"Hold thy head up; within thee, too,
Rises a mighty vault of blue,
Wherein are harp tones sounding,
Swinging, exulting, rebounding.
"Hold thy head up, and loudly sing!
Keep not back what would sprout in spring;
Powers fermenting, glowing,
Must find a time for growing.
"Hold thy head up; baptism take,
From the hope that on high does break,
Arches of light o'er us throwing,
And in each life-spark glowing."[1]
[Footnote 1: Auber Forestier's translation.]
CHAPTER XI.
It was during the noonday rest; the people at the great Heidegards were
sleeping, the hay was scattered over the meadows, the rakes were staked
in the ground. Below the barn-bridge stood the hay sleds, the harness
lay, taken off, beside them, and the horses were tethered at a little
distance. With the exception of the latter and some hens that had
strayed across the fields, not a living creature was visible on the
whole plain.
There was a notch in the mountains above the gards, and through it the
road led to the Heidegard saeters,--large, fertile mountain plains. A
man was standing in this notch, taking a survey of the plain below,
just as if he were watching for some one. Behind him lay a little
mountain lake, from which flowed the brook which made this mountain
pass; on either side of this lake ran cattle-paths, leading to the
saeters, which could be seen in the distance.
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