OLAF.
Am I not to myself a mysterious riddle?
Am I Olaf Liljekrans, the nobly born,
The knight so proud, who vaunted his race,
Who laughed the singing of birds to scorn!
And yet, from my heart I tear what I was!
Happy I am,—and that can I understand—
Your prophecy failed,—I should happiness find,
When the fairest of flowers I had found in the land.
Ah! happiness here I have found!
ALFHILD. I prophesied nothing. But—tell me more of the life that is yonder!