Should thrill with shame at any speech of payment;
For noble actions are their own adornment;

The very thought of profit casts a shadow

Over their splendor. This know well the righteous.
Yet, brothers, 'tis our duty that we spurn not
The meed unsought, on us bestowed by Heaven.
Gunild-That has been ours.
Odelhiem-

Noble soul, I know it!

But may we face our God, dust-shapen creatures,
And cry to him, Desist! enough of blessings!
And have not all of us a loving mother
Who may compel acceptance?

Svend
Knud
Odelhiem

Who?

Where?

Denmark;

Whose right it is, whose pleasure, and whose honor,
Virtue to crown, as to condemn the wicked.

The tenderest of mothers still must loosen

Knud

Odelhiem

The bonds wherewith she holds us, and all fearful,

Intrust our footsteps to ourselves and Heaven,

Ere we attain to noble deeds, the well-spring

Whence streams the light that decks her with its splendor.
Yet still she draws men to her-not the valorous,
They find their own way- but our weaker brothers
She draws to her with prayer and promised guerdon,
With hopes, and with report of others' fortune.
And you whose hearts are burdened with the feeling
That this, of all your days the very fairest,
Should bring you unawaited grim misfortune,
The loss of wealth, the pang of hopeless passion,-
Shall you give cause for men to say reproachful:
"These folk gave glory to our haughty Denmark
By great heroic deeds, and now they languish
In want and woe, by Denmark unrequited"?
My heart is Danish; he should feel its anger
Who in my hearing dared to rail at Denmark,
And what she offers, men should not hold lightly;
Yet how, and in what shape, she offers largess
Our losses to repair, bring cheer to others,—
That is not clear to my poor understanding.

Know that her arms outstretched are ever helpful;
All-powerful is her will; her law forever
Binds to her lofty aims her wealthy children.

Their joy to cherish valorous deeds, their duty
To offer in her name whatever solace,

Whatever help and strength there lies in riches.
Conscious that wealth was mine, I stood rejoicing
That I was near, and heard her voice. O brothers!
Do not begrudge the joy with which I hearken
To such a mother's hest: for I have hearkened,
And with the friend whose guest I am up yonder
Have left the cost of boat and wedding outfit;
While for our Anders and the noble fellows
Who bravely took their part in all the danger,
Is set apart a gift of equal value.

And every year, so long as still is living

One of the five, they and their children's children
Shall, that this day be evermore remembered,
Receive an equal pledge of Denmark's bounty.
For all this I have taken care; this, brothers,
To do, your deed and our fair land command me.
Svend Thy words are generous and noble, stranger;
They overwhelm us.

Knud

I believe, by Heaven,
My soul is wax. When played I thus the woman?
Because my tears are flowing, do not scorn me!
What shall I answer thee? Speak for me, Anders!
Anders I know thee now, the man of noble presence

Our friend has told us of. Great soul and worthy,
Do what thou will'st; thou hast deserved the pleasure
Of helping honest Danes! 'Twere pride stiff-necked
In us to scorn so generous an offer.

Ingratitude it were, and sin toward Heaven.

Gunild

This is its festal day; with song and gladness,
The cheerful bowl, and-for our maidens' pleasure-
The merry dance, I trust that we may end it.
All is provided. Now, my worthy brothers,
We will forget the past, and but remember
The valor and the fortune of our country.

CHORUS

Odelhiem- The deed that is not felt a burden,

That leaves within the breast no smart,

All

Good hap be evermore its guerdon,

While freedom warms the Cimbrian heart.

May Danish soil give ever birth

To deeds of ripe and lasting worth!
May Danish soil give ever birth

To deeds of ripe and lasting worth!
Gunild―O piety, where thy gentle leaven

All

With promise fair fills young and old,
And mingles with the dreams that Heaven
On earth bestows of joy untold;

True courage from thy strength doth spring,
And seeks the shadow of thy wing.

True courage from thy strength doth spring,
And seeks the shadow of thy wing.

Anders-Where smiles from Heaven shed light abiding,
Rewarding our industrious days,

All

Lise

The sons of courage safely guiding

Upon the old well-trodden ways:

Where brave men follow wisdom's beck,
Heroic deeds our annals deck.

Our joy to follow wisdom's beck,

That noble deeds our lives may deck.
The courage that in old days melted

The warrior-maid's defense of pride,
Still stirs the hero, as, unbelted,
He lies at his beloved's side.
Still loving Danish maidens start
The fire that lights the hero-heart.
Still loving Danish maidens start
The fire that lights the hero-heart.
Svend Where countless footprints onward reaching
To valiant souls a pathway ope,

All

All

The chosen way of honor teaching,

Bidding them forward march with hope:

On Denmark's memory-famous strand

Men win renown at danger's hand.

On Denmark's memory-famous strand
Men win renown at danger's hand.

Birthe Where men with unknown brothers vying

In life and death make common cause;
Where sympathy consoles the dying,

And slays despair in death's own jaws;
Where hearts for love of Denmark swell,
Deceit and evil dare not dwell.

All

Where hearts for love of Denmark swell,
Deceit and evil dare not dwell.

Knud Beloved Sea, thy life unresting

All

Men

We feel our inmost veins transfuse;
Our hearts grow stout thy billows breasting;
Thy air our failing strength renews;
Our pride and joy, O Northern Sea!
The Danish soul takes fire from thee.
Our pride and joy, O Northern Sea!
The Danish soul takes fire from thee.
Ye golden fields, rest ever smiling!

Foam in thy pride, blue-silver wave!
Women - Be, 'neath thy guard of warriors whiling,
Ever the birth-land of the brave!
Denmark, of valor be the home!

Men Women

And honored for all time to come!
Denmark, of valor be the home,

And honored for all time to come!

[The play ends with a dance of the fisher folk.

FREDERICK WILLIAM FARRAR

(1831-)

MONG the influences that have formed my life," says Dean Farrar, "I must mention the character of my mother. She had no memorial in this world; she passed her life in the deep valley of poverty, obscurity, and trial, but she has left to her only surviving son the recollections of a saint. As a boy I was not sent to our great English public schools, but to one which is comparatively unknown, although several men were trained there who are now playing a considerable part in the world. That school was King William's College, at Castleton on the Isle of Man. I have sketched the natural surroundings of the school, and many little incidents of its daily life, in the first book I wrote-Eric, or Little by Little,>» now in its twentysixth edition. "Accident," he continues, made me an author. The proposal to write a book on school life came unsought, and I naturally found in my own reminiscences the colors in which I had to work."

FREDERICK W. FARRAR

Born in Bombay in 1831, Farrar took numerous prizes and honors during his school life at King's College, and at nineteen was made classical exhibitioner of the London University, where he was graduated. In 1854 he took his bachelor's degree at Trinity College, Cambridge, was ordained deacon, and in 1857 was admitted to priest's orders. For several years he was an assistant master at Harrow; in 1871 became head-master of Marlborough College, where he remained till April 1876, when he was appointed canon in Westminster Abbey and rector of St. Margaret's. While at Harrow he was made chaplain to the Queen, and in 1883 Archdeacon of Westminster. He is at present Dean of Canterbury.

His literary fecundity is extraordinary. Besides his 'Life of Christ,' which gave him an almost world-wide fame; his 'Life and Work of St. Paul' and his Beginnings of Christianity,' each of which represents much labor, he has written a course of Hulsean Lectures on the Witness of History to Christ'; a bulky volume on 'Eschatology';