cultural resources in henrik ibsen's early environment - Ibsen.net

Then the matter was crude and very serious,
Then they walled in flesh and blood
Now one only plays with mortar and stone,
Walls up the door in front of empty air.
Don't you know the story? You don't?
Well then, it is just the time for a story,
When the night listens with anxious silence,
And the voice trembles at its own sound.
I shall recite you the old legend.
See, the parchment lies on the shelf;
The castle chaplain has written it down.
(He takes the parchment and sits down to read.)
(He reads.)
Oh! God, oh God!
CLARA.
THE COUNT.
Hush! Listen calmly now.
First I shall trim the light, so its shine
Can kiss away the foul shadows, since
The story is rather frightening, Clara.
"Let the gate fly open! Blow the horn loudly!
Alaric will ride out hunting.
Already he rides at a gallop down through the cornfield.
See the heron's plume, the purple-caped splendor!
His band of knights follows him closely,
The long lances gleam after prey,
And over the peasants' fields the company roams
Towards the edge of the distant, dark forest.
There are the arched halls of oak tree,
And the deer dashes over the green moss;
A distant Halloo! resounds through the forest,
The good dogs now run to the scent.
Count Alaric eagerly pursues the prey
And forgets everything in the hunt's wild delight
Until the day wanes, the bird chorus grows mute,
283