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198 POEMS AND SONGS
HOLGER DRACHMANN
Sprino’s herald, hail! You’ve rent the forest’s quiet?
Your hair is wet, and you are leaf-strewn, dusty ...
With your powers lusty
Have you raised a riot?
What noise about you of the flood set free,
That follows at your heels, —turn back and see:
It spurts upon you! — Was it that you fought for?
You were in there where stumps and trunks are rotting,
Where long the winter-graybeards have been plotting
To prison safe that which a lock they wrought for.
But power gave you Pan, the ancient god!
They cried aloud and cursed your future lot?
Your gallant feat they held a robber’s fraud?
—FEach spring it happens; but is soon forgot.
ee eee
POS ven
You cast you down beside the salt sea’s wave.
It too is free; dances with joy to find you.
You know the music well; for Pan resigned you
His art one evening by a viking’s grave.
eS See a
But while on nature’s loving lap you lie,
The tramp of battle on the land you hear,
You see the steamers as they northward steer
With freedom’s flag;—of your name comes a cry,
And so is torn between the two your breast: —
Freedom’s bold fighters, who now proudly rally,
Sys et 2 es 7 ere
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