Herald. (Entering.) Hail, Danish warriors!
Erich. We thank you, brother,

Come you as friends or foes?

Her. Truly, as friends.

Though champions fight, they need not cherish hatred.
Erich. Thou speakest in riddles like a priestess.
Grim. Say,

At once, if honour and a soldier's fame

Are dear to thee?

Her. See'st thou that Dragon there

With golden masts-down in the bay?-
Erich. Aye, surely.-

But wherefore comes your ship to Denmark's harbour?
Her. It bears young Hagbarth-Hako's son of Drontheim.
Erich. But wherefore comes he hither ?-

Her. But to prove

His courage, and a Danish oaken wreath,

If he can win it, to bear home to Norway.

Grim. His name is on our northern seas renown'd.

Her. Now then he seeks renown on northern lands;

Yet wishes not for war, but single combat.

Your Crown Prince Alf, his brother Alger too,
Are both for valour fam'd-therefore would Hagbarth
Now try their strength, and let the god of war
Decide which of the three may best deserve
The victor's wreath. My master sends me now
To your Queen Bera-of her grace to beg,
That in her audience hall he may salute her.-
Of twenty horsemen is his train compos'd,-
All ready like himself their skill to prove,
Against a double number of your Danes,-
Not boasting thus our own superior power,
But recollecting that the challenger

Must run a double risk. Now this is all.-

Point out the way, good friends, to Bera's court,
Or grant us a free convoy.

Erich. Willingly

Now follow us.

(Exeunt.)

HAGBARTH (Enters smiling with a rose in his hand.) HAMUND.

Hagb. That was a rough encounter!

Ham. Hagbarth, thou bleed'st! Stain not thy rich attire.. Hagb. Could I have thought that Beauty thus could wound? That cunningly she look'd from her green arbour,

But to betray me?-How is this flower nam'd?

Ham. A rose.→

Hagb. We have none such at home in Norway.-
Ham. Well, they may come in time.

Hagb. They may forsooth!

Nay in our iron clime, such tender growth
Must perish.→→→→

Ham. Tender as it is, thou see'st

It has the power to wound thee !—
Hagb. By my sword,

I love it all the better.-Tell me whence

The Danes obtain'd such flowers?

Ham. From southern shores

Far distant. Here in Signa's garden stand,

The cherish'd plants. The verdure spreads apace, A

And soon will half the land adorn.

That were a task!-But Hagbarth, wherefore thus

Should we proceed-we have no convoy.*

Hagb. That

Will soon be granted.

Ham. On the brave young princes

I could rely. The queen herself is cruel.—

Alf, her first born, is her chief favourite.

Hagh. If men were ever venturous, that are we !

We challenge two to one!

Ham. Well-and besides,

'Tis not resolved that either party falls!

Hagb. Perchance it may be so-And yet, by Heaven,

When warriors fight, they must use all their strength !-
Poor is that strife, where anger is but feign'd!-

TEA

No-Thor must there be present-The Walkyries hid
Must from their clouds descend;-and Heindal too, minan
On Heaven's resplendent arch, the golden gates

Of bright Walhalla hasten to unfold.

Ham. So young and yet of death so covetous !
Hagb. Nay, Hamund, what is all our life on earth?
Mere preparation for Walhalla's banquet-

Years of probation,-and the sooner past

The better. Blest indeed I deem the hero,

Who dies in youth's full bloom.-In Odin's halls,

Thenceforth he flourishes ;-by the Walkyries

Far more will he be cherish'd and beloved,

Than many a grey-hair'd lingerer on earth, well ya 18sy g)
Who dies at last, because he cannot bear

--

I

The spectral glance of strength-consuming Hela !tbuksille of
Ham. But never till this hour hast thou beheld
This fair and fertile Zealand.-Look around you !
What say you to these hills and thickets green,-
The bay, and richly wooded vale?-Thou livest
But in thy self-creative world of dreams,
And like short-sighted Sigward still are blind
To joys that round thee bloom.

Hagb. And therefore, Hamund,

Mine eyes require old Runic characters,
Gigantic symbols, that heroic souls
Inspire, and that we recognize afar !-

Therefore I love the mountains of our Norway,
That boldly bare their bosoms to the waves,-

• The judicious reader will observe, that by the "platitude" of a dialogue such as this, Oehlanschlaeger systematically enhances the spontaneous bursts of pure poetry, which are always interspersed in his writings; of which in the present scene an instance shortly occurs in one of the speeches of Hagbarth, contrasting Denmark with Norway. + Vide Mallet's Northern Antiquities, or Nyerup's Dictionary, very siḤ

Girdle with lightnings fierce their mighty frames,
And cool their brows in everlasting snow!
And therefore, too, I love the cataract wild,
(Whose accents thunder on the distant ear,)
That to the gulph rolls proud and reckless on,-
In death and in destruction glorified!—

And then the green, green pine trees, that fade never,-
That Odin's thunderbolts alone destroy,-

All these things I do love ;-for these are Nature,
That lifts our heavenward gaze to Aukthor's car,
And Freya's distaff, weaving lives of men.-
But these poor pretty ant-hills-and these hives
Of busy bees, for them I do confess,
Hamund, I am short-sighted-and yet more,-
I wish not to see farther!-

Hamund, now wishing to moderate the wild enthusiasm of his companion, and objecting even to the proposed combat with the Danish princes, tries the irritable temper of Hagbarth so far, that the two friends almost resolve to part for ever;-but after some ex

planation, they are again reconciled, and renew their promises of mutual confidence and fidelity. In the third scene, the Danish Prince Alf, (afterwards killed by Hagbarth,) for the first time appears.

SCENE III.

ALF (alone. He walks with slow steps towards a large oak tree.)

It seems mysteriously, as if my grief

Drew now unto a close ;-that my free spirit
Ere long shall float away to join Chyritha !———
This was the day whereon she died-since then,
Three hundred days and sixty-four have I
Here added to the mournful calendar-
Now let me mark the last!-

་

(Cuts the bark with his dagger.)

(Much moved.)

Oh, might it be
Indeed the last !-From Freya's hall hast thou
Beheld thy lover's faith unchangeable !—
One year in silent grief has worn away-
For memory's visions only have I lived.-
In all its matchless grace and loveliness
Thy cherish'd image dwell'd upon my soul.-
When home I rode in the late winter night,
Then at the gate appear'd thy slender form
Attired, (as thou wert wont,) in silk and sable,
And mid the paley moonlight came to meet me!—
When Signa to her brothers in the hall
The golden mead-horn brought, I thought of thee,
And press'd her white hand with resistless tears.—
In summer, too, thine image floated here,

Through the beech woods amid the favourite trees-
In every gleam that through the shadows broke,
Methought I recognized thee!-Then, oh Heaven,
I saw thee yet again upon the bier,

With rayless eyes, and cheeks all colourless,
And folded hands upon thy breast-Well-thus,
It has been proved to thee that Alf can love,-
That his devotion was no transient glow,
That, like the morning clouds, will fade away-
No-faithfully thy lover has sustain'd
His year of trial-Freya now from Heaven
Looks down compassionate, and summons me→→→

This youthful hero too, who hither comes In search, as he believes, of warlike fame, Is but her messenger, who on my heart Shall the red token press in friendly contest, And free my spirit for its upward flight To Heaven and to Chyritha!Alger, the younger brother of Alf, now enters, boasting of his bright and beautiful armour, and the two princes hold a lively dialogue together, until the entrance of Hagbarth, attended by his friend. Their intentions being made known, the proposal of Hagbarth, that he and his knights shall be opposed by a double number of Danes, is rejected with indignation; it is decided, therefore, that the number on both sides shall be equal. Soon afterwards, Bera the queen, and her daughter Signa, make their appearance, and all the terms of the combat,

66 more

majorum," are agreed upon. It is to take place in a small island, at some distance from the main-land. Hagbarth then receives from Signa the parting draught of mead in the golden cup; who at the same time bids him welcome to that honourable death, dear to the souls of heroes. Bera, a character vindictive, passionate, and Amazonian, makes a speech to the four warriors, and then, with Signa, and her two sons, retires. Hagbarth, being left alone with his friend, for the first time expresses his admiration of the young princess.

Hag. (After a long pause.) Here stood she, blooming like her own

red roses!

f

The drink indeed is sweet from such a hand!
"Welcome to death!"-This was her salutation.
Yet never till this hour I valued life!
Am I enchanted? Now these verdant hills
More than mine own wild mountains must I love!...
And since I met the blue gleam of her eyes,

The rivulet is more dear than mighty floods.

What have I rashly quaff'd? What has she given me ?-
She look'd on me compassionate and kindly,
Yet from her hands, when I received the cup,

A fire unknown before stream'd through my heart.
I feel that all my wonted strength decays,-
That even my love of warlike fame has faded.
Signa alone I love, and Thor is hateful.

What have I done? Her brothers must I meet?

3

Perchance this night, my heart's blood shall be spent, gop A

Or if they fall, do I not also perish?

Then must I fly these lovely scenes. For, never
Will she behold her brother's murderer. 311

Ha, fate, thou hast renounced me!-But one hour
Earlier, if I had seen her, I had come

A happy wooer-not an enemy!-
Now must the bloody festival proceed!

ཚུལ་ ན་

(Tukes the rose from his breast.)
Thou beauteous rose, indeed, resemblest her!,
Thou hast foretold my death.-Thou gavest to me,
As she has done, sweet wounds-Yet to my heart,
Dear are those wounds! Resistless are these tears!
Alf. (Enters armed.) Now Hagbarth, I await thee
Hag. 'Tis resolv'd.-
Yet one word-If I fall-salute for me

(Kisses the rose.) est

Thy sister. And I pray thee, in my grave, be: 63 206

Lay with me this red rose.

Alf. Whoe'er shall fall,

Fate and our swords, or lances must decide,
Yet I too have one prayer to thee.-If death...
Chooses me for his victim-on my tomb
Plant one white lily; 'tis an emblem fit

Of her whom I have loved.-I would not seek

A prouder monument.

Hag. (Grasping his hand.) I shall not fail.
Alf. Heindal will choose the victor.
Hag. Without hatred
We shall contend?

Alf. Like Odin's heroes.

Thus coneludes the first act. At the beginning of the second, Signa attended by Rinda, is discovered watch ing the return of the vessel from the small island on which the tournament has taken place. They perceive, by a signal, that a distinguished character has fallen, but know not who it is, until Hallage, an ancient bard, enters, and sings to his harp a description of the

combat between Alf and Hagbarth,commemorating the death of the former, but praising the valour of Hagbarth; and, finally, rejoicing that Freya's halls have now witnessed the reunion of a happy pair-alluding to the late prince's well known attachment to the departed Chyritha. Bera, having overheard the last words of the song, enters pale, dishevelled, and in great agitation.

Ber. (To Hallagé.) Old dreamer, silence! With thy harp, away! (Wrests the harp out of his hands, and gives it to Erichson.) Hew it in pieces-Cast it in the flames!

Destruction seize thee!

Erich. Injure not, Oh queen,

Your aged poet-for his art is holy!

Bera. He is a madman-or indeed a traitor

Truth he regards not-all is but delusion,
Whereby the feeble heart he leads astray !-
Now has a robber, from the barren rocks

Of Norway, risen against our prince.-One hour
Has the land's cherish'd hope-the hope of years-
And all a mother's earthly bliss destroy'd.
In dust and ashes, now this injured nation
Will mourn their loss.-Despair, even like a tiger
Breaking his iron chains, will rage abroad,
Spreading destruction all around. And, lo!
This old man, who should Denmark's grief deplore,
Sings gladly a chivalrous lay of love!~

Ere long, his harp-strings pleasantly will sound
A song of thanks, even to the murderer.

Tell me, Hallagé, how much gold has Hagbarth
Paid for that song?

Hal. I am an old man, lady,

And on the grave's brink totter. Gold I lack not-
Forgive me if my lays have thee offended!

I sung them with a pure and honest heart.
Ber. Go from my sight!

Hal. How! Banished?
Ber. Ay-for ever!
Thou art a traitor!

Hal. Oh! yet let me die

In mine own native land-that to my songs
Has listen'd now for half an hundred years.-
To these grey forests-and that azure sea,
That gleams so lovelily the vallies through,
I am so used,-I could not live without them.
Ber. It may be so-
-Then die!

Hal. Nothing will move thee?

Then let me wander in my misery

Brägi will have compassion. Yet, I pray thee,

Let me possess my harp again! Could'st thou