THE COLLECTED POEMS OF HENRIK IBSEN Translated by John ...

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You once tweaked Future’s veil to chart
My life’s predestination, —
You swore to me the raven’s cry
Predicted, come all weather,
That she who quits the land and I
Should end, one fall, together.
“One lie your prophecy has been,
The raven’s croak mere prating;
Soon she must grace as Scotland’s queen
The golden throne there waiting.”
And Audun turned away enraged, —
But Haldor then, his squire,
Laughed in his beard as he engaged
Right warmly with his sire.
“What though the young princess be gone
For Scotland yonder sailing,
This, sire, you may depend upon:
You’ll meet again, unfailing;
The raven’s croak declared your fate
And hers, for both ‘tis plighted, —
Where’re she goes she’ll, soon or late,
Be at your side, united.
Sir Audun simply shrugged askance
And gave his words no heeding;
He stood as in a thoughtful trance,
A torpor vision-breeding.
He creased his thick and matted brow
And clutched his sword-hilt tightly,
Reviving many a memory now,
Some gloomily some lightly.
“I meted justice, set the law,
Gave Lagabøter backing,
I warded rapine’s tooth and claw,
I soothed the land’s sore racking;
And as his envoy I have plied
The wild and western waters,
And brought back Eric’s royal bride
From Britain to these quarters.
“King Eric I in peace sustained,
In time of need, defended, —
Base trickery was all I gained,
With death, perhaps, intended —
He’s wroth with me, I well may guess,
But north, by Søndmør’s sector,
In Lyster, high on Hægranæs,
My stronghold stands protector.