[From his Preface to his “Selected Works,” where he introduces it as “a
song of salutation to one who, honored by me as master, is not less dear
to me as a man” (Tracy’s translation).]
Profoundly dreamt a youth on Norland waste;
But no—it is not waste where fairy rings
Reflect the past as well as future things,
When love and woe in boding tones are drest.
They greeted him, they kissed him, and retreated;
They left for him an instrument of sound,
Whose forceful strings with highest deeds could bound,
And yet with childish frolics be entreated.
He wakes—the gift he seizes, comprehending
Its sweet mysterious pleasure how to prove,
And pours it forth in pure harmonious blending.
O mayst thou, ever victor, joyful move,
Thou Northland sailor, on life’s voyage wending,
Conscious of God within thee and above.