Fritz— It was the tree fell.
Rudolph— So falls
Iggdrasil and the golden roof comes down.
When the North bites, Val-father dies. No, Fritz;
The South has thrown a snake upon the North,
And in its trail no fairy can be found.
They, too, have gone to the mountains.
Fritz— Leave our homes?
Rudolph—For all of us it will be better there.
The slopes are thickly clothed with oak and pine.
There, too, your flock will find good grazing, Fritz.
Conrad and I saw ledges thick with grass.
Fritz—It's thick here, too.
Rudolph— And torrents tumbling down
Fill to the brim the basins of the rocks.
There, in the dryest season—
Fritz— Look down here. (He points down in the stream.)
And this mid-summer.
Rudolph— And game is plentiful.
Fritz—It's plentiful here, too; deer and—
Rudolph— Chamois
And wild-goats browsing on the crags.