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

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Now she is grown, and yet how often she remembers her childhood days that never, never<br />

come aga<strong>in</strong>, nor do its sights return!<br />

Still she sits often by the spr<strong>in</strong>g's bank, her cheeks are sta<strong>in</strong>ed with tears; the waves<br />

trickle slowly away, the even<strong>in</strong>g breeze ripples them lightly.<br />

Then the moon casts a mysterious gleam this way from the vaulted arch; she gazes <strong>in</strong>to<br />

the wave and th<strong>in</strong>ks she still sees that image yonder!<br />

THE BALL OF THE DEAD<br />

Across the deserted churchyard the night has spread its w<strong>in</strong>gs; the dead slumber there so<br />

peacefully, a slumber not easily troubled; and mysteriously <strong>in</strong> the moon's radiance may be<br />

glimpsed the marble stone, which, adorned with sentimental wreaths, covers the bones of<br />

the dead.<br />

But the silence of yon grave is broken by midnight's hollow stroke; then, if you would<br />

only listen, you would hear a fa<strong>in</strong>t uproar, and while it approaches, it thunders more and<br />

more, and the stroller genuflects and shudders, although he sees noth<strong>in</strong>g!<br />

Then the sunken graves are opened and every moss-covered stone, and forth from those<br />

low dwell<strong>in</strong>gs so silently the dead step out. Yet at every step they clapped their rott<strong>in</strong>g<br />

knucklebones; but the gown, that white l<strong>in</strong>en, it shone pure as the snow.<br />

They take hold of one another's hands, and gather as for a celebration; a lygtmand 19 burns<br />

like a lamp, every skeleton is a welcome guest, each seizes its neighbor's hand and dances<br />

so wildly <strong>in</strong> a r<strong>in</strong>g; perhaps a pr<strong>in</strong>ce's spirit leaps around with a beggar's!<br />

Don't th<strong>in</strong>k that musicians are lack<strong>in</strong>g at such an excellent ball: a skeleton rattles his<br />

knuckles, a second might make ready to strike a skull like a drum; it resounds, like the<br />

last sigh from a break<strong>in</strong>g heart; see, that is the dead's music!<br />

They dance so merrily around and about the crumbled grave monuments; but the graves<br />

wait for them once more, only one hour are they granted, the ball they gave is ended;<br />

s<strong>in</strong>ce the clock's stroke sounds hollowly, and deep <strong>in</strong> the peaceful grave they slumber<br />

until Judgement Day!<br />

19 “Corpse-man,” a figure from folklore.<br />

479

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