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50
Läsebok. X:o 60—61.
For lo! when through the vapours dank,
Mora shone on Ettrick fair,
A corpse amid the alders rank,
The palmer welter’d there.
Walter Scott.
61. The Giant and the Dwarf.
Once upon a time a giant and a dwarf were friends, and
kept together. They made a bargain that they never would
forsake each other, but go and seek adventures. The first
battle they fought was with two Saracens; and the dwarf,
who was very courageous, dealt one of the champions a
most angry blow. It did the Saracen but very little injury,
who, lifting up his sword, fairly struck off the poor dwarf’s
arm. He was now in a woful plight; but the giant coming
to his assistance, in a short time left the two Saracens dead
on the plain, and the dwarf cut off the dead man’s head out
of spite. — They then travelled on to another adventure.
This was against three bloody-minded Satyrs, who were
carrying away a damsel in distress. The dwarf was not quite
so fierce now as before; but for all that, struck the first blow,
which was returned by another, that knocked out his eve;
./ 7 c/ 7
but the giant was soon up with them, and, had they not
lied, would certainlv have killed them every one. Thev were
1 J v J
all very joyful for this victory, and the damsel who was
relieved fell in love with the giant, and married him. — They
now travelled far, and farther than I can tell, till they met
with a company of robbers. The giant, for the first time,
was foremost now; but the dwarf was not far behind. The
battle was stout and long. Wherever the giant came, all
fell before him; but the dwarf had like to have been killed
more than once. At last the victory declared for the two
adventurers; but the dwarf lost his leg. The dwarf had now
lost an arm, a leg, and an eye, while the giant was without
a single wound. LTpon which he cried out to his little
companion: »Mv little hero, this is glorious sport; let us get one
victory more, and then we shall have honour for ever».
»Xo», cries the dwarf, who by this time was grown wiser,
»no, I declare off; I will fight no more : for I find in every
battle, that you get all the honour and rewards, but all the
blows fall upon me».
Oliver Goldsmith.
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