Monologue

Loke Monologue from The Death of Balder

From The Death of Balder by Johannes Ewald

male · anguished · 1:17 min

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Forgive me, sir; forsooth, I was confounded! Thou see'st in me a poor and ancient Finman. Far, far away from these terrific mountains, This year I built of flags and stones my hovel; I sought for reindeer--all my wealth; they doubtless Were captured by the bear! I, wretched being! My sight is feeble, and the night surprised me; The wind, as I observe too late, has shifted, And not a star is gleaming in the heavens: Ah! far must be the way unto my hovel! My feet are wearied out, for I have wandered The long and chilly night among the mountains. (BALDER: What wishest thou?) I die of frost and hunger. Whoe'er thou art, and if thou feelest pity-- Excuse my doubt--yet wouldst thou save the remnant Of life which trembles on my lips, conduct me Straight to the cheering hearth where bask thy servants.

About this piece

50s · despair · isolation · death · survival

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