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LITERATURE OF THE SCANDINAVIAN NORTH.

others if he had prolonged his stay. But during that short time he succeeded in enlarging the intellectual horizon of the nation, and thus, when he returned to Germany, where he remained as a university professor until his death in 1845, he had really accomplished an important work in Denmark. His work was of great benefit to the whole Danish people through the powerful influence which he exercised on the most gifted young men of the time, such as the brothers Oersted, Mynster, Grundtvig, Schack von Staffeldt, Blicher, and others. But his influence on Oehlenschäger proved to be the most decided and enduring.

When Steffens came to Copenhagen, Oehlenschläger had begun the printing of a Norse tale and had made a contract with a publisher in regard to the publication of a volume of poems. They were doubtless similar in character to those already issued by the author, and which had made the impression on Steffens that they had been written by an old man. Oehlenschläger at once felt himself powerfully drawn toward the enthusiastic philosopher, and Steffens’ robust thoughts, which placed poetry, religion and nature in an altogether new and different light and which did justice to the human spirit in all its relations, found a fertile soil in the heart of the young poet. After a conversation of sixteen hours with Steffens the transformation was complete, and the “old man” was changed into a youth full of romantic poetry. That northern tale and those poems were laid aside, and on the morning following that memorable night he at once took the first step in his new career, and composed a poem on the splendid and very ancient golden horns, which had just then been stolen from the royal cabinet of antiquities. In a most fascinating manner the poet represented the horns as a choice gift of the gods, which they, however, had taken back, because man had failed to appreciate them as the precious relics of a venerable antiquity, but only valued them in proportion to the amount of gold they contained. Oehlenschläger has probably nowhere else struck the romantic key so purely and so deeply as in this