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Orellana and Other Poems

By J. Logie Robertson

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IX. MINERVA IN THE SÆTERSDAL.
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249

IX. MINERVA IN THE SÆTERSDAL.

We said Far Vel to Frœsnæs at the dawn—
Leaving it as one leaves a treasure, soon
To long for it, and call it prize and boon
In words, sincere no doubt, but overdrawn.
Then on we raced as gamesome as the fawn
Though not so graceful, till mid-afternoon
Brought us to Hellé to the skydsstation
Under a cliff behind a natural lawn.
Here in a squalid room we look for ease,
Loath to sit down, but yet too tired to stand,
And call for black-cock, bacon, bread and cheese
—In short, whate'er their larder might command:
Enters Minerva, kilted to the knees,
With a vast shield of fladbröd in her hand!
 

Pronounced shûs-stashŏŏn—the posting-station.