My ever watchful, burning, tearful eyes;
And Balder too, the bloodless god looked down
On me with frowning glances full of threats.
Last night I pondered o'er my wretched fate.
My resolution's taken; I remain
Obedient victim at my brother's altar.
Yet it is well I did not hear thee then,
With fabled islands floating in the clouds
Where evening's glowing twilights always show
A flowery world of peace and happy love.
Who knows how weak one is? My childhood dreams
Though silent long, with joy rise up again,
And whisper in my anxious ear with voice
Familiar as a sister's kindly tones,
As tender as a lover's ardent praise.
I hear ye not! ah, no, I hear ye not,
Alluring accents once so fondly loved!
A child of Northland cannot elsewhere dwell;
Too pale am I for those bright summer roses;-
Too colorless my mind for that deep glow;
The scorching sun would quite consume me there.
Of anxious longing full, my eyes would seek
The northern star which always watchful stands
A heavenly sentry o'er our fathers' graves.
My noble Fridthjof shall not now desert
The cherished hind that he was born to guard;
He shall not fling away his honored name
To gain so poor a thing, a maiden's love.
A life where spins the sun from year to year,
And where each day is ever like the next--