ding-dong"

thusitsoundscomplaininglyoutofthebell-deepintheodense-au.thatiswhatgrandmothertoldus.

buttheschoolmastersaysthattherewasnotanybellthatrungdownthere,forthatitcouldnotdoso;andthatnoau-manndweltyonder,fortherewasnoau-mannatall!andwhenalltheotherchurchbellsaresoundingsweetly,hesaysthatitisnotreallythebellsthataresounding,butthatitistheairitselfwhichsendsforththenotes;andgrandmothersaidtousthatthebellitselfsaiditwastheairwhotoldittohim,consequentlytheyareagreedonthatpoint,andthismuchissure.

"becautious,cautious,andtakegoodheedtothyself,"theybothsay.

theairknowseverything.itisaroundus,itisinus,ittalksofourthoughtsandofourdeeds,anditspeakslongerofthemthandoesthebelldowninthedepthsoftheodense-auwheretheau-manndwells.itringsitoutinthevaultofheaven,far,farout,foreverandever,tilltheheavenbellssound"ding-dong!ding-dong!"

theend.

1872

fairytalesofhanschristianandersen

thebirdofpopularsong

byhanschristianandersen

itiswinter-time.theearthwearsasnowygarment,andlookslikemarblehewnoutoftherock;theairisbrightandclear;thewindissharpasawell-temperedsword,andthetreesstandlikebranchesofwhitecoralorbloomingalmondtwigs,andhereitiskeenasontheloftyalps.

thenightissplendidinthegleamofthenorthernlights,andintheglitterofinnumerabletwinklingstars.

butwesitinthewarmroom,bythehotstove,andtalkabouttheoldtimes.andwelistentothisstory:

bytheopenseawasagiant'sgrave;andonthegrave-moundsatatmidnightthespiritoftheburiedhero,whohadbeenaking.thegoldencircletgleamedonhisbrow,hishairflutteredinthewind,andhewascladinsteelandiron.hebenthisheadmournfully,andsighedindeepsorrow,asanunquietspiritmightsigh.

andashipcamesailingby.presentlythesailorsloweredtheanchorandlanded.amongthemwasasinger,andheapproachedtheroyalspirit,andsaid,

"whymournestthou,andwhereforedostthousufferthus?"

andthedeadmananswered,

"noonehassungthedeedsofmylife;theyaredeadandforgotten.songdothnotcarrythemforthoverthelands,norintotheheartsofmen;thereforeihavenorestandnopeace."

andhespokeofhisworks,andofhiswarlikedeeds,whichhiscontemporarieshadknown,butwhichhadnotbeensung,becausetherewasnosingeramonghiscompanions.

thentheoldbardstruckthestringsofhisharp,andsangoftheyouthfulcourageofthehero,ofthestrengthoftheman,andofthegreatnessofhisgooddeeds.thenthefaceofthedeadonegleamedlikethemarginofthecloudinthemoonlight.gladlyandofgoodcourage,theformaroseinsplendorandinmajesty,andvanishedliketheglancingofthenorthernlight.noughtwastobeseenbutthegreenturfymound,withthestonesonwhichnorunicrecordhasbeengraven;butatthelastsoundoftheharptheresoaredoverthehill,asthoughhehadflutteredfromtheharp,alittlebird,acharmingsinging-bird,withringingvoiceofthethrush,withthemovingvoicepathosofthehumanheart,withavoicethattoldofhome,likethevoicethatisheardbythebirdofpassage.thesinging-birdsoaredaway,overmountainandvalley,overfieldandwood-hewasthebirdofpopularsong,whoneverdies.

wehearhissong-wehearitnowintheroomwhilethewhitebeesareswarmingwithout,andthestormclutchesthewindows.thebirdsingsnotalonetherequiemofheroes;hesingsalsosweetgentlesongsoflove,somanyandsowarm,ofnorthernfidelityandtruth.hehasstoriesinwordsandintones;hehasproverbsandsnatchesofproverbs;songswhich,likeruneslaidunderadeadman'stongue,forcehimtospeak;andthuspopularsongtellsofthelandofhisbirth.

intheoldheathendays,inthetimesofthevikings,thepopularspeechwasenshrinedintheharpofthebard.

inthedaysofknightlycastles,whenthestrongestfistheldthescalesofjustice,whenonlymightwasright,andapeasantandadogwereofequalimportance,wheredidthebirdofsongfindshelterandprotection?