Karker. Ah, good, my lord; methinks you are
Yourself dispirited and sad at heart.
Hakon. I, sad at heart! How dar’st thou say so, slave?
Let us be merry. Since thou wilt not eat,
Sing me some pleasant song.
Karker. What shall it be?
Hakon. Whate’er thou wilt—but rather let thy song
Be of dull sound—like rain, or hail-stones falling
Amidst a wintry storm. A lullaby—
Sing me a lullaby.
Karker. A lullaby?
Hakon. That might put children of ripe years to sleep.
In spite of midnight fears.
Karker. My lord, I know
A noble war-song from the olden days.
Hakon. Has it a frightful end? Seems it to go
At first all smoothly—and then does it turn
To murder and to death?...
..........Begin thy song!
(Karker sings.)King Harald and Erling they sailed one night,
The Moon was shining, the winds were fair,
The Jarls they came to Oglegaard,
But in flames they perished there!
Hakon. Karker! art thou mad?
My father's death-song dost thou sing to me?
Karker. Was Sigurd Jarl, your father, then, my lord?
I knew it not. His was a dreadful fate!
Hakon. Hush!
Karker. Would that one could find a mat, or straw
Whereon to stretch one’s self, to seek repose!
Hakon. If thou art weary, sleep upon the ground;
I’ve done so oft myself.
Karker. Well, so I will, Sir Jarl, since you forbid it not. …
Hakon. Sleep—sleep!
(Karker stretches himself upon the ground, and fulls asleep. Hakon contemplates him.)
Hakon. O leaden nature-dost thou sleep so soon?
The feeble spark which witness bore that thou
Wert human—not a block—now smoulders there
Within yon heap of ashes. But … with me
It flames and storms in its unruly might.
Didst thou my father's death-song chant, to give
A warning from the Norner?[1] Shall my fate
Like Sigurd's be? I am what Sigurd was,
A man of blood—stanch to the ancient gods.
(With uneasiness.)
What if it should be! … Can it be in truth
That Christ has conquered Odin?....
.............Ah! 'tis chill—
'Tis sadly chill and damp in this dark cell!
(He walks up and down for a time, then stops and looks at Karker.)
The slave is dreaming. Horrid! ghastly thoughts
Are painted on his face. See—how he lies.
- ↑ The Scandinavian destinies.
