Lend your ear then.— Eastward far, like brow-borne garlands, Lie the Malabarish seaboards. Hollanders and Portugueses Compass all the land with culture. There, moreover, swarms are dwelling Of the pure-bred Malabaris. These have muddled up the language, They now lord it in the country.— But in long-departed ages There the orang-outang was the ruler. He, the forest’s lord and master, Freely fought and snarled in freedom. As the hand of nature shaped him, Just so grinned he, just so gaped he. He could shriek unreprehended; He was ruler in his kingdom.— Ah, but then the foreign yoke came, Marred the forest-tongue primeval. Twice two hundred years of darkness[105] Brooded o’er the race of monkeys; And, you know, nights so protracted Bring a people to a standstill.— Mute are now the wood-notes primal; Grunts and growls are heard no longer;— If we’d utter our ideas, It must be by means of language. What constraint on all and sundry! Hollanders and Portugueses, Half-caste race and Malabaris, All alike must suffer by it.— I have tried to fight the battle Of our real, primal wood-speech,— Tried to bring to life its carcass,— Proved the people’s right of shrieking,— Shrieked myself, and shown the need of Shrieks in poems for the people.— Scantly, though, my work is valued.— Now I think you grasp my sorrow. Thanks for lending me a hearing;— Have you counsel, let me hear it! PEER. [_Softly._] It is written: Best be howling With the wolves that are about you. [_Aloud._ Friend, if I remember rightly, There are bushes in Morocco, Where orang-outangs in plenty Live with neither bard nor spokesman;— Their speech sounded Malabarish;— It was classical and pleasing. Why don’t you, like other worthies, Emigrate to serve your country? HUHU. Thanks for lending me a hearing;— I will do as you advise me. [_With a large gesture._ East! thou hast disowned thy singer! West! thou hast orang-outangs still! [_Goes._ BEGRIFFENFELDT. Well, was he himself? I should rather think so. He’s filled with his own affairs, simply and solely. He’s himself in all that comes out of him,— Himself, just because he’s beside himself. Come here! Now I’ll show you another one Who’s no less, since last evening, accordant with Reason. [_To a FELLAH, with a mummy on his back._ King Apis, how goes it, my mighty lord? THE FELLAH. [_Wildly, to PEER GYNT._] Am I King Apis?