English

S CHPEND someding less as vot you earns;
Pay all der notes vhen dhey comes due;
Don'd you forget von half you learns,
Nor bite off dwice vot you can chew.

On these sandy dikes I shake the world's dust from my clothes,
And leisurely stroll into my tumbleweed house
Through the rock-strewn gorge a near by stream goes trickling,
While distant mountains glint through the sparse trees
So hard to find words for their airy kingfisher blue,
So easy for a fisherman to live.
On these green shores I listen, grasping the creepers,
Spring and my heart have now become as one
The call of yellow birds among the oaks,
The cry of deer browsing on the duckweed
Sadly I recall those men of a hundred sorrows,

His icicle upon the frozen bough
Stern winter hangs, where hung the leaf ere now:
In soft diffusion doth the morning creep
Along the clouded heaven from mound to mound,
So faint and wan, the woods are still asleep,
And pallid shadows scarcely mark the ground.

Then comes the thought, Alas that summer dies;
Alas that youth should melancholy grow
In waning hours, and lose the alchemies
That make its thickest clouds with gold to glow!

But what hast thou to do,
Whose soul is strong, with time? What cause hast thou

King Bele's sons may warriors seek
From hill to vale, from boor to lord;
For them my voice shall never speak,
My hand shall never draw the sword,
Why should I for a monarch die?
My battle field is Balder's grove;
All cares and woes I there defy,
United with the maid I love.

And while the sun's refulgent hue
Loves on each blushing flower to rest,
E'en like the rosy veil I view
On Ingeborga's fairer breast,
Still shall I wander on the shore,
And, as I linger in my pace,
The name of her whom I adore,

Now, pushing back his chair, king Ring doth rise!
And scalds and warriors all
Stand up to hear his speech; they highly prize
Each word his lips let fall:
As Balder he was good, and eke as Mimer wise.

So fair his realm, the gods therein might dwell;
For ne'er the din of arms
Affrights the forest, glade, or grassy dell;
And all her blooming charms
There Industry displays, nor fears the spoiler fell.

See Justice, with her brow so stern yet fair,
Firmly the balance hold!
And grateful Peace brings annual tribute there;

The songs resound in Frithiof's hall,
The minstrels celebrate their lord;
Those songs now unregarded fall,
He smiles not at the banquet board.

The earth resumes her robe of green,
The vessels on the ocean fly;
Those charms by him are all unseen;
The moon alone attracts his eye.

The pensive youth is happy now,
For they, the brothers, Helge dark,
And Halfdan, with his smiling brow,
Invite him to the royal park.

He sits by Ingeborg the while;
Her hand he takes—his own all burning;

There grew, in Hilding's garden fair,
Two plants beneath his fostering care;
Such plants the North had never seen,
How gloriously they deck the green!

One like the oak-tree soars on high,
Whose trunk all proudly greets the sky;
While bending still, by winds caress'd
Its branches wave like warrior's crest.

The other blossoms like the rose,
Ere yet the vernal suns disclose
The charms that in the chalice dawn,
Though winter hath its breath withdrawn.

But storms arise and shake the earth;

O! could my sweet plaint lull to rest,
Soften one sigh—as thou dreamst,
I'd sit the whole night on thy tree,
And sing,——sing,——
With the thorn at my breast.

You sail and you seek for the Fortunate Isles,
The old Greek Isles of the yellow bird's song?
Then steer straight on through the watery miles,
Straight on, straight on, and you can't go wrong.
Nay not to the left, nay not to the right,
But on, straight on, and the Isles are in sight,
The old Greek Isles where yellow birds sing
And life lies girt with a golden ring.

These Fortunate Isles they are not so far,
They lie within reach of the lowliest door;
You can see them gleam by the twilight star;

Although your red lips speak alluring words
And from your lowered eyes the same beguilement issueth,
Although your wisdom runneth far and wide
Gathering fragrance to your eloquence,
Wistful I look on you—
Those charms fall powerless;
Though by the selfsame sorceries conjured
That erst be-spelled,
I am no longer yours.
For sake of one whose lightest breath is flame,
Whose glance is azure ether
And whose voice more cruel than strange
Magics or old pleasure,
Myself I lost beneath the shadowing Eros
High ascending,