FALK.
Som digter; ja, thi det er hver den mand,
i skolestue, thingsal eller kirke,
hver den, i højheds som i ringheds stand,
der øjner idealet bag sit virke.
Ja, opad går jeg; flugtens hest er sadlet;
jeg véd, min gerning er for livet adlet!
Og nu, farvel!
FALK.
The poet, yes; for poets all men are
Who see, thro’ all their labours, mean or great,
in pulpit or in schoolroom, church or state,
The Ideal’s lone beacon-splendour flame afar.
Yes, upward is my flight; the winged steed
Is saddled; I am strong for noble deed.
And now farewell!
