Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, volume 05 — Selected poems

(From 'Arne') Often I wonder what there may be Over the lofty mountains.

Here the snow is all I see, Spread at the foot of the dark green tree;

Sadly I often ponder, Would I were over yonder.

Strong of wing soars the eagle high Over the lofty mountains;

Glad of the new day, soars to the sky, Wild in pursuit of his prey doth fly;

Pauses, and, fearless of danger, Scans the far coasts of the stranger.

The apple-tree, whose thoughts ne'er fly Over the lofty mountains, Leaves when the summer days draw nigh, Patiently waits for the time when high The birds in its bough shall be swinging, Yet will know not what they are singing.

He who has yearned so long to go Over the lofty mountains-- He whose visions and fond hopes grow Dim, with the years that so restless flow-- Knows what the birds are singing, Glad in the tree-tops swinging.

Why, O bird, dost thou hither fare Over the lofty mountains?

Surely it must be better there, Broader the view and freer the air;

Com'st thou these longings to bring me-- These only, and nothing to wing me?

Oh, shall I never, never go Over the lofty mountains?

Must all my thoughts and wishes so Held in these walls of ice and snow Here be imprisoned forever?

Till death shall escape be never?

Hence!

I will hence!

Oh, so far from here, Over the lofty mountains!

Here 'tis so dull, so unspeakably drear;

Young is my heart and free from fear-- Better the walls to be scaling Than here in my prison lie wailing.

One day, I know, shall my free soul roam Over the lofty mountains.

O my God, fair is thy home, Ajar is the door for all who come;

Guard it for me yet longer, Till my soul through striving grows stronger.

THE CLOISTER IN THE SOUTH

From 'Arnljot Gelline' "Who would enter so late the cloister in?"

"A maid forlorn from the land of snow."

"What sorrow is thine, and what thy sin?"

"The deepest sorrow the heart can know.

I have nothing done, Yet must still endeavor, Though my strength is none, To wander ever.

Let me in, to seek for my pain surcease;-- I can find no peace."

"From what far-off land hast thou taken flight?"

"From the land of the North, a weary way."

"What stayed thy feet at our gate this night?"

"The chant of the nuns, for I heard them pray, And the song gave peace To my soul, and blessed me;

It offered release From the grief that oppressed me.

Let me in, so if peace to give be thine, I may make it mine."

"Name me the grief that thy life hath crossed."

"Rest may I never, never know."

"Thy father, thy lover, thou hast then lost?"

"I lost them both at a single blow, And all I held dear In my deepest affection, Ay, all that was near To my heart's recollection.

Let me in, I am failing, I beg, I implore, I can bear no more."

"How was it that thou thy father lost?"

"He was slain, and I saw the deed."

"How was it that thou thy lover lost?"

"My father he slew, and I saw the deed.

I wept so bitterly When he roughly would woo me, He at last set me free, And forbore to pursue me.

Let me in, for the horror my soul doth fill That I love him still."

CHORUS OF NUNS WITHIN THE CHURCH

Come child, come bride, To God's own side.

From grief find rest On Jesus' breast.

Rest thy burden of sorrow On Horeb's height;

Like the lark, with to-morrow Shall thy soul take flight.

Here stilled is all yearning, No passion returning, No terror come near thee Where the Saviour can hear thee!

For He, if in need be Thy storm-beaten soul, Though it bruised as a reed be, Shall raise it up whole.

THE PLEA OF KING MAGNUS

From 'Sigurd Slembe' "But once more let me the heavens see, When the stars their watch are keeping," Young Magnus begged, and fell on his knee;

It was sad to see, And the women away turned weeping.

"Let me once more the mountains see, And the blue of the ocean far-reaching, Only once more, and then let it be!"

And he fell on his knee, While his friends were for pity beseeching.

"Let me go to the church, that the sacred sight Of the blood of God may avail me;

That my eyes may bathe in its holy light, Ere the day take flight, And my vision forever shall fail me!"

But the sharp steel sped, and the shadows fell, As the darkness the day o'erpowers.

"Magnus our king, farewell, farewell!"

"So farewell, farewell, All my friends of so many glad hours."

Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin and Company, Boston.

SIN AND DEATH

From 'Sigurd Slembe' Sin and Death, at break of day, Day, day, Spoke together with bated breath;

Marry thee, sister, that I may stay, Stay, stay, In thy house, quoth Death.

Death laughed aloud when Sin was wed, Wed, wed, And danced on the bridal day;

But bore that night from the bridal bed, Bed, bed, The groom in a shroud away.

Death came to her sister at break of day, Day, day, And Sin drew a weary breath;

He whom thou lovest is mine for aye, Aye, aye, Mine he is, quoth Death.

Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin and Company, Boston.

/& THE PRINCESS

The Princess sat lone in her maiden bower, The lad blew his horn at the foot of the tower.

"Why playest thou alway?

Be silent, I pray, It fetters my thoughts that would flee far away, As the sun goes down."

In her maiden bower sat the Princess forlorn, The lad had ceased to play on his horn.

"Oh, why art thou silent?

I beg thee to play!

It gives wings to my thoughts that would flee far away, As the sun goes down."

In her maiden bower sat the Princess forlorn, Once more with delight played the lad on his horn.

She wept as the shadows grew long, and she sighed: "Oh, tell me, my God, what my heart doth betide, Now the sun has gone down."