I'erje Viken Henrik FROM THE NORWEGIAN BY H. F. ROSING TERJE VIKEN COPYRIGHTED BY H. F. ROSING 1917 HENRIK IBSEN TERJE VIKEN Translated from the Norwegian By H. F. ROSING MINNEAPOLIS. MINN.. 1917 TERJE VIKEN There lived a man, one grayhaired and queer, On the outermost isle's barren sand, He never did harm, none needed him fear Neither on sea or on land. At times though his eyes with a fierce light shone, Though most on a stormy day, Then people preferred to leave him alone, And few had the courage, then to have gone In Terje Viken's way. Later, I saw him again, once more With fish by the pier he lay, His hair was white, but he sang as of yore And was like a youngster gay, To the lasses he spoke a jesting word, With village children he'd play, He swung his sou'wester and sprang aboard, Then hoisting his jib sailed home like a Lord, In sunshine, old Eagle gray. 2029031 6 TERJE VIKEN And so what I heard to tell I will try, Of him from beginning to end, And if it at times should seem rather dry The truth to it color will lend, Though by his own lips 'twas not to me told, But by those who stood by him near, When breathing his last and with hands growing cold, His eyes shone no more as they had done of old, He'd long passed his sixtieth year. In his youthful days he was wild and bold, Left young his parental board, He also was known, so his comrades told, As the youngest boatswain aboard. But after deserting in "Amsterdam", For home then pining at last, He came with "Foreningen" captain "Pram", But no one knew him that stood in the jam, As the little boy of the past. Now he had grown both manly and strong, Was well dressed and fair of face, He found his parents had been dead long And also the rest of his race. A day or two he sat brooding around, To the wind then sorrow he gave, No peace and no comfort on land could be found, It was better on shipboard and outward bound, On the Ocean's surging wave. TERJE VIKEN A year thereafter and Terje was wed, They said in great haste 'twas done, He quickly repented at thus being led To stay home and bask in the sun. In his own little place he lived by the way, One winter and did carouse, The windows there shone as bright as the day, With curtains so small and flowers so gay, In the little red painted house. When the ice was loosened by sunshine bright Terje went in brig out to sea, The gray goose, when in its swift southward flight, On his voyage back he could see, Then fell a sad weight on the sailor's breast, Though feeling both young and strong, He returned from a coast by sunlight blessed, Behind the ship's stern lay pleasure and jest, 'Fore the bow a cold winter long. They dropped the anchor, his mates went ashore, With leave on land to carouse, His longing glance followed them as of yore, As he stood by his little house, Then peeking in behind curtain so white, He saw in the cottage two, His wife spinning flax looked up with delight, And in her crib lay so smiling and bright, A small girl babe to him new. 8 TERJE VIKEN .Then 'twas Terjes temper more gentle grew, His pleasure and joy was deep, He toiled and worked, but no weariness knew, When rocking his child to sleep, On Sunday evening when dance music rang Wild from the neighbor house there, His merriest songs at home he then sang, When his little Anna on his lap sprang, And pulled at his dark brown hair. 'Twas nearing the time of the warring year, Of eighteen hundred and nine, They yet can tell of the anguish and fear, That made the Norse people pine, By English cruisers each harbor was locked, On land crop failure and want, Neither rich nor poor had their larder stocked, To powerful arms all labor was blocked, At the door starvation stood gaunt. Then thoughtful was Terje a day or two, To wind then sorrow he gave, He remembered a friend so old and true, The great ocean's surging wave, In the west has yet his signal deeds life, As legend's most daring feat, When ocean waves rolled in little less strife, Terje Viken rowed for his child and wife, In an open boat his seat. TERJE VIKEN The smallest boat that he there could find, He chose for his "Skagen" race, He left both mast and sail behind, He thought so best for his pace, Thought Terje that so his boat would him bear Though by wind and waves 'twas cast, From "Jutlands" reef 'twould be hard to steer clear, But harder from English man-o-war near, With eagle eyes in the mast. So now defying ill luck he would go, His hands gripped the oars so fast, And "Fladstrand" he reached without much ado, Prized cargo in boat he cast, God knows it was all that he could afford, Three barrels of barley, no more, He took only enough to save life aboard, He cared not for himself provision to hoard, 'Twas for wife and child ashore. Three nights and three days at boat seat held That brave and powerful one, On the fourth morn a dim line he beheld, Through fog at rising of sun. It was not a flying cloud he saw through, There were mountain peaks and dells, But higher than other mountaintops grew Imenes Saddle, so wide and blue, To him the right course it tells. 10 TERJE VIKEN Within a short time, sight of home will him thrill, With endurance nearly at end, But with faith and hope his heart is filled still, He's near asking God strength to send, Then it was words on his lips seemed to freeze, He stared, he did not see wrong, Through fog, that soon is dispersed by the breeze, A cruiser in Hesnes sound lay at ease, He sees it and hears sailor's song. His boat they sighted and signals they made, Now closed is his nearest route, But the wind at sunrise began to fade, So Terje to west turned about, They lowered the yawl from the gunnel in haste He hears the sailors singing, But with both feet hard against boatrib braced, He plied his oars and with such power raced, That blood from nails was springing. "Gaeslingen" 'twas called where a blind reef rose, Little east from "Homborg" sound, There waves break wild when the land wind blows, Where shallow water is found, There it spouted white, and yellow it shone, On ocean's most pleasant day, Though outside the reef the ocean may moan, Within there is always a peaceful zone, Where the breaking wavelets play. TERJE VIKEN 11 Therein Terje Viken's small boat went, Like an arrow 'tween wind and wave, But after him came by fifteen men sent, Their boat, which to keelwater clave. Then again calls Terje through breaker's loud noise, To God so hard he is pressed, He cries with anguish breaking his voice, My wife is starving she has no other choice .She's waiting with child at her breast. But louder than he yelled the fifteen behind, As at "LyngpY" so it is here, For English men's luck is certain to find Their quarry by Norway's coast near, Then Terje turned on the reef his prow, In the shallow their yawl also stuck, In it an off'cer stood in the bow, He called "Stop!" then threw an oar at the scow, And it in the bottom struck. It broke through the bottom rib and plank, The water spurting in streams, In two feet of water dear cargo sank, Still Terje defiantly screams, He broke through the ring of the well armed men, Over bulwark of boat he sprang, He dove and swam, and dove once again, They got their boat loose and where'er he turned then There sabers and bullets sang. 12 TERJE VIKEN They fished him up and brought him aboard, The cruiser gave victor's salute, In stern on cabin proud as a Lord, Stood the chief an eighteen year youth, This battle, his first, was with Terje's scow, He scarce could pride hold in check, But Terje was praying and begging him now, That home to proceed he would him allow, He lay on his knees on deck. He paid with his tears, they him laughter sold, And at his prayers they sneered, When the wind from east came on, blowing cold, This brave son to England steered, Then Terje was silent for now 'twas done, His sorrow he kept in his heart, And those that had captured this Norway's son, Could see him their jeering and laughter shun, So they from him kept apart. They kept him in prison many long years, It's said 'twas five very near, His neck was bent down and gray hair appears From dreaming of home held dear, His sorrowing heart would not give him ease, His mind seemed to wander afar, Then came eighteen hundred and fourteen, with peace And all Norse captives and Terje's release, They sailed home in a Swede man-o-war. TERJE VIKEN 13 When home he reached and stepped on the pier, With King's patent and pilot's pay, Then only few knew the grayhaired man here, Who went a young sailor away, His home now a stranger's, could they still be safe That here had been left alone, When the husband had gone and no one help gave, They perished of hunger and slept in one grave In community poor folk's zone. In years now passing great was his repute, As pilot on outermost isle, His intentions were good that none could dispute, He met ev'ry one with a smile, At times though his eyes with a fierce light shone, Though most on a stormy day, Then people preferred to leave him alone, And few had the courage then to have gone In Terje Viken's way. One moonlit night when wind blew on land, Came life in the pilot crew glib, An English yacht they saw near at hand, With reef in mainsail and jib, From the top of the mast a red flag flew, A cry for help without word, But inside there came a boat now in view, It tacked against wind that in hurricane blew, The pilot stood calm aboard. 14 TERJE VIKEN He seemed so sure this grayhaired man, Like a knight to the rigging he clung, The yacht now steered away from the land And its boat behind it swung. The Lord and Lady with child on her arm Came aft and the Lord did say, I'll make you so rich that life will you charm If you carry us safe from the breaker's harm But pilot dropped helm and stay. His cheek grew pale, he had now reached his goal His revenge at last he had found, Then in they steered and high on the shoal The splendid yacht stood aground. "It failed to mind helm. In the boat I command, My Lord and my Lady, obey ! 'Twill break in pieces, death is near at hand, Inside we soon will in smooth water land. My keelwater shows yon the way." St. Elmo's fire shone where the boat now flew Toward land with cargo so dear, In the stern stood the pilot strong and true, His eyes shining so wild though clear. He glanced to leeward tow'rd Gaeslingen's top And to loward tow'rd Hesnes strait, He let go both helm and stay sail strap, He swung an oar with the wide blade up And trust through boat bottom straight. TERJE VIKEN 15 In came the sea with a soughing sigh, Then ceased on the deck a fight, The mother lifted on her arm so high The daughter, with fear grown white. "Anna my child," she cried in her woe, Then trembled the grayhaired man's knees, He caught in the stay and let the helm go And the boat was stayed like a bird there slow Before caught in the whirling seas. It turned, it sank, but the ocean was smooth Inside in the breaker's lee, The water was shallow and so forsooth It only reached to the knee. The Lord then called, "I feel the reefs back, It trembles, there is no relief !" The pilot said smiling, "You surely faith lack, A sunken boat with barley in a sack Is holding us now on the reef." Then a half-forgotten memory came, Like a flash impression it made, He knew the sailor, this one was the same That on cruiser's deck had prayed. Then shouts Terje Viken, "You held in your hand All mine that I had on this earth, You gave it for glory, revenge is at hand Bend your knees, English Lord so proud in your land, To pilot of poor Norse birth." 16 TERJE VIKEN Terje stood leaning on oarhandle there As straight as in youthful years, The wind was rumpling his graysprinkled hair, His eye full of fire appears. "You on your cruiser in great splendor sailed, I rowed in my small boat near, I labored so hard, my strength nearly failed, You took my dear one's bread, no prayers availed, You met my plea with a sneer. Your wealthy Lady is fair as the spring, Her hand is like silk so fine, My wife's coarse hand still caress did me bring, And she was my own, yes mine, Your child's golden locks and dark blue eyes Like Our Father's own small guest, My darling was nothing to look at twice, She was as God made her, thin and small size, Like a poor man's child at best. See, that was my wealth upon this green earth, It was all I could call mine own, It seemed to me more than riches and birth, Though as naught to your heart of stone. But now the back-payment time appears And now shall you feel at last The anguish I felt in five long years That bent my neck and kept my eyes filled with tears, The years that in prison were passed." TERJE VIKEN 17 The child he caught and swung it clear, His left arm round the Lady's waist. "Back, back, my Lord a step, you come near, And I'll drown them both in haste." The Briton stood ready to at him spring, But his arm seemed weak and light. His breath was like fire, in his eyes a sting, And his hair that was like a raven's wing Turned gray in a single night. But on Terje's forehead shone peaceful light, His breast heaved calm and slow, He set the child down, her fear gone quite, And he kissed her hand also. He breathed as though from prison set free, His voice sounded even and mild, He said, "Terje Viken himself seems to be, 'Till now ran my blood like a torrent to sea, For revenge, for revenge I was wild !" "The long painful years in prison ran up, In anguish I could only weep, I sometimes seemed on a mountain top Looking down in an abyss so deep. But now it's o'er, we it even will call, What you owe it can not be paid, I gave what I had, you took from me all, I revenge should have, but 'twould be so small, I'm the way God has me made." 18 TERJE VIKEN / Each man was saved at the breaking of day, The yacht into harbor came, Of the tale of the night none a word would say, But far traveled Terje's fame. The dreams of a night so stormy and gray Were forgotten in morning fair, Once more carried Terje, straight the old way The neck that was bent when lowly he lay On the cruisers deck in pray'r. Now came the Lord and the Lady as well, With them came a great many more, They blessed him and shook his hand in farewell, They stood in the home by the shore, They thanked him for rescue when stormy winds blew, For rescue from ocean and reef, But Terje stroking the child's hair anew, Said, "This is the one who has rescued you, So surely is my belief." When the yacht was passing by Hesnes sound, Then Norway's ensign they flew, A little more west where white caps abound With salute they bid adieu, Then shimmered a tear in Terje's eye As he gazed out from the height, "Much I have lost, but I gained thereby, So maybe it was best," he said with a sigh, "And I thank Thee God in Thy might." TERJE VIKEN 19 So it was I saw him again once more With fish by the pier he lay, His hair was white, but he sang as of yore And was like a youngster gay. To the lasses he spoke a jesting word, With village children he'd play, He swung his sou'wester and sprang aboard, Then hoisting his jib sailed home like a Lord, In sunshine old Eagle gray. Near Fjsere church a grave can be found, It lies in a wind-swept place, It has no care, 'tis a sunken mound Where a black painted board you face. The name "TH^RIE WIIGHEN" is painted in white With the year when rest here he found, Here he lies in rainstorms and sun's strong light, And wild flowers there in coloring bright Among the coarse grasses abound. FOLKFBLADET PUBLISHING CO. PRINT 3~158 00434 1 UC SOUTHERN 000 024 374 I