

72 James Christian Lindberg 



One sig-hs for tints with which to imitate 



The radiance of the flowers. And love, dear love 



Which flits through all, on all has left its stamp. 



But now where Nature, more severe, bring^s forth 



More stones than flowers ; where heavy sheets of snow 



Envelop half the year; where muscles grow 



And harden more and more ; where Nature says 



"To lack, becomes a virtue, or to guard 



With jealous eye our frugal share," — ah, there 



No pictured scene, no song enwraps us there. 



But during- endless winter nights the soul 



Awakes with lofty manhood thoughts ; there opens 



The inner flower, then fondly shuts again 



About a maiden's heart, both stainless, pure. 



Not from those misty ever-changing tints, 



But from these clifl^s, imperishable rocks. 



The g-ods arise and calmly, proudly view 



Their handiwork. Thus inborn strength is driven 



By inborn wants, to manly exercise. 



Thus strength opposes strength : and bravery 



And manhood are impressed upon the North, 



A<; ^^'^'-"Tinine tenderness upon the South. 



Olaf. How strange ! 



Andeii. When now a youthful lad, at first 



By chance was driven toward the South, returns 

 And brings a basket filled with tenderest flowers 

 Of Italy, and longs to plant them here 

 On Norway's cliffs ; when now the birch, the fir, 

 Are in his way and he uproots these grand, 

 These ancient forests, sparing not a tree 

 Of all those olden giants, since his weeds, 

 His roses needs must have a place to grow, — 

 Pray then if thou didst see him, at his work, 

 What wouldst thou call him, sir ? 



Olaf. Away, away ! 



Audcii. Perchance a hero ? Aye, a warrior, one 

 Who fights for noble ends. And he who said. 



no 



