A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields/Flytfaglarne (Xavier Marmier)
FLYTFAGLARNE.
Behold the birds; they go away,
They leave the countries of the North
For foreign regions green and gay.
Hark! On the air their songs break forth!
Where dost Thou send us, God, they cry,
Oh whither wouldst thou have us fly?
We leave the Scandinavian soil,
Our birth-place dear, with bitter grief!
We were so happy here; with toil
Upon the limes in flower and leaf
We had our nests built; and the wind
The perfumed boughs swung to and fro;
And now we must leave all behind;
And speed,—ah, where? we little know.
Night in the forests was so fair,
With her rose—crown and locks of gold!
We closed our eyes, but sleep was rare,
Night's beauty was so manifold!
And then with songs we hailed afar
The Morning's prancing steeds and car.
The green tree threw its branches wide
Above the turf and trembling rose,
And dewdrops shed, with pearls that vied,
Pearls that on beauty's neck repose.
Now all is changed. A skeleton
The oak appears; the storms affray;
Light breezes and the rose are gone,
And snows hide all the wealth of May.
How can we stay much longer here?
Each day the sun becomes more pale,
The dim horizon more austere,
And earth more dreary in her mail.
God gave us wings and made us free;
Hail, waves tempestuous of the sea!
Thus sang the wildbirds as they fled.
They gained a fairer country soon,
Where clustering vines the elmtrees wed,
And jasmines smile beneath the moon,
And rivers murmur under boughs
Of myrtles and of olives green,
And forests smooth their sombre brows
To hear sweet songs from throats unseen.
When earthly happiness shall fade
And change into a long regret,
When sorrow shall the prospect shade,
And hope, e'en hope the star shall set,
When autumn winds shall doleful sigh,
Grieve not, poor soul: look up on high.
Beyond the seas another land,
A fairer land than that they knew,
Welcomed of birds the timid band,
That wist not, poor things, where they flew.
Beyond the tomb there is a home
Where morning beams for ever shine,
Where that which troubles cannot come,
And tears are wiped, and none repine.