INGEBORG’S LAMENTATION.
Reading edition
From the Swedish of Tegner. (An extract from Frithiof’s Saga.)
Autumn winds howl; Ocean is swelling so stormy.—My soul, Would with the sighs which I utter Forth thou wouldst flutter!
Long did I view Far in the West the sail which flew— Happy my Frithiof to follow O’er the wave hollow!
Blue billow run O not so high, for it still sails on! Stars, for my mariner sparkle, As the nights darkle!
Spring will appear. He will come home, but unmet by his dear Or in the hall, or the dingle, Or on the shingle.
She’ll lie in mould, All for her love’s sake, pallid and cold, Or she will bleed, by no other Slain than her brother.
Hawk, left behind! Thou shalt be mine and I’ll prove ever kind: Ever, wing’d hunter, I’ll scatter Food on thy platter.
Here on his hand Work’d on my kerchiefs hem thou shalt stand, Pinions of silver and glowing Gold-talons showing.
Hawk-pinions tried Freia {63} one time, and around about hied; Sought North and South to discover Oder her lover.
E’en shouldst thou lend Me thy brave wings, yet I could not ascend; Only Death brings me, poor minion, The divine pinion.
Hunter so free! Sit on my shoulder and look to the sea; Spite of our looking and yearning, He’s not returning.
When I’m at rest, And he comes safe, do thou mind my behest: O with best greetings receive him, Frithiof, who’ll grieve him.