BLANKA.
Men ifald
min fejge tro, som nu du kalder den,
blev plantet om i eders friske jordbund, –
da véd jeg vist, der spired frem af den
en blomsterfylde, rig nok til at dække
den nøgne fjeldvæg.
BLANKA.
But now suppose
My craven faith, as you see fit to call it,
Could be transplanted to your virgin soil,--
I know full well, there would spring forth a mass
Of flowers so luxuriant as to hide
The naked mountain.