FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND .
The valiant Danes drive back the Swedish host
In wild confusion to the northern coast;
The sounding chariots clash,—the bright swords gleam,
The broad, round shields flash back the moon's cold beam;
On the red corse-field, mid the fierce affray,
Lies the young Sven and Ulf the warrior gray.
SVEN .
Alas! my father, in the power and bloom
Of life, grim Norna calls me to the tomb:
In vain my mother, from the oaken bough,
Weaves a bright garland for her warrior's brow;—
From her high tower my Edith looks in vain
To see my chariot in the victor's train.
ULF .
In the gray night for thee her tears shall fall,
Till visioned sleep thine image shall recall;
Yet mourn not thus: the path which thou hast led,
Though dark the way, she will not fear to tread;
Soon shall she, smiling through her golden hair,
For thee at Odin's feast the bowl prepare.
SVEN .
No more the solemn chant my voice shall raise
Amid our warrior youth on festal days;
The deeds of kings and heroes sing no more;
Their conquering arms, their fates in love and war;
Through my neglected harp the wind shall sigh,
And wake low dirges as it wanders by.
ULF .
High towers above us, like an eagle's nest,
The bright Valhalla of our fathers' rest;
The stars roll under it, and, far below,
Red meteors gleam and fiery comets glow;—
There, at the solemn feast, we meet again;
Lift up thy song to a triumphal strain!
SVEN .
Ah, heavy doom! thus from the bright world torn,—
From life and love in youth's unhonored morn;
While yet no proud deed of the battle-field—
No trophied arms, are sculptured on my shield:
Twelve fearful judges sit enthroned on high;
How shall I shrink before each awful eye!
ULF .
One lofty deed their favor shall secure,—
One deed whose rays no shadow can obscure;
Pours not thy young heart, on this barren strand,
Its life-blood freely for our fatherland?
And see! our foemen yield:—the clouds are riven!
There lies our pathway to the halls of Heaven!
The valiant Danes drive back the Swedish host
In wild confusion to the northern coast;
The sounding chariots clash,—the bright swords gleam,
The broad, round shields flash back the moon's cold beam;
On the red corse-field, mid the fierce affray,
Lies the young Sven and Ulf the warrior gray.
SVEN .
Alas! my father, in the power and bloom
Of life, grim Norna calls me to the tomb:
In vain my mother, from the oaken bough,
Weaves a bright garland for her warrior's brow;—
From her high tower my Edith looks in vain
To see my chariot in the victor's train.
ULF .
In the gray night for thee her tears shall fall,
Till visioned sleep thine image shall recall;
Yet mourn not thus: the path which thou hast led,
Though dark the way, she will not fear to tread;
Soon shall she, smiling through her golden hair,
For thee at Odin's feast the bowl prepare.
SVEN .
No more the solemn chant my voice shall raise
Amid our warrior youth on festal days;
The deeds of kings and heroes sing no more;
Their conquering arms, their fates in love and war;
Through my neglected harp the wind shall sigh,
And wake low dirges as it wanders by.
ULF .
High towers above us, like an eagle's nest,
The bright Valhalla of our fathers' rest;
The stars roll under it, and, far below,
Red meteors gleam and fiery comets glow;—
There, at the solemn feast, we meet again;
Lift up thy song to a triumphal strain!
SVEN .
Ah, heavy doom! thus from the bright world torn,—
From life and love in youth's unhonored morn;
While yet no proud deed of the battle-field—
No trophied arms, are sculptured on my shield:
Twelve fearful judges sit enthroned on high;
How shall I shrink before each awful eye!
ULF .
One lofty deed their favor shall secure,—
One deed whose rays no shadow can obscure;
Pours not thy young heart, on this barren strand,
Its life-blood freely for our fatherland?
And see! our foemen yield:—the clouds are riven!
There lies our pathway to the halls of Heaven!