They came out on a mighty natural clearing above a gorge:
Oak and pine were heaven-high:
The grass glistened in the wind:
There stood the hunter's cabin ...

Her father waited them at the doorway: he greeted the stranger:
The dogs leaped on him, barking ...

His used hands stilled them: he pointed upward ...

There over the gorge, poised in mid-heaven,
A lonely eagle screamed ...

Something of the eagle was in father and daughter:
And the youth longed for such victory.

Then they went in, where the savoury venison steamed,

They went singing in the morning:
" The pure shall conquer heaven!
Glory! glory! glory! "

" Am I pure? " the youth asked himself ...

His young body was fresh from the bath,
Sap climbed in him: sunrise laughed:
His soul danced ...

Then he remembered the girl bathing in the flume,
And her outstretched arms, and opening singing mouth.

His grey robe sat like steel on his naked shoulders,
And chains bound his ankles.

" What have I to do with these solemn ones? " he asked ...

But when he came to the hill of the Vision of the Golden City,
He paused:
Pilgrims in grey were going in slow processional up the slope ...

It was grey twilight, and out of the hidden valley beyond
The bells were beating solemnly,
And peace was on the planet ...
Through the grey air the grey procession wandered ...

Then the leader, a simple religious man,
With beard, and clear untroubled eyes,
Turned to the youth and spoke to him ...

" Son, you are troubled! "

The lad felt suddenly that he could say all:

For joys the hours of earth bestow
With sorrow thou must pay.
Though many follow close, yet know,
They're loaned but for a day.
With sighing in thy laughter's stead
Shall come a time of grief,
The load of usury bow thy head,
With loss of thy belief.
Mary Anne, Mary Anne,
Mary Anne, Mary Anne,
Hadst thou not smiled upon me, thou,
I were not weeping now.

May God help him who never can
Give only half his soul;
The time comes surely for that man
To take the sorrow whole.
May God help him who was so glad,

Round us rolls the heather's sheen,
Heather's sheen,
'Neath the falcon of our queen,
Of our queen.

Birch and cherry balm exhale,
Balm exhale,
Loud our horns the cliffs assail,
Cliffs assail.

Light the air and clear the sky,
Clear the sky, —
Hurrah! onward, she is nigh,
She is nigh.

Hunt ye joy with every breath,
Every breath,
Hunt it to the stream of death,
Stream of death!

Arm me, Lord, my strength redouble,
Heaven open, heed my trouble!
God, if my cause Thine shall be,
Grant a day of victory!
Fell all Thy foes now!
Fell all Thy foes now!
Roll forth Thy thunders, Thy lightning affright them,
Into the pit, the bottomless, smite them,
Their seed uproot,
Tread under foot!
Send then Thy snowy white dove peace-bringing,
Unto Thy faithful Thy token winging,
Olive-branch fair of Thy summer's fruition
After the deluge of sin's punition!

Wherefore have I longings,
When to live them strength is lacking?
And wherefore see I,
If I see but sorrow?

Flight of my eye to the great and distant
Dooms it to gales of darkening doubt;
But fleeing backward to the present,
It's prisoned in pain and pity.

For I see a land with no leader,
I see a leader with no land.
The land how heavy-laden!
The leader how high his longing!

Might the men but know it,
That he is here among them!
But they see a man in fetters,
And leave him to lie there.

KAARE

What wakens the billows, while sleeps the wind?
What looms in the west released?
What kindles the stars, ere day's declined,
Like fires for death's dark feast?

ALL

God aid thee here, our earl,
God aid thee here, our earl,
It is Helga, who comes unto Orkney.

KAARE

What drives the fierce dragon to ride the foam,
While billows with blood are red?

... Oceanward I am ever yearning,
Where far it rolls in its calm and grandeur,
The weight of mountain-like fogbanks bearing,
Forever wandering and returning.
The skies may lower, the land may call it,
It knows no resting and knows no yielding.
In nights of summer, in storms of winter,
Its surges murmur the self-same longing.

Yes, oceanward I am ever yearning,
Where far is lifted its broad, cold forehead!
Thereon the world throws its deepest shadow
And mirrors whispering all its anguish.

Now little Nils Finn had away to go;
The skis were too loose at both heel and toe.
— " That's too bad! " rumbled yonder.

Then little Nils Finn in the snow set his feet:
" You ugliest troll, you shall never me cheat! "
— " Hee-ho-ha! " rumbled yonder.

Nils Finn with his staff beat the snow till it blew:
" Your trollship, now saw you how hapless it flew? "
— " Hit-li-hu! " rumbled yonder.

Nils Finn pushed one ski farther forward with might;