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But in the gabled window of the knightly castle, the lady of the castle
sat with the parchment roll before her, and wrote down the old recollections in
song and legend, while near her stood the old woman from the wood, and the
travelling peddler who went wandering through the country. As these told their
tales, there fluttered around them, with twittering and song, the Bird of
Popular Song, who never dies so long as the earth has a hill upon which his foot
may rest. And now he looks in upon us and sings.
As these told their
tales, there fluttered around them, with twittering and song, the Bird of
Popular Song, who never dies so long as the earth has a hill upon which his foot
may rest. And now he looks in upon us and sings. Without are the night and the
snow-storm. He lays the Runes beneath our tongues, and we know the land of our
home. Heaven speaks to us in our native tongue, in the voice of the Bird of
Popular Song. The old remembrances awake, the faded colors glow with a fresh
lustre, and story and song pour us a blessed draught which lifts up our minds
and our thoughts, so that the evening becomes as a Christmas festival.
The snow-flakes chase each other, the ice cracks, the storm rules
without, for he has the might, he is lord- but not the LORD OF ALL. It is winter
time. The wind is sharp as a two-edged sword, the snow-flakes chase each other;
it seems as though it had been snowing for days and weeks, and the snow lies
like a great mountain over the whole town, like a heavy dream of the winter
night. Everything on the earth is hidden away, only the golden cross of the
church, the symbol of faith, arises over the snow grave, and gleams in the blue
air and in the bright sunshine.
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That inspires
respect, for that's an order that grows beside the sandy way; but that every one
does not find. What have you to ask me? Don't stand there like a ridiculous oaf,
for I must go back again directly to my bung and my cask." And the man asked
about the Story, and inquired if the Moor-woman had met it in her journeyings.
"By the big brewing-vat!" exclaimed the woman, "haven't you got stories enough?
I really believe that most people have enough of them. Here are other things to
take notice of, other things to examine.
Here are other things to take
notice of, other things to examine. Even the children have gone beyond that.
Give the little boy a cigar, and the little girl a new crinoline; they like that
much better. To listen to stories! No, indeed, there are more important things
to be done here, and other things to notice!" "What do you mean by that?" asked
the man, "and what do you know of the world? You don't see anything but frogs
and Will-o'-the-Wisps!" "Yes, beware of the Will-o'-the-Wisps," said the
Moor-woman, "for they're out- they're let loose- that's what we must talk about!
Come to me in the moor, where my presence is necessary, and I will tell you all
about it; but you must make haste, and come while your seven four-leaved
shamrocks, for which one has six leaves, are still fresh, and the moon stands
high!" And the Moor-woman was gone.
It struck twelve in the town, and
before the last stroke had died away, the man was out in the yard, out in the
garden, and stood in the meadow. The mist had vanished, and the Moor-woman
stopped her brewing. "You've been a long time coming!" said the Moor-woman.
"Witches get forward faster than men, and I'm glad that I belong to the witch
folk!" "What have you to say to me now?" asked the man. "Is it anything about
the Story?" "Can you never get beyond asking about that?" retorted the woman.
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"It will
be too damp for you here," said the Frogs; "but you are very welcome! Are you a
he or a she? But it doesn't matter; you are equally welcome." And she was
invited to the concert in the evening- the family concert; great enthusiasm and
thin voices; we know the sort of thing. No refreshments were given, only there
was plenty to drink, for the whole pond was free. "Now I shall resume my
journey," said the little Toad; for she always felt a longing for something
better.
She saw the stars shining, so large and so bright, and she saw
the moon gleaming; and then she saw the sun rise, and mount higher and higher.
"Perhaps after all, I am still in a well, only in a larger well. I must get
higher yet; I feel a great restlessness and longing." And when the moon became
round and full, the poor creature thought, "I wonder if that is the bucket which
will be let down, and into which I must step to get higher up? Or is the sun the
great bucket? How great it is! how bright it is! It can take up all.
I
must look out, that I may not miss the opportunity. Oh, how it seems to shine in
my head! I don't think the jewel can shine brighter. But I haven't the jewel;
not that I cry about that- no, I must go higher up, into splendor and joy! I
feel so confident, and yet I am afraid. It's a difficult step to take, and yet
it must be taken. Onward, therefore, straight onward!" She took a few steps,
such as a crawling animal may take, and soon found herself on a road beside
which people dwelt; but there were flower gardens as well as kitchen
gardens.
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