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119 Läsebok. N:o 77 — 78.
The burning jewel in the crown of noon-day
Dazzles and injures the weak eye of man.
Who has the hardihood to gaze upon
The unveiled countenance of the king of day?
Erling (looking fearfully around hirn.)
Oh! say, my father, what are those most horrible,
Those bearded men, in the far shadow there?
Hakon.
Fear not, those are the images of the gods,
Which human hands have fashioned out of stone.
They do not blast with burning rays of light;
Poor human dust before them can bow down
In confidence — can dare to look upon them.
Come, come, my child, Ave will observe them nearer.
Erling.
No father, I’m afraid. Doest thou not see
The old man with the beard? He makes me tremble.
Hakon.
Child, this is Odin. Doest thou fear the god?
Erling.
No, dearest father; I’ve no fear of Odin —
Of the true Odin, up there in the sky.
He will not hurt me, he is good and lovely.
He calls the flowers forth from the fair earth’s bosom;
He shines himself even as a glorious flower.
But yonder pale and grisly-looking wizard
Grins at us, as if he would take a life.
Hakon.
Ha!
Erling.
Father, I will run and fetch the garland
Which I left hanging upon yonder hedge,
Whilst thou wast showing me the mornings’s crimson;
And then let us go home, for I believe
That ancient wizard means no good to thee.
Håle on.
Go fetch the wreath, and come back soon again.
(Erling goes.)
A lamb of sacrifice must wear a garland.
Eternal gods! behold from your high heaven
That Hakon Jarl has confidence in you!
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