet very severe reprehension for having sacrificed elegance to fidelity.
GEORGE BORROW.
Balder. Hother.
Thor. Nanna.
Loke. The Three Valkyrier.
The place of action is a pine-wood on the Norwegian mountains. Round about it are seen steep and uneven rocks. The top of thehindermost and highest is covered with snow.
BALDER and THOR are seated upon stones at some distance from eachother. Both are armed—THOR with his hammer, and BALDER withspear and sword.
BALDER. Land whose proud and rocky bosom
Braves the sky continually!
THOR. Where should strength and valour blossom,
Land of rocks, if not in thee?
BALDER. Odin’s shafts of ruddy levin
Back from thy hard sides are driven;
Never sun thy snow dispels.
THOR. Sure, he’ll joy in deeds of daring,
Ne’er for ease voluptuous caring,
Who upon the mountain dwells.
BOTH. Land whose proud and rocky bosom
Braves the sky continually!
Where should strength and valour blossom,
Land of rocks, if not in thee?
BALDER (he springs up, but THOR remains sitting, like onein deep thought). Ha! I will quickly fly from thee forever,
Thou hated land, where everything so proudly
Upbraids me for my weakness—for my fetters:
Where I, pursu’d by pains of hopeless passion,
The live-long nights among deaf rocks do wander—
Whose echoes sport with Balder’s lamentations,
Each cold, each feelingless, as Nanna’s bosom,
The fair, unpitying savage!
THOR. Son of Odin!
BALDER. Speak, mighty Thor!
THOR. Thou sighest, then—and vainly?
BALDER. Vainly: without a glimpse of hope; bewildered.
What, what have I not promised, vow’d, attempted?
How oft have I, O Thor!—I blush, but hear it—
To tears debas’d myself: my tears have trickled—
Have vainly trickled—before Gevar’s daughter.
THOR. Ha! Gevar’s daughter?
BALDER. Yes, the haughty Nanna.
THOR. Dost mean the daughter of the wise King Gevar,
Who reads the actions of the unborn hero,
The will of Fate, malicious foemen’s projects,
And war and death of warriors in the planets:
Dost mean his daughter?
BALDER. Think’st thou other fathers possess a Nanna?
THOR. Gods!
[He again casts his eyes upon the ground, like one who meditatesdeeply.
BALDER. Behind yon pine wood he built an altar unto thee andOdin,
There thou mayst see the roof of his still dwelling.
There lives the earthly Freia—cruel maiden—
There s