Signë.
[While Gudmund preludes his song.]
Hush—hush! Oh, hear!
Gudmund.
[Sings.]
I roamed through the uplands so heavy of cheer;
The little birds quavered in bush and in brere;
The little birds quavered, around and above:
Wouldst know of the sowing and growing of love?
It grows like the oak tree through slow-rolling years;
'Tis nourished by dreams, and by songs, and by tears;
But swiftly 'tis sown; ere a moment speeds by,
Deep, deep in the heart love is rooted for aye.
[As he strikes the concluding chords, he goes towards the back, where he lays down his harp.
Signë.
[Thoughtfully, repeats to herself.]
But swiftly 'tis sown; ere a moment speeds by,
Deep, deep in the heart love is rooted for aye.
Margit.
[Absently.] Did you speak to me?—I heard not clearly—?