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(historik)
had dreamed of the great forest north of the lake,
of the great primeval forest.
Here, in the parish of Bro, as he made his way
from the Upper to the Lower Löfven, in this land
of wealth and joy, where the estates lay side by side,
and the great iron foundries adjoined one another,
every path seemed too steep for him, every room
too narrow, every bed too hard. A bitter longing for
the quiet of the great forest had taken possession
of him.
Here, he heard the thunder of the flails on every
threshing floor, as if the grain were unfailing; here,
loads of timber came in endless succession from the
inexhaustible forests, and the heavy wagons of ore
obliterated the deep ruts cut into the roads by the
preceding carts; here, sledgefuls of guests drove from
one estate to another, and it seemed to him as if
Joy held the reins, and Youth and Beauty stood on
the runners. Oh, how he longed, as he watched them,
longed for the peace of the everlasting forest!
There the trees rise straight and column-like from
the level, snow-covered ground. Wreaths of snow
hang on the motionless branches; the wind is
powerless, and can only sway gently the tops of the
fir trees. He would go there, make his way into the
very depth of the great forest, till his strength failed
him, and he fell down under the great trees to die
of hunger and cold.
He longed for the great murmuring grave which
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