The heavenly guest with other unpublished writings

The little old Troll on the hillside sat,
And he cried, as he stamped his foot and frowned,
And twisted his body this way and that,
“I would that the church bells all were drowned.”

For up in the village of Kund there rang
On the morning air a mellow chime,
But he stopped his ears at the silver clang,
And cursed the sound for the hundredth time.

“Over to Funen I'll go,” he said,
“These pious folk are too much for me!”
So away from the village of Kund he fled,
“For I must have quiet and peace,” quoth he.

In Funen no church bells vexed his soul,
But ever for Kund did he fret and long,
And ever a mischief wrought in the Troll
To wreak on its people some deadly wrong.

A peasant to Funen came one day,
From peasant Kund, the Troll so grim
In the guise of a Christian stood in his way,
“And where do you come from?” he questioned him.

The good man answered, “From Kund I come.”
“From Kund!” said the Troll, “well, will you take
This letter with you when you go home?
But mind that the seal you do not break.

And when you get to the churchyard wall,
Just toss it over and let it be,
Wherever the letter may chance to fall
The owner will come for it presently.”

“Why, yes!” said the peasant, “that I'll do.”
Then into his pocket the wicked sprite
The letter thrust, and “Good day to you,
And thanks,” said the Troll, and was out of sight,

And out of mind! For the man forgot
Both the Troll and his message speedily,
The way was long and the day was hot,
And into Zealand back came he.

Weary he grew of the dust and heat,
So down by a meadow great and wide
He sat, to rest, while the birds sang sweet,
And the wild flowers blossomed on every side.

Then suddenly into his stupid head
The thought of the letter flashed, “I'll look
At the paper, 'twill do no harm,” he said,
And slow from his pocket the missive took.

He held it and turned it before his eyes
This way and that, till out of the seal
He saw with a dumb and dazed surprise
A drop of water begin to steal.

Then while he stared in a mute amaze,
Another and still another oozed,
Then quick as lightning beneath his gaze
The letter opened and straightway loosed

A rushing flood on the meadows green,
Scarcely the peasant had time to flee:
It was a rush for life! Where the grass had been
Sparkled the sheen of a silver sea!

For into the letter the wicked Troll,
A whole wide lake he had shut and sealed
To send to Kund, that its water might roll
Over the church and the bell that pealed!

But still the bell in the steeple swings
In pleasant Kund to this very day.
And still from the spire it sweetly rings
To call the people to praise and pray.

And the Kund folk undisturbed thank God
That the Troll his purpose could not fill,
And as for the lake, Tiis lake and broad,
It lies over the meadow sparkling still.

University of Virginia Library

THE TROLL AND TIIS LAKE

A Scandinavian Legend