Part 26 (1/2)

Thou lantern in the All-Father's Home, the moon with the pale torch, if you were mine, I would give it as an emerald for my beautiful hand-maiden.

Then Hilding said, ”Foster son, Your love wouldn't be any good to you.

Different lots Norna gives out.

That maiden is daughter to King Bele.

To Odin hisself in the Star-place Mounts her family.

You, de son of Thorstein peasant, Must give way, because like thrives best with like.”

”He have to leave because he vas poor, you see.”

But Frithiof smiled: ”Very easy My arm will win me king's race.

The king of the wood fall, The king of the forest fall in spite of claw and howl; His race I inherit with the Skin.”

The free-born man wouldn't move, Because the world belongs to the free.

Easy, courage can reconcile fortune, And de Hope carries a king's crown.

Most n.o.ble is all Strongth. Because Thor--

”He was fader of all dem oder G.o.ds, you see.”

The ancestor lives in Thrudvang, He weighs not de burden, but de wort;

”Look now, all dese be strange words.”

A mighty wooer is also the Sword.

I will fight for my young bride.

If it so were, vid de G.o.d of de Tunder; Grow safe, grow happy, my white lily, Our covenant are fast as the Norna's will.

This is her translation of the last stanzas of the account of Ingeborg's marriage to Frithiof:--

In come Ingeborg in hermine sack, and bright jewels, followed of a crowd of maids like de stars wid de moon. Wid de tears in de beautiful eyes she fall to her brother's heart; but he lead the dear sister up to Frithiof's n.o.ble breast; and over the G.o.d's altar she reach-ched her hand to de childhood's friend, to her heart's beloved.

A few days before I left Christiania, Katrina had come shyly up to my table, one evening, and tossed down on it a paper, saying,--

”Dere is anoder. Dis one is for you.”

On looking at it, I found it contained four stanzas of Norwegian verse, in which my name occurred often. No persuasions I could bring to bear on her would induce her to translate it. She only laughed, said she could not, and that some of my Norwegian friends must read it to me. She read it aloud in the Norwegian, and to my ignorant ear the lines had a rhythmical and musical sound. She herself was pleased with it. ”It is nice song, dat song,” she said; but turn it into English for me she would not. Each day, however, she asked if I had had it translated, and finding on the last day that I had not, she darted into her room, shut the door, and in the course of two hours came out, saying, ”I got it part done; but dey tell you better, as I tell you.”

The truth was, the tribute was so flattering, she preferred it should come to me second hand. She shrank from saying directly, in open speech, all that it had pleased her affectionate heart to say in the verses. Three of the stanzas I give exactly as she wrote them. The rest is a secret between Katrina and me.

THANKS.

The duty command me to honor You, who with me Were that kind I set her beside My parents. Like a sunbeamed picture For my look, you painted stands.

My wishes here translated With you to Colorado go.

Happy days! oh, happy memories Be with me on the life's way.

Let me still after a while find or meet You energisk. I wouldn't forget.

G.o.d, be thou a true guide For her over the big ocean; Keep away from her all torments That she happy may reach her home.