The Feast at Solhoug eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 50 pages of information about The Feast at Solhoug.

Beware!  If the nixie’s ire you awaken,
Soon in her nets you will find yourself taken.

GUDMUND. [To himself.]

I am snared already, it seems to me.

SIGNE.

But, Gudmund, wait—­you have still to see
How I’ve shielded your harp from the dust and the rust.
      [As she goes out to the left.

You shall teach me all of your songs!  You must!

GUDMUND. [Softly, as he follows her with his eyes.]

She has flushed to the loveliest rose of May,
That was yet but a bud in the morning’s ray.

SIGNE. [Returning with the harp.]

Behold!

GUDMUND. [Taking it.]

         My harp!  As bright as of yore!
     [Striking one or two chords.

Still the old chords ring sweet and clear—­
On the wall, untouched, thou shalt hang no more.

MARGIT. [Looking out at the back.]

Our guests are coming.

SIGNE. [While GUDMUND preludes his song.]

Hush—­hush!  Oh, hear!

GUDMUND. [Sings.]

I roamed through the uplands so heavy of cheer;
The little birds quavered in bush and in brere;
The little birds quavered, around and above: 
Wouldst know of the sowing and growing of love?

It grows like the oak tree through slow-rolling years;
’Tis nourished by dreams, and by songs, and by tears;
But swiftly ’tis sown; ere a moment speeds by,
Deep, deep in the heart love is rooted for aye.

     [As he strikes the concluding chords, he goes towards the
       back where he lays down his harp.

SIGNE. [Thoughtfully, repeats to herself.]

But swiftly ’tis sown; ere a moment speeds by,
Deep, deep in the heart love is rooted for aye.

MARGIT.

  [Absently.] Did you speak to me?—­I heard not clearly—?

SIGNE.

  I?  No, no.  I only meant—­

     [She again becomes absorbed in dreams.

MARGIT. [Half aloud; looking straight before her.]

It grows like the oak tree through slow-rolling years;
’Tis nourished by dreams, and by songs and by tears.

SIGNE.

  [Returning to herself.] You said that—?

MARGIT.

[Drawing her hand over her brow.] Nay, ’twas nothing.  Come, we must go meet our guests.

     [BENGT enters with many GUESTS, both men and women,
       through the passageway.

GUESTS.

    With song and harping enter we
        The feast-hall opened wide;
    Peace to our hostess kind and free,
        All happiness to her betide. 
    O’er Solhoug’s roof for ever may
        Bright as to-day
        The heavens abide.

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Project Gutenberg
The Feast at Solhoug from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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