Bibliotheca Polyglotta

Olaf Liljekrans

Complete text

TREDJE SCENE.
Olaf. Alfhild.

SCENE III
[OLAF. ALFHILD.]

OLAF.
Ha, om det var – Ja forvisst, jeg kan ikke tvile derpå. Alfhild sagde jo selv, hendes fader slog strengelegen så lifligt, at det, engang hørt, aldrig kunde glemmes igen. Han nævnte jomfru Ingrid, som blev borte på bryllupskvelden for mange år siden, – der var en ung spillemand, hed Thorgjerd, han havde hende kær, så blev der sagt. Mange underlige sagn gik siden om ham; stundom stod han midt nede i bygden og spillede så fagert, at alle måtte græde derved; men ingen vidste, hvor han havde tilhuse. Alfhild – ja, hun er hans barn! Her er hun vokset op, her i denne øde dal, som ingen har vidst af at sige i mange år; og Ingrid, som forsvandt – han sagde jo – (bemærker Alfhild.) Alfhild! Der er hun! I brudeklæderne er hun flygtet herop. Her skal du altså vågne efter bryllupsnatten; så tung en dag blev min hædersdag for dig! Du vilde ud i livet, sagde du; du vilde lære alverdens herlighed at kende. Så tung en vandring har du været på; men nu skal det alt blive godt. Hun rører sig; det er som hun vånder sig i sorg og angst; – når du vågner, skal det være til fryd og glæde!

OLAF.
Ah, if it were--for certain I cannot doubt it. Alfhild herself said that her father played such music that no one who heard it could ever forget. He mentioned Lady Ingrid who disappeared on the eve of her wedding many years ago,--there was a young minstrel named Thorgjerd who loved her, so went the story. Many a strange tale was afterwards current about him; at times he stood right in the midst of the village and played so beautifully that all who heard it had to weep; but no one knew where he made his home. Alfhild--yes, she is his child! Here she has grown up, here in this desolate valley, which no one has known of by name for many a year; and Ingrid, who disappeared--indeed, he said--
[Becomes aware of ALFHILD.]

OLAF.
Alfhild! There she is! In her wedding garments she has fled up here. Here then shall you awaken after the bridal night; so sorry a day to you was my day of honor. You wished to go out into life, you said; you wanted to learn to know all the love in the world. So sorry a journey you had, but I swear it shall all be well again. She moves; it is as if she were writhing in sorrow and anguish;--when you awaken, it shall be to joy and delight!

ALFHILD
(endnu halvt i drømme).
Det brænder! Frels ham, han er derinde!
Han må ikke dø! Lad ham redning finde!
(springer forfærdet op; musiken standser.)
Hvor er jeg! Mig tykkes – der står han jo!
(iler hen til ham.)
Olaf Liljekrans! frels mig fra mine drømme!

ALFHILD.
[Still half in dreams.]
It burns! Oh, save him,--he is within!
He must not die! Life anew he must win!
[She jumps up in fright; the music ceases.]

ALFHILD.
Where am I! He stands here before me, it seems!
Olaf Liljekrans! save me from my dreams!

OLAF.
Alfhild! vær trøstig, slå dig til ro!

OLAF.
Alfhild! take heart, here you need fear no harm!

ALFHILD
(viger sky og ængstelig tilbage).
Mener du at kogle mig med ord så ømme?
Ondt bær’ du i hjertet, smil bær’ du om mund,
du lokke mig ikke i trolddoms-blund!

ALFHILD.
[Moves away, fearfully and apprehensively.]
You think with sweet words my soul to beguile?
In your heart there is evil, though with lips you may smile,
On me you shall nevermore practice your charm!

OLAF.
Alfhild! kom til dig selv igen;
jeg er jo Olaf, din hjertensven!
tungt er du krænket; jeg har handlet dig imod;
men jeg var dig dog altid i hjertet god!
Svag har jeg været, forblindet, bedåret,–
det er deraf jeg har dig tildøde såret!
Alfhild! kan du forlade mig min færd,
jeg sværger dig til, jeg skal blive dig værd!
Kummerens tårer skal jeg kysse fra din kind,
skal jevne din sti, skal bære dig på hænder,
skal svale sorgen, som svider i dit sind,
skal læge det sår, som i hjertet brænder!

OLAF.
Alfhild! be calm, do not start;
’Tis Olaf I am, the friend of your heart!
Unkind I have been, I have treated you ill;
But deep in my heart I was faithful to you!
I was blind and deluded and weak of will,--
And thus I did wound you far more than I knew!
O, can you forgive me? Alfhild, you must,--
I swear to you I shall be worthy your trust!
I shall bear you aloft and smooth your way,
And kiss from your cheek the tears of dole,
The grief in your heart I shall try to allay,
And heal the wound that burns in your soul!

ALFHILD
(mildt og klagende).
Jeg kender dig vel, jeg skønner din list.
Tro mig, jeg er bleven klog siden sidst.
Du vil dåre mig med ord, du vil bilde mig ind,
det er dig, som ligger mig så tungt i sind.
Du vil bilde mig ind, det var dig, som lærte
mig at smeltes i fryd, at våndes i smerte!
Det lykkes dig lidet, jeg kender dig vel,
enten du kommer ved morgen eller kveld.
Jeg kender dig vel; thi jeg læser på panden
de svigfulde mærker. Så var ej den anden!

ALFHILD.
I know you too well and your cunning disguise.
Since last I did see you I too have grown wise.
You would have me believe with your wily speech
It is you for whom I now suffer and languish.
You would have me believe it was you that did teach
Me to revel in joy and to writhe in anguish.
’Twill profit you little, I know you too well,
Whether early or late you come to my dell.
I know you too well; for deceit on your brow
I can read. Not so was the other, I vow!

OLAF.
Den anden? Hvem mener du?

OLAF.
The other? Whom mean you?

AFLHILD.
Han, som er død!
Det er deraf mig voldes så bitter en nød.
Forstår du mig ikke? Du skal vide, der var to;
det er deraf jeg aldrig fanger hvile og ro!
Den ene bar mig med elskov i hu,
den anden var mig ond og svigagtig som du;
den ene kom til mig ved sildig sommerkveld,
da blomstred mit hjertes rosenblommer;
den anden lokked mig dybt i fjeld,
hvor der aldrig er sol og sommer!
Den onde, svigagtige Olaf er du;
den anden, som bar mig med elskov i hu,
den anden, som aldrig går mig af minde,
ham brændte jeg inde!
(synker ned på en sten ved huset og brister i gråd.)

ALFHILD.
He that is dead!
’Tis therefore I suffer so bitter a dread.
You don’t understand? You must know there were two;
And that is why peace I shall nevermore find!
The one was all love, so good and so true,
The other was evil, faithless, unkind;
The one to me came on a late summer day,
When my heart burst in flower and bloom;
The other led me in the mountain astray,
Where all things are shrouded in gloom!
’Tis the evil one, you, that has come again;
The other who loved me, so good and so kind,
The one who will never be out of my mind,--
Ah, him have I slain!
[She sinks down on a stone near the house and busts into tears.]

OLAF.
Har han røvet din fred, har han ranet din ro,
så lad ham ej længer i hjertet bo!

OLAF.
Has he stolen your peace, has he robbed you of rest,
Then why let him longer dwell there in your breast!

ALFHILD.
Ak, om jeg sænktes i graven ned,
jeg føler det vel, min sorg fulgte med!
Jeg vidste det ikke, – jeg sværger dig til,
jeg tænkte, jeg var ham så lidet mild;
nu ser jeg, jeg må mig tildøde græmme,
og kan ham dog ikke forglemme!
(kort pause.)
Sig mig, ejer du strenge i dit bryst?
Jeg tror det; thi lifligt klinger din røst;
lifligt – skøndt den med svig er blandet.
Har du strenge i dit bryst, da gå trindt om landet
Og syng om Alfhild en klagelig sang
for bygdens piger; hør kun engang:
     Jeg var mig igår så liden en hind,
     jeg gik i de grønnende lunde;
     alle så kom de i skoven ind,
     og jaged mig med falk og med hunde!

     Jeg var mig igår så fattig en fugl,
     jeg sad under lindegrene;
     alle så jog de mig fra mit skjul,
     og kasted på mig med stene.

     Jeg var mig igår den vilde due,
     der aldrig fanger fred og hvile;
     alle så kom de med kogger og bue,
     og skød mig i hjertet med pile!

ALFHILD.
Alas, were I laid in the grave far below,
With me, I am sure, my sorrow would go!
I knew it not then,--to you do I swear,
I thought it was little for him I did care;
Now I see I must die of a grief-broken heart,
Yet his image will never depart!
[A short pause.]

ALFHILD.
Have you chords in your bosom that you can command?
It seems so; your voice sounds so pleasant and sweet;
Pleasant--though blended it is with deceit.
Have you chords in your breast, then go round in the land
And sing of Alfhild a plaintive lay
To the village girls you meet on the way:
     Only yesterday I was so little a roe,
     I roamed in the green groves around;
     They came to the forest with arrow and bow,
     And chased me with falcon and hound!

     Only yesterday I was a bird so forlorn,
     I sat ’neath the linden alone;
     They drove me away from the place I was born,
     And threw at me stone after stone.

     Only yesterday I was an untamed dove,
     Which nowhere finds peace or rest;
     They came from below, they came from above,
     And pierced with an arrow my breast!

OLAF
(smerteligt bevæget).
     Ak, at jeg lå under grønnen tue,
     stedet til evig hvile!
     Hvert dit ord er som stålsat bue,
     der rammer mit hjerte med pile!

OLAF.
[Deeply moved.]
     Alas, that I lay in the grave below.
     Lulled in eternal rest!
     Your every word is a steel-made bow
     That strikes with an arrow my breast!

ALFHILD
(springer op med barnlig glæde).
Sådan skal det være, så er det ret!
Ja, forsandt, vel ejer du strenge i brystet!
Slig skal det synges; da mener de let,
at du selv er af al min smerte krystet.
De mener, din egen ve er så stor,
som den du gøgler i klagende ord!
(standser og ser sørgmodig på ham.)
Dog nej, du skal ikke synge derom;
af Alfhilds kummer vil ingen røres!
Hvorhen jeg gik og hvorfra jeg kom,
skal aldrig derude spørges og høres!
Syng heller om Olaf Liljekrans,
som red sig i alfekvindernes dans!
Syng om Alfhild, den falske kvinde,
som lokked ham hans fæstemø af sinde;
syng om al den sorrig og nød,
da Olaf Liljekrans lå på båren død.
Syng om al den vånde og ve,
da de bar af stuen de døde tre!
Den ene var Olaf, den anden hans mø!
Og dertil hans moder af sorg måtte dø.

ALFHILD.
[Jumps up with childlike joy.]
Just so it shall be,--’tis rightfully so!
Yes, truly, indeed, have you chords in your breast!
So let it be sung; they easily show
That you are yourself by my sorrow oppressed.
They show that your own grief is just as strong
As the one that you voice in your plaintive song!
[She stops and looks sorrowfully at him.]

ALFHILD.
Yet no,--you shall not sing of Alfhild’s lament;
What stranger is there whom my sorrow will move!
From whence I came, and whither I went
There is no one out there who shall question or prove!
Sing rather of Olaf Liljekrans,
Who wandered astray in the elf-maidens’ dance!
Sing of Alfhild, the false and unkind,
Who drove his betrothed quite out of his mind;
And sing of all the sorrow and fear,
When dead Olaf Liljekrans lay on the bier.
Sing of all the weeping below,
When away they carried the three who had died!
The one was Olaf, the other his bride!
The third was his mother who perished of woe.

OLAF.
Ja, Olaf er død, det er ret, som du siger;
men jeg vil være dig så fuldgod en ven,
hvorhelst du dvæler og hvor du går hen;
aldrig fra din side jeg viger!
Må jeg lide så tungt for det, jeg forbrød,
straffen selv skal være mig sød.
Det skal mig lindre, det skal mig husvale,
at færdes hos dig i de øde dale!
Fra sol går op, til sol går ned,
skal jeg tro som hunden følge dit fjed!
Jeg skal klæde min anger i klagende ord,
så lydt og sålænge til du derpå tror.
Hver en livsalig stund herinde
skal jeg mane frem for dit minde!
Hver en blomstrende urt skal derom tale,
derom skal synge både gøg og svale!
Alle de trær, som grønnes i lunde,
skal hviske derom med tusinde munde!

OLAF.
Yes, Olaf is dead; it is just as you say;
But I shall be now so faithful a friend;
Wherever you dwell, wherever you wend,
From your side I shall nevermore stray!
May I suffer in full for the sin I committed,--
Atonement to me shall be sweet.
’Twill comfort me much if I be permitted
To roam with you here in some far-off retreat!
From early dawn till the end of day,
Like a faithful hound I shall follow your lead!
I shall clothe my remorse in so plaintive a lay
Till finally you shall believe me indeed.
Each moment we spent here in ecstasy
I shall call up again to your memory!
Each flower that blooms shall speak it anew,
The cuckoo and swallow shall sing it to you!
The trees that grow here in the forest so green
Shall whisper thereof both soft and serene!

ALFHILD.
Hold op! Jeg véd det, du vil dåre mig påny;
langt bedre om du vilde bort fra mig fly!
Så fager en falskhed er dit ord,
så svigfulde tanker i dit hjerte bor!
Hvad vil du heroppe? Hvi kommer du herhen?
Vil du bilde mig ind, du kan kende dig igen?
Her var jo fordum så fagert et sted,
nu er forbandelsens lyn slået ned!
Fordum, da jeg gik her alene,
var der duftende løv på alle grene!
Alle fugle sang, alle blomster sprang ud,
da du tog mig i favn og kaldte mig din brud!
Men nu – hele dalen er brændt inat;
brændt er både trær og krat;
visnet er strået, brændt er løv,
hver en blomst er vorden til smuldrende støv! –
Ja, jeg ser det vel, – på en eneste nat
er verden bleven gammel! – Da jeg gik forladt
derude, og segned af kval og skam,
da blegnede livets gyldne ham.
Intet lever igen uden svig og bedrag;
det har Olaf lært mig på min bryllupsdag!
Min fader løj; han bød mig tro,
at den døde bæres til englenes bo;
men Olaf kendte et sandere ord;
den døde sænkes i sorten jord!
(udbryder med den dybeste smerte.)
Ja, jeg kan vidne, du vidste besked;
selv er jeg sænket i jorden ned.

ALFHILD.
Enough! You would only beguile me anew;
Far better were it for you now to depart!
So fair is the falsehood I see within you,
So faithless the thoughts that dwell in your heart!
What would you up here? What is it you want?
You think that you know the place that you haunt?
So pleasant a spot was this valley of yore,
A curse lies upon it forevermore!
In the past, when lone in the forest I went,
The leaves on the trees had so fragrant a scent!
The flowers bloomed forth on my every side,
When you pressed me to you and called me your bride!
But now--the whole valley is burned in the night;
The trees are burned to the left and the right;
The straw and the leaves are withered away,
Each flower is turned to a dusty gray!--

ALFHILD.
Yes, clearly I see,--in a single night
Is the world become old!--When I wandered below
All alone, and sank down ’neath my shame and my woe,
Then faded the world and its golden delight.
All things but deceit have vanished away;
So much have I learned on my bridal day!
My father lied; he was wrong when he said
The dead are borne to the dwelling of God;
But Olaf knew better the fate of the dead:
The dead sink below, far under the sod!

ALFHILD.
[She breaks out in deepest agony.]
Ah, well do I see now you knew what you did;
For low in the grave my body is hid.

OLAF.
Alfhild! Dit ord falder knusende tungt!
O, Gud! dit sind var så friskt og ungt – –
forlad mig min brøde, forglem din ve!

OLAF.
Alfhild! Your words deal so crushing a blow!
O, God! was your heart once so young and so bold--
Forgive me my sin and forget all your woe!

ALFHILD
(med et stærkt og stigende udtryk af forvildelse.)
Tys, tal ikke til mig! Se, Olaf, se!
De bærer et lig til graven frem;
men der er ingen moder, ingen søskende fem,
der er ingen bolster, hverken røde eller blå, –
Alfhild ligger på spåner og strå!
Aldrig skal jeg køres i himmelens karm
for at vågne i Gud Faders arm.
Jeg har ingen moder, hvis hjerte vil briste,
jeg har ingen, som sørger ved den sorte kiste;
jeg har i verden vide hverken store eller små,
som græder for mig ved graven.
Der er ingen engle, som drysser perler blå
alt for min fod i himmelhaven,
og aldrig jeg kommer til det dejlige sted,
der den døde drømmer og sover!

ALFHILD.
[With marked and increasing bewilderment.]
Hush, do not speak to me! Olaf, behold!
A corpse they carry, to the grave they creep;
But no mother is there, no children who weep,
No pillows are there of blue or of red,--
Alfhild on shavings and straw lies dead!
I shall never ride now to the heaven above,
And awake in the arms of the God of love.
No mother have I whose heart will break,
No one who follows and weeps for my sake;
No person have I in the world so wide,
Who weeps for me at the bier,--
No angels to scatter on every side
Blue pearls in the heavenly sphere;
And ne’er shall I reach the dwelling of God,
Where the dead dream only of mirth!

OLAF.
Alfhild!

ALFHILD.
Nu sænkes jeg i jorden ned!
nu kaster de muldet derover!
Og her må jeg ligge med al min nød,
må leve og lide, skøndt jeg er død:
må vide, at alt er for mig forbi,
og kan dog ikke glemme, kan ej kæmpe mig fri;
må høre, når han, som min elskov jeg gav,
rider til kirken over min grav!
Må høre ham våndes i vildene flammer,
og kan ikke mildne hans jammer!
O, hvor mit bryst er trangt sluttet inde!
Jeg er gåen Guds engle af minde!
Ingen af dem hører mig klage og bede –
jeg er stængt ude bag livets port –
grav mig op igen! Lad mig ikke ligge hernede!
(iler ud til venstre.)

ALFHILD.
They lower me under the sod!
They cover me over with earth!
And here must I lie with all my dread,
Must live and suffer although I be dead:
Must know there is nothing now left for me,
Yet cannot forget, nor fight myself free;
Must hear when he whom my love I gave
Rides off to the church right over my grave;
Must hear him forever suffer and languish,
And yet can not lessen his anguish!
O, how my bosom is filled with despair!
The angels of God have forgotten my prayer!
They heed no longer my weeping and woe--
The portal is closed to the heavenly bliss--
Dig me up again! Let me not lie here below!
[She rushes out to the left.]

OLAF.
Alfhild! Alfhild! O, Krist, hvad har jeg gjort?
(følger ilsomt efter.)

OLAF.
Alfhild! Alfhild! O, Christ, what is this?
[He follows her quickly.]

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