Oh ay, you are tough, you ancient churl; But it’s all in vain, for you’ll soon be down. [_Hews at it again._ I see well enough you’ve a chain-mail shirt, But I’ll hew it through, were it never so stout.— Ay, ay, you’re shaking your twisted arms; You’ve reason enough for your spite and rage; But none the less you must bend the knee——! [_Breaks off suddenly._ Lies! ’Tis an old tree and nothing more. Lies! It was never a steel-clad churl; It’s only a fir-tree with fissured bark.— It is heavy labour this hewing timber; But the devil and all when you hew and dream too.— I’ll have done with it all—with this dwelling in mist, And, broad-awake, dreaming your senses away.— You’re an outlaw, lad! You are banned to the woods. [_Hews for a while rapidly._ Ay, an outlaw, ay. You’ve no mother now To spread your table and bring your food. If you’d eat, my lad, you must help yourself, Fetch your rations raw from the wood and stream, Split your own fir-roots[[58] and light your own fire, Bustle around, and arrange and prepare things. Would you clothe yourself warmly, you must stalk your deer; Would you found you a house, you must quarry the stones; Would you build up its walls, you must fell the logs, And shoulder them all to the building-place.— [_His axe sinks down; he gazes straight in front of him._ Brave shall the building be. Tower and vane Shall rise from the roof-tree, high and fair. And then I will carve, for the knob on the gable, A mermaid, shaped like a fish from the navel. Brass shall there be on the vane and the door-locks. Glass I must see and get hold of too. Strangers, passing, shall ask amazed: What is that glittering far on the hillside? [_Laughs angrily._ Devil’s own lies! There they come again. You’re an outlaw, lad! [_Hewing vigorously._ A bark-thatched hovel Is shelter enough both in rain and frost. [_Looks up at the tree._ Now he stands wavering. There; only a kick, And he topples and measures his length on the ground;— The thick-swarming undergrowth shudders around him! [_Begins lopping the branches from the trunk; suddenly he listens, and stands motionless with his axe in the air._