Page:History of the Literature of the Scandinavian North.djvu/234

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LITERATURE OE THE SCANDINAVIAN NORTH.

most beautiful poems, "Rungsted's Lyksaligheder" (The bliss of Rungsted). Thither he withdrew, abandoned by relations and friends. An inexorable fate continued to pursue the unhappy poet. His health had gradually become utterly broken down, and he was almost constantly racked by excruciating pains. There were but few who understood him, and the work which occupied him was by most people regarded as a breadless profession, and he was looked upon as a worthless fellow. Everybody turned away from him, and to escape absolute starvation he was obliged to degrade his poetical gifts by the composition of paid poems for certain occasions, and finally it was even proposed to send him to the poor-house. But in spite of all this he managed to keep up his spirits, and many of his most exquisite works date from this very period of illness and indigence. At last even fate seemed weary of persecuting him, and the government gave him a salary which enabled him to live an independent life in Copenhagen, where the number of his friends and admirers rapidly increased. Here he wrote in 1779 his last great work "Fiskerne" (the fishermen), a dramatized picture of the life of the people on the coast, among whom he had dwelt so long. In this book, unquestionably Ewald's best work, are found the songs "Kong Kristian stod ved höien Mast" (King Christian stood by the lofty mast),[1] which has ever since been the favorite national song of the Danes, and "Liden Gunvor" (Little Gunvor), in which the spirit and tone of the popular ballad has been reproduced in a masterly manner. The sunshine which burst through the clouds on the poet's return to the capital as a result of brighter and happier conditions of life did not last long. His health was and remained ruined, and his illness soon so completely overpowered him that he frequently was unable to wield even a pen. "Fiskerne" was the result of the last blazing up of his gigantic spirit, which only the most intense suffering could compel to utter the faintest complaint, and this exquisite poem was

  1. Translated into English by Longfellow.