me!  You murder not me alone, but thousands upon thousands of thoughts for my fatherland’s welfare; I have carried nothing out, I have not sown the least grain, or laid one stone upon another to witness that I have lived.  Ah, I have strength for better things than strife; it was the desire to work that drove me homewards; it was impatience that wrought me ill!  Believe me, try me, give me but half what Harald Gille promised me, even less; I ask but very little, if I may still live and strive to accomplish something!  Jesus, my God, it was ever the little that thou didst offer me, and that I ever scorned!

Where am I?  I stand upon my own grave, and hear the great bell ring.  I tremble as the tower beneath its stroke, for where now are the aims that were mine?  The grave opens its mouth and makes reply.  But life lies behind me like a dried-up stream, and these eighteen years are lost as in a desert.  The sign, the sign that was with me from my birth!  In lofty flight I have followed it hither with all the strength of my soul, and here I am struck by the arrow of death.  I fall, and behold the rocks beneath, upon which I shall be crushed.  Have I, then, seen a-wrong?  Ah, how the winds and currents of my life stood yonder, where it was warm and fruitful, while I toiled up where it grew ever colder, and my ship is now clasped by the drifting icebergs; a moment yet, and it must sink.  Then let it sink, and all will be over. [On his knees.] But in thy arms, All-Merciful, I shall find peace!

What miracle is this?  For in the hour I prayed the prayer was granted!  Peace, perfect peace! [Rises.] Then will I go to-morrow to my last battle as to the altar; peace shall at last be mine for all my longings.

[Holds his head bowed and covered by his hands.  As he, after a time, slowly removes them, he looks around.]

How this autumn evening brings reconciliation to my soul!  Sun and wave and shore and sea flow all together, as in the thought of God all others; never yet has it seemed so fair to me!  Yet it is not mine to reign over this lovely land.  How greatly I have done it ill!  But how has it all come so to pass? for in my wanderings I saw thy mountains in every sky, I yearned for home as a child longs for Christmas, yet I came no sooner, and when at last I came—­I gave thee wound upon wound.

But thou, in contemplative mood, now gazest upon me, and givest me at parting this fairest autumn night of thine.  I will ascend yonder rock and take a long farewell. [Mounts up.]

And even thus I stood eighteen years ago,—­thus looked out upon the sea, blue beneath the rising sun.  The fresh breezes of morning seemed wafted to me from a high future; through the sky’s light veil a vision of strange lands was mine; in the glow of the morning sun, wealth and honor shone upon me; and to all this, the white sails of the Crusaders should swiftly bear me.

Farewell, dreams of my youth!  Farewell, my sweet country!  Ah, to what sorrow thou hast brought me forth!  But now it will soon be over. [He descends.]