fragment, to be defended only as an experiment, and successful in
proportion as it renders single lines, speeches, or songs well. On the
whole, Eggen has been successful. There is a vigor and directness in his
style which, indeed, seem rather Norwegian than Shakespearean, but which
are, nevertheless, entirely convincing. One is scarcely conscious that
it is a translation. And in the lighter, more romantic passages Eggen
has hit the right tone with entire fidelity. His knowledge is sound. His
notes, though exhibiting no special learning, show clearly that he is
abreast of modern scholarship. Whenever his rendering seems daring, he
accompanies it with a note that clearly and briefly sets forth why a
particular word or phrase was chosen. The standard Danish, Norwegian,
and German translations are known to him, and occasionally he borrows
from them. But he knows exactly why he does borrow. His scholarship
and his real poetic power combine to give us a translation of which
Landsmaal literature has every reason to be proud. We need give only
a few passages. I like the rollicking humor of Puck's words:

Kor torer uhengt kjeltrings pakk daa skvaldre
so naere vogga hennar alvemor?
Kva?--skodespel i gjerdom? Eg vil sjaa paa--
kann hende spele med, um so eg synest.

And a little farther on when Bottom, adorned with his ass's head,
returns with Puck, and the simple players flee in terror and Puck
exclaims:

Eg fylgjer dykk og forer rundt i tunn,
i myr og busk og ormegras og klunger,
og snart eg er ein hest og snart ein hund,
ein gris, ein mannvond bjorn, snart flammetungur,
og kneggjer, goyr og ryler, murrar, brenn,
som hest, hund, gris, bjorn, varme--eitt um senn.

we give our unqualified admiration to the skill of the translator. Or,
compare Titania's instructions to the faries to serve her Bottom:

Ver venlege imot og ten den herren!
Dans vaent for augo hans, hopp der han gjeng!
Gjev aprikos og frukt fraa blaabaerlid,
ei korg med druvur, fikjur, morbaer i!
Stel honningsekken bort fraa annsam bi!
Til Nattljos hennar voksbein slit i fleng,--
kveik deim paa jonsok-onn i buskeheng!
Lys for min ven, naar han vil gaa i seng.
Fraa maala fivreld slit ein fager veng,
og fraa hans augo maaneljose steng.
Hels honom so, og kyss til honom sleng.

_Fyrste Alven_:
Menneskje.

_Andre Alven_:
Heil deg!

_Tridje Alven_:
Heil!

_Fjerde Alven_:
He