Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - The "Skjærgaards."
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we drive from island to island and to the
main land; and if the bear or the wolf pays
us a visit we take his skin for a winter
covering: it is warm in the room there, and they
read and tell stories about old times!"
Yes, old Time, how thou dost unfold thyself
with remembrances of these very Skjärgaards –
old Time which belonged to the brave.
These waters, these rocky isles and strands,
saw heroes more greatly active than actively
good: they swung the axe to give the
mortal blow, or as they called it, "the whining
Jetteqvinde."[1]
Here came the Vikings with their ships: on
the headland yonder they levied provisions; the
grazing cattle were slaughtered and borne away.
Ye mouldering cliffs, had ye but a tongue, ye
might tell us about the duels with the
two-handed sword – about the deeds of the giants.
Ye saw the hero hew with the sword, and
cast the javelin: his left hand was as cunning
as his right. The sword moved so quickly
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