Classic Poem

Soft the barges glide with banners flying,
Mälar takes the sunset's hue of pink,
Oars are splashing, merry horns replying,
Woods breathe perfume by the water's brink.
Drop your oars and with the current sway,
Idly let us drift, this night in lovely May!
Horn, be silent now,
Echo, listen thou,
While plays on his lute King Erik.

Ay, upon his lute the king is playing,
Sweetly on his broidered knee it sings,
His white hands in melody are straying
O'er its cedar frame and silver strings.
Hushed beside him little Karin lies
Listening till the tear-drops gather in her eyes.
“Come, my shepherdess,
Why unhappiness?”
Now plays on his lute King Erik.

“Dost thou fear some ambush of my brother,
Tell me, sun of all my heart's desire?
Still upon the throne am I, none other,
Still I rule the kingdom of my sire.
Till yon peak is crowned with purple light
Let's do naught but love in springtime's glowing night!
Many an hour 't will take
Ere the morning break.”
So plays on his lute King Erik.

“Little Karin, 't is the king doth woo thee:
Yield, and Stockholm castle thou shalt share.
Say one word—a crown I'll give unto thee
That shall pale around thy golden hair.
I am Erik, lord of lovely dreams;
Light the crown is, moulded of the moon's bright beams
Weep not, little one,
And my land's thine own!”
So plays on his lute King Erik.