88 James Christian Liiidberg 



Astonish thee? Hast ne'er before beheld 



A stone that wept when from the winter's cold 



'T was warmed beside the flame ? A death-sweat this, — ■ 



Pale death's own flower! Let it not frighten thee. 



Thora. Ha, blessed Freia! 



Hakon. Mountain snows are melting, 



'T will soon be over ; sturdy winter yields 

 And flows away in tears, it flees apace 

 Before the sensual spring-, for Olaf's flowers. 

 The Jarl has gone ; his pallid ghost alone 

 Returns. Approach the corpse without a fear. 

 Hurl through this shadowy mass a spear and bury 

 It deep within the earth, — and then, he walks 

 No more, but finds repose. 



Thora. Control thyself. 



My Hakon ! Calmly weigh thy words, nor speak 

 So wildly. The greatest soul though strong and proud 

 Must yield at last to nature's higher law. 

 Thy noble heart for years hath never been 

 Unstrung ; but choked by spiteful foes, aye crushed ; 

 Unloosed, it now relents and tears must flow. 

 Come, follow me! Beneath my castle lies 

 A secret cave whose walls are solid rock. 

 None know the cave but I, nor saw it ; there 

 Will I conceal thee till the clouds have passed, 

 Until thy better fortune smiles. 



Hakon. ]\Iy Thora, 



Dost think clear daylight smiles beyond this vault? 

 Ah, tell me true? 



Thora. I have no doubt, my lord! 



Hakon. And down this cellar, vault, this cave, this deep 

 And dark unknown beneath the earth, where even 

 The enemy must pause, where danger halts. 

 Far down this gloomy fortress^ next t6 hell, — 

 There, Thora, thou dost lead me? 



Thora. Aye, my lord! 



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