短篇安徒生童話故事英文版 the Old Grave-Stone老墓碑

　　IN a house， with a large courtyard， in aprovincial town， at that time of the year in whichpeople say the evenings are growing longer， afamily circle were gathered together at their oldhome. A lamp burned on the table， although theweather was mild and warm， and the long curtainshung down before the open windows， and withoutthe moon shone brightly in the dark-blue sky.

　　But they were not talking of the moon， but of a large， old stone that lay below in thecourtyard not very far from the kitchen door. The maids often laid the clean copper saucepansand kitchen vessels on this stone， that they might dry in the sun， and the children werefond of playing on it. It was， in fact， an old grave-stone.

　　“Yes，” said the master of the house， “I believe the stone came from the graveyard of theold church of the convent which was pulled down， and the pulpit， the monuments， and thegrave-stones sold. My father bought the latter; most of them were cut in two and used forpaving-stones， but that one stone was preserved whole， and laid in the courtyard.”

　　“Any one can see that it is a grave-stone，” said the eldest of the children; “therepresentation of an hour-glass and part of the figure of an angel can still be traced， but theinscription beneath is quite worn out， excepting the name 'Preben，' and a large 'S' close byit， and a little farther down the name of 'Martha' can be easily read. But nothing more， andeven that cannot be seen unless it has been raining， or when we have washed the stone.”

　　“Dear me! how singular. Why that must be the grave-stone of Preben Schwane and hiswife.”

　　the old man who said this looked old enough to be the grandfather of all present in theroom.

　　“Yes，” he continued， “these people were among the last who were buried in thechurchyard of the old convent. They were a very worthy old couple， I can remember them wellin the days of my boyhood. Every one knew them， and they were esteemed by all. They werethe oldest residents in the town， and people said they possessed a ton of gold， yet theywere always very plainly dressed， in the coarsest stuff， but with linen of the purestwhiteness. Preben and Martha were a fine old couple， and when they both sat on the bench，at the top of the steep stone steps， in front of their house， with the branches of the linden-tree waving above them， and nodded in a gentle， friendly way to passers by， it really madeone feel quite happy. They were very good to the poor; they fed them and clothed them， andin their benevolence there was judgment as well as true Christianity. The old woman diedfirst; that day is still quite vividly before my eyes. I was a little boy， and had accompanied myfather to the old man's house. Martha had fallen into the sleep of death just as we arrivedthere. The corpse lay in a bedroom， near to the one in which we sat， and the old man was inGREat distress and weeping like a child. He spoke to my father， and to a few neighbors whowere there， of how lonely he should feel now she was gone， and how good and true she， hisdead wife， had been during the number of years that they had passed through life together，and how they had become acquainted， and learnt to love each other. I was， as I have said，a boy， and only stood by and listened to what the others said; but it filled me with a strangeemotion to listen to the old man， and to watch how the color rose in his cheeks as he spokeof the days of their courtship， of how beautiful she was， and how many little tricks he hadbeen guilty of， that he might meet her. And then he talked of his wedding-day; and his eyesbrightened， and he seemed to be carried back， by his words， to that joyful time. And yetthere she was， lying in the next room， dead—an old woman， and he was an old man，speaking of the days of hope， long passed away. Ah， well， so it is; then I was but a child，and now I am old， as old as Preben Schwane then was. Time passes away， and all thingschanged. I can remember quite well the day on which she was buried， and how Old Prebenwalked close behind the coffin.

　　“A few years before this time the old couple had had their grave-stone prepared， with aninscription and their names， but not the date. In the evening the stone was taken to thechurchyard， and laid on the grave. A year later it was taken up， that Old Preben might be laidby the side of his wife. They did not leave behind them wealth， they left behind them far lessthan people had believed they possessed; what there was went to families distantly related tothem， of whom， till then， no one had ever heard. The old house， with its balcony ofwickerwork， and the bench at the top of the high steps， under the lime-tree， wasconsidered， by the road-inspectors， too old and rotten to be left standing. Afterwards，when the same fate befell the convent church， and the graveyard was destroyed， the grave-stone of Preben and Martha， like everything else， was sold to whoever would buy it. And so ithappened that this stone was not cut in two as many others had been， but now lies in thecourtyard below， a scouring block for the maids， and a playground for the children. Thepaved street now passes over the resting place of Old Preben and his wife; no one thinks ofthem any more now.”

　　And the old man who had spoken of all this shook his head mournfully， and said， “Forgotten! Ah， yes， everything will be forgotten!” And then the conversation turned onother matters.

　　But the youngest child in the room， a boy， with large， earnest eyes， mounted upon achair behind the window curtains， and looked out into the yard， where the moon was pouringa flood of light on the old gravestone，—the stone that had always appeared to him so dull andflat， but which lay there now like a GREat leaf out of a book of history. All that the boy hadheard of Old Preben and his wife seemed clearly defined on the stone， and as he gazed on it，and glanced at the clear， bright moon shining in the pure air， it was as if the light of God'scountenance beamed over His beautiful world.

　　“Forgotten! Everything will be forgotten!” still echoed through the room， and in thesame moment an invisible spirit whispered to the heart of the boy， “Preserve carefully theseed that has been entrusted to thee， that it may grow and thrive. Guard it well. Throughthee， my child， shall the obliterated inscription on the old， weather-beaten grave-stone goforth to future generations in clear， golden characters. The old pair shall again wanderthrough the streets arm-in-arm， or sit with their fresh， healthy cheeks on the bench underthe lime-tree， and smile and nod at rich and poor. The seed of this hour shall ripen in thecourse of years into a beautiful poem. The beautiful and the good are never forgotten， theylive always in story or in song.”

　　在一個(gè)小鄉(xiāng)鎮(zhèn)里，有一個(gè)人自己擁有一幢房子。有一天晚上，他全家的人圍坐在一起。這正是人們所常說的“夜長”的季節(jié)。這種時(shí)刻既溫暖，又舒適。燈亮了;長長的窗簾拉下來了。窗子上擺著許多花盆;外面是一片美麗的月光。不過他們并不是在談?wù)撨@件事。他們是在談?wù)撝粔K古老的大石頭。這塊石頭躺在院子里、緊靠著廚房門旁邊。

　　女傭人常常把擦過了的銅制的用具放在上面曬;孩子們也喜歡在上面玩耍。事實(shí)上它是一個(gè)古老的墓碑。“是的，”房子的主人說，“我相信它是從那個(gè)拆除了的老修道院搬來的。人們把里面的宣講臺(tái)、紀(jì)念牌和墓碑全都賣了!我去世了的父親買了好幾塊墓石，每塊都打斷了，當(dāng)做鋪道石用，不過這塊墓石留下來了，一直躺在院子那兒沒有動(dòng)。”“人們一眼就可以看出，這是一塊墓石，”最大的一個(gè)孩子說，“我們?nèi)匀豢梢钥闯鏊厦婵痰糜幸粋€(gè)滴漏1和一個(gè)安琪兒的片斷。不過它上面的字差不多全都模糊了，只剩下卜列本這個(gè)名字和后邊的一個(gè)大字母S，以及離此更遠(yuǎn)一點(diǎn)的”瑪爾塔“!此外甚么東西也看不見了。只有在下了雨，或者當(dāng)我們把它洗凈了以后，我們才能看得清楚。”

　　1這是古代一種最原始的鐘。它是由上下兩個(gè)玻璃球作成的，由一個(gè)小頸聯(lián)在一起。上面的球裝滿沙子或水銀，通過這小頸流到下面的一個(gè)球里去。這個(gè)過程所花的時(shí)間，一般是一小時(shí)。時(shí)刻就以這流盡的過程為單位計(jì)算。古代教堂里常用這種鐘。“天哪，這就是卜列本·斯萬尼和他妻子的墓石!”一個(gè)老人插進(jìn)來說。他是那么老，簡直可以作為這所房子里所有人的祖父。“是的，他們是最后埋在這個(gè)老修道院墓地里的一對夫婦。他們從我小時(shí)起就是一對老好人。大家都認(rèn)識(shí)他們，大家都喜歡他們。
他們是這小城里的一對元老。大家都說他們所有的金子一個(gè)桶也裝不完。但是他們穿的衣服卻非常樸素，總是粗料子做的;不過他們的桌布、被單等總是雪白的。他們——卜列本和瑪爾塔——是一對可愛的夫婦!當(dāng)他們坐在屋子面前那個(gè)很高的石臺(tái)階上的一條凳子上時(shí)，老菩提樹就把枝子罩在他們頭上;他們和善地、溫柔地對你點(diǎn)著頭——這使你感到愉快。他們對窮人非常好，給他們飯吃，給他們衣服穿。他們的慈善行為充分地表示出他們的善意和基督精神。”太太先去世!那一天我記得清清楚楚。我那時(shí)是一個(gè)很小的孩子，跟著爸爸一起到老卜列本家里去，那時(shí)她剛剛合上眼睛，這老頭兒非常難過，哭得像一個(gè)小孩子。她的屍體還放在睡房里，離我們現(xiàn)在坐的這地方不遠(yuǎn)。他那時(shí)對我的爸爸和幾個(gè)鄰人說，他此后將會(huì)多么孤獨(dú)，她曾經(jīng)多么好，他們曾經(jīng)怎樣在一起生活了多少年，他們是怎樣先認(rèn)識(shí)的，然后又怎樣相愛起來。我已經(jīng)說過，我那時(shí)很小，只能站在旁邊聽。我聽到這老人講話，我也注意到，當(dāng)他一講起他們的訂婚經(jīng)過、她是怎樣的美麗、他怎樣找出許多天真的托詞去會(huì)見她的時(shí)候，他就活潑起來，他的雙頰就漸漸紅潤起來;這時(shí)我就感到非常驚奇。於是他就談起他結(jié)婚的那個(gè)日子;他的眼睛這時(shí)也發(fā)出閃光來。他似乎又回到那個(gè)快樂的年代里去了。但是她——一個(gè)老女人——卻躺在隔壁房間里，死去了。他自己也是一個(gè)老頭兒，談?wù)撝^去那些充滿了希望的日子!是的，是的，世事就是這樣!“那時(shí)候我還不過是一個(gè)小孩子，不過現(xiàn)在我也老了，老了——像卜列本·斯萬尼一樣。時(shí)間過去了，一切事情都改變了!我記得她入葬那天的情景：卜列本·斯萬尼緊跟在棺材后邊。好幾年以前，這對夫婦就準(zhǔn)備好了他們的墓碑，在那上面刻好了他們的名字和碑文——只是沒有填上死的年月。在一天晚間，這墓碑被抬到教堂的墓地里去，放在墳上。一年以后，它又被揭開了，老卜列本又在他妻子的身邊躺下去了。”他們不像人們所想像的和所講的那樣，身后并沒有留下許多錢財(cái)。剩下的一點(diǎn)東西都送給了遠(yuǎn)房親戚——直到那時(shí)人們才知道有這些親戚。那座木房子——和它的臺(tái)階頂上菩提樹下的一條凳子——已經(jīng)被市政府拆除了，因?yàn)樗?，不能再讓它存留下去，后來那個(gè)修道院也遭受到同樣的命運(yùn)：那個(gè)墓地也剷平了，卜列本和瑪爾塔的墓碑，像別的墓碑一樣，也賣給任何愿意買它的人了。現(xiàn)在事又湊巧，這塊墓石居然沒有被打碎，給人用掉;它卻仍然躺在這院子里，作為女傭人放廚房用具和孩子們玩耍的地方。在卜列本和他的妻子安息的地上現(xiàn)在鋪出了一條街道。誰也不再記起他們了。“

　　講這故事的老人悲哀地?fù)u搖頭。“被遺忘了!一切東西都會(huì)被遺忘了!”他說。

　　於是他們在這房間里談起別的事情來。不過那個(gè)最小的孩子——那個(gè)有一雙嚴(yán)肅的大眼睛的孩子——爬到窗簾后邊的一個(gè)椅子上去，朝院子里眺望。月光明朗地正照在這塊大墓石上——對他說來。這一直是一塊空洞和單調(diào)的石頭。不過它現(xiàn)在躺在那兒像一整部歷史中的一頁。這孩子所聽到的關(guān)於老卜列本和他的妻子的故事似乎就寫在它上面。他望了望它，然后又望了望那個(gè)潔白的月亮，那個(gè)明朗高闊的天空。這很像造物主的面孔，向這整個(gè)的世界微笑。“被遺忘了!一切東西都會(huì)被遺忘了!”這是房間里的人所說的一句話。這時(shí)候，有一個(gè)看不見的安琪兒飛進(jìn)來，吻了這孩子的前額，同時(shí)低聲地對他說：“好好地保管著這顆藏在你身體內(nèi)的種子吧，一直到它成熟的時(shí)候!通過你，我的孩子，那塊老墓石上模糊的碑文，它的每個(gè)字，將會(huì)射出金光，傳到后代!那對老年夫婦將會(huì)手挽著手，又在古老的街上走過，微笑著，現(xiàn)出他們新鮮和健康的面孔，在菩提樹下，在那個(gè)高臺(tái)階上的凳子上坐著，對過往的人點(diǎn)頭——不論是貧或是富。從這時(shí)開始，這顆種子，到了適當(dāng)?shù)臅r(shí)候，將會(huì)成熟，開出花來，成為一首詩。美的和善的東西是永遠(yuǎn)不會(huì)給遺忘的;它在傳說和歌謠中將會(huì)獲得永恆的生命。”

　　短篇安徒生童話故事英文版 the Swan's Nest天鵝的巢

　　BETWEEN the Baltic and the North Sea there liesan old swan's nest， wherein swans are born andhave been born that shall never die.

　　In olden times a flock of swans flew over theAlps to the GREen plains around Milan， where it wasdelightful to dwell. This flight of swans men calledthe Lombards.

　　Another flock， with shining plumage and honest eyes， soared southward to Byzantium;the swans established themselves there close by the Emperor's throne， and spread theirwings over him as shields to protect him. They received the name of Varangians.

　　On the coast of France there sounded a cry of fear， for the blood-stained swans that camefrom the North with fire under their wings; and the people prayed， “Heaven deliver us fromthe wild Northmen.”

　　On the fresh sward of England stood the Danish swan by the open seashore， with thecrown of three kingdoms on his head; and he stretched out his golden sceptre over the land.The heathens on the Pomerian coast bent the knee， and the Danish swans came with thebanner of the Cross and with the drawn sword.

　　“That was in the very old times，” you say.

　　In later days two mighty swans have been seen to fly from the nest. A light shone farthrough the air， far over the lands of the earth; the swan， with the strong beating of hiswings， scattered the twilight mists， and the starry sky was seen， and it was as if it camenearer to the earth. That was the swan Tycho Brahe.

　　“Yes， then，” you say; “but in our own days?”

　　We have seen swan after swan soar by in glorious flight. One let his pinions glide over thestrings of the golden harp， and it resounded through the North. Norway's mountains seemedto rise higher in the sunlight of former days; there was a rustling among the pine trees andthe birches; the gods of the North， the heroes， and the noble women， showed themselvesin the dark forest depths.

　　We have seen a swan beat with his wings upon the marble crag， so that it burst， andthe forms of beauty imprisoned in the stone stepped out to the sunny day， and men in thelands round about lifted up their heads to behold these mighty forms.

　　We have seen a third swan spinning the thread of thought that is fastened from country tocountry round the world， so that the word may fly with lightning speed from land to land.

　　And our Lord loves the old swan's nest between the Baltic and the North Sea. And whenthe mighty birds come soaring through the air to destroy it， even the callow young standround in a circle on the margin of the nest， and though their breasts may be struck so thattheir blood flows， they bear it， and strike with their wings and their claws.

　　Centuries will pass by， swans will fly forth from the nest， men will see them and hearthem in the world， before it shall be said in spirit and in truth， “This is the last swan—the lastsong from the swan's nest.”

　　在波羅的海和北海之間有一個(gè)古老的天鵝窠。它名叫丹麥。天鵝就是在它里面生出來的，過去和現(xiàn)在都是這樣。它們的名字永遠(yuǎn)不會(huì)被人遺忘。

　　在遠(yuǎn)古的時(shí)候，有一群天鵝飛過阿爾卑斯山，在“五月的國度”1里的綠色平原上落下來。住在這兒是非常幸福的。

　　這一群天鵝叫做“長鬍子人”2.另外一群長著發(fā)亮的羽毛和誠實(shí)的眼睛的天鵝，飛向南方，在拜占庭3落下來。它們在皇帝的座位周圍住下來，同時(shí)伸開它們的白色大翅膀，保護(hù)他的盾牌。這群天鵝叫做瓦1. 1指意大利倫巴底亞(Lombardia)省的首府米蘭(Milano)。林格人2原文是Longobarder，指住在意大利倫巴底亞省的倫巴底人(Lombardo)。

　　3這是東羅馬帝國的首都。

　　法國的海岸上升起一片驚恐的聲音，因?yàn)槭妊竦奶禊Z，拍著帶有火焰的翅膀，正在從北方飛來。人們祈禱著說：“愿上帝把我們從這些野蠻的北歐人手中救出來!”

　　一只丹麥的天鵝2站在英國碧綠的草原上，站在廣闊的海岸旁邊。他的頭上戴著代表三個(gè)王國的皇冠;他把他的王節(jié)伸向這個(gè)國家的土地上。

　　波美爾3海岸上的異教徒都在地上跪下來，因?yàn)榈湹奶禊Z，帶著繪有十字的旗幟和拔出的劍，向這兒飛來了。

　　那是很久很久以前的事情!你會(huì)這樣說。

　　不過離我們的時(shí)代不遠(yuǎn)，還有兩只強(qiáng)大的天鵝從窠里飛出來了。

　　一道光射過天空，射到世界的每個(gè)國土上。這只天鵝拍著他的強(qiáng)大的翅膀，撒下一層黃昏的煙霧。接著星空漸漸變得更清楚，好像是快要接近地面似的。這只天鵝的名字是透卻·布拉赫4.“是的，那是多少年以前的事情!”你可能說，“但是在我們的這個(gè)時(shí)代呢?”

　　1原文是Vaeringer，這是一種北歐人;他們在9世紀(jì)時(shí)是波羅的海上有名的海盜。東羅馬帝國的近衛(wèi)隊(duì)，就是由這些海盜組成的。

　　2指丹麥的克努得大帝(Knud，942-1036)。他征服了英國和挪威，做過這三個(gè)國家的皇帝。

　　3這是波羅的海的一個(gè)海灣。

　　4透卻·布拉赫(TychoBrahe，1546-1601)是丹麥的名天文學(xué)家。

　　在我們的這個(gè)時(shí)代里，我們曾看見過許多天鵝在美麗地飛翔：有一只1把他的翅膀輕輕地在金豎琴的弦上拂過去。這琴聲響遍了整個(gè)的北國：挪威的山似乎在古代的太陽光中增高了不少;松林和赤楊發(fā)出沙沙的回音;北國的神仙、英雄和貴婦人在深黑的林中偷偷地露出頭角。

　　我們看到一只天鵝在一個(gè)大理石山上拍著翅膀2，把這座山弄得崩裂了。被囚禁在這山中的美的形體，現(xiàn)在走到明朗的太陽光中來。世界各國的人抬起他們的頭來，觀看這些絕美的形體。

　　我們看到第三只天鵝3紡著思想的線。這線繞著地球從這個(gè)國家牽到那個(gè)國家，好使語言像閃電似的從這個(gè)國家傳到那個(gè)國家。

　　1指AdamGottlobOehlensehlaAgger，1779-1850，丹麥的名詩人。

　　2指BertelThorvaldsen，1768-1844，丹麥的名雕刻家。

　　3指奧爾斯德特(HansChristanOersted，1777-1851)丹麥的名電子學(xué)家。

　　我們的上帝喜歡這個(gè)位於波羅的海和北海之間的天鵝窠。讓那些強(qiáng)暴的鳥兒從空中飛來顛覆它吧。“永遠(yuǎn)不準(zhǔn)有這類事情發(fā)生!”甚至羽毛還沒有長全的小天鵝都會(huì)在這窠的邊緣守衛(wèi)——我們已經(jīng)看到過這樣的事情。他們可以讓他們的柔嫩的胸脯被啄得流血，但他們會(huì)用他們的嘴和爪斗爭下去。

　　許多世紀(jì)將會(huì)過去，但是天鵝將會(huì)不斷地從這個(gè)窠里飛出來。世界上的人將會(huì)看見他們，聽見他們。要等人們真正說“這是最后的一只天鵝，這是天鵝窠里發(fā)出的一個(gè)最后的歌聲”，那時(shí)間還早得很呢!

　　短篇安徒生童話故事英文版 By the Almshouse Window瓦爾都窗前的一瞥

　　NEAR the grass-covered rampart which encirclesCopenhagen lies a GREat red house. Balsams andother flowers greet us from the long rows ofwindows in the house， whose interior is sufficientlypoverty-stricken; and poor and old are the peoplewho inhabit it. The building is the WartonAlmshouse.

　　Look! at the window there leans an old maid.She plucks the withered leaf from the balsam， and looks at the grass-covered rampart， onwhich many children are playing. What is the old maid thinking of? A whole life drama isunfolding itself before her inward gaze.

　　“the poor little children， how happy they are—how merrily they play and romp together!What red cheeks and what angels' eyes! but they have no shoes nor stockings. They dance onthe GREen rampart， just on the place where， according to the old story， the ground alwayssank in， and where a sportive， frolicsome child had been lured by means of flowers， toys andsweetmeats into an open grave ready dug for it， and which was afterwards closed over thechild; and from that moment， the old story says， the ground gave way no longer， themound remained firm and fast， and was quickly covered with the green turf. The little peoplewho now play on that spot know nothing of the old tale， else would they fancy they heard achild crying deep below the earth， and the dewdrops on each blade of grass would be to themtears of woe. Nor do they know anything of the Danish King who here， in the face of thecoming foe， took an oath before all his trembling courtiers that he would hold out with thecitizens of his capital， and die here in his nest; they know nothing of the men who havefought here， or of the women who from here have drenched with boiling water the enemy，clad in white， and 'biding in the snow to surprise the city.

　　“No! the poor little ones are playing with light， childish spirits. Play on， play on， thoulittle maiden! Soon the years will come—yes， those glorious years. The priestly hands havebeen laid on the candidates for confirmation; hand in hand they walk on the GREen rampart.Thou hast a white frock on; it has cost thy mother much labor， and yet it is only cut down forthee out of an old larger dress! You will also wear a red shawl; and what if it hang too fardown? People will only see how large， how very large it is. You are thinking of your dress，and of the Giver of all good—so glorious is it to wander on the green rampart!

　　“And the years roll by; they have no lack of dark days， but you have your cheerfulyoung spirit， and you have gained a friend—you know not how. You met， oh， how often!You walk together on the rampart in the fresh spring， on the high days and holidays， whenall the world come out to walk upon the ramparts， and all the bells of the church steeples seemto be singing a song of praise for the coming spring.

　　“Scarcely have the violets come forth， but there on the rampart， just opposite thebeautiful Castle of Rosenberg， there is a tree bright with the first GREen buds. Every year thistree sends forth fresh green shoots. Alas! It is not so with the human heart! Dark mists，more in number than those that cover the northern skies， cloud the human heart. Poor child!thy friend's bridal chamber is a black coffin， and thou becomest an old maid. From thealmshouse window， behind the balsams， thou shalt look on the merry children at play， andshalt see thine own history renewed.”

　　And that is the life drama that passes before the old maid while she looks out upon therampart， the GREen， sunny rampart， where the children， with their red cheeks and bareshoeless feet， are rejoicing merrily， like the other free little birds.

　　(瓦爾都(Vartou)是哥本哈根的一個(gè)收留孤寡人的養(yǎng)老院，建筑於1700年。)

　　面對著圍著哥本哈根的、生滿了綠草的城堡，是一幢高大的紅房子。它的窗子很多，窗子上種著許多鳳仙花和青蒿一類的植物。房子內(nèi)部是一副窮相;里邊住的也全是一些窮苦的老人。這就是“瓦爾都養(yǎng)老院”。

　　看吧!一位老小姐倚著窗檻站著，她摘下鳳仙花的一起枯葉，同時(shí)望著城堡上的綠草。許多小孩子就在那上面玩耍。這位老小姐有甚么感想呢?這時(shí)一出人生的戲劇就在她的心里展開了。“這些貧苦的孩子們，他們玩得多么快樂啊!多么紅潤的小臉蛋!多么幸福的眼睛!但是他們沒有鞋子，也沒有襪子穿。他們在這青翠的城堡上跳舞。根據(jù)一個(gè)古老的傳說，多少年以前，這兒的土老是在崩塌，直到一個(gè)天真的小寶寶，帶著她的花兒和玩具被誘到這個(gè)敞著的墳?zāi)估锶ゲ磐Ｖ?當(dāng)她正在玩和吃著東西的時(shí)候，城堡就筑起來了(註：丹麥詩人蒂勒(J.M.Thiele)編的《丹麥民間傳說》(Danske?Eolkesagn)中有這樣一段記載：”很久很久以前，人們在哥本哈根周圍建立了一個(gè)城堡。城堡一直在不停地崩頹，后來簡直無法使它鞏固下來，最后大家把一個(gè)天真的女孩子放在一張椅子上，在她面前放一個(gè)桌子，上面擺著許多玩具和糖果。當(dāng)她正在玩耍的時(shí)候，12個(gè)石匠在她上面建起一座拱門。大家在音樂和喊聲中把土堆到這拱門上，筑起一個(gè)城堡，從此以后城堡再也不崩塌了。“)。從那一忽兒起，這座城堡就一直是堅(jiān)固的;很快它上面就蓋滿了美麗的綠草。小孩子們一點(diǎn)也不知道這個(gè)故事，否則他們就會(huì)聽到那個(gè)孩子還在地底下哭，就會(huì)覺得草上的露珠是熱烘烘的眼淚。他們也不知道那個(gè)丹麥國王的故事：當(dāng)敵人在外邊圍城的時(shí)候，他騎著馬走過這兒，作了一個(gè)誓言，說他要死在他的崗位上(註：指丹麥國王佛列得里克三世(?ErederickⅡ，1609-1670)。這兒是指1659年2月11日，瑞典軍隊(duì)圍攻哥本哈根，但沒有奪下該城。)。

　　那時(shí)許多男人和女人齊集攏來，對那些穿著白衣服，在雪地里爬城的敵人潑下滾燙的開水。”這些貧窮的孩子玩得非?？鞓贰?ldquo;玩吧，你這位小小的姑娘!歲月不久就要到來——是的，那些幸福的歲月：那些準(zhǔn)備去受堅(jiān)信禮的青年男女手挽著手漫步著。你穿著一件白色的長衣——這對你的媽媽說來真是費(fèi)了不少的氣力，雖然它是一件寬大的舊衣服改出來的。你還披著一條紅披肩;它拖得太長了，所以人們一看就知道它是太寬大，太寬大了!你在想著你的打扮，想著善良的上帝。在城堡上漫步是多么痛快啊!”歲月帶著許多陰暗的日子——但也帶著青春的心情——走過去了。你有了一個(gè)男朋友，你不知道是怎樣認(rèn)識(shí)他的。你們常常會(huì)面。你們在早春的日子里到城堡上去散步，那時(shí)教堂的鐘為偉大的祈禱日發(fā)出悠揚(yáng)的聲音。紫羅蘭花還沒有開，但是羅森堡宮外有一株樹已經(jīng)發(fā)出新的綠芽。你們就在這兒停下步來。這株樹每年生出綠枝，心在人類的胸中可不是這樣!一層層陰暗的云塊在它上面浮過去，比在北國上空所見到的還要多。“可憐的孩子，你的未婚夫的新房變成了一具棺材，而你自己也變成了一個(gè)老小姐。在瓦爾都，你從鳳仙花的后面看見了這些玩耍著的孩子，也看見了你一生的歷史的重演。”

　　這就是當(dāng)這位老小姐望著城堡的時(shí)候，在她眼前所展開的一出人生的戲劇。太陽光在城堡上照著，紅臉蛋的、沒有襪子和鞋子穿的孩子們像天空的飛鳥一樣，在那上面發(fā)出歡樂的叫聲。