Johannes Ewald

Johannes Ewald Poems

Johannes Ewald Biography

Johannes Ewald (18 November 1743 – 17 March 1781) was a Danish national dramatist and poet. Ewald, normally regarded as the most important Danish poet of the 2nd half of the 18th Century, led a short and troubled life, marked by alcoholism and poor health. The son of a Copenhagen pietist vicar and fatherless from an early age, he was educated as a theologian, but his real interest was in literature. An unhappy love for a girl, Arendse, inspired his later poetry deeply (his description of this love is the first “modern” Danish poetic treatment of the subject). After a time as a soldier and war hero in the Prussian Seven Years’ War he was 1760 brought back seriously weakened. The following years were spent living as a bohemian and writing poetry in Copenhagen; they were also a time of alcoholism and conflicts with his mother and stepfather (for most of his life he was under their tutelage and he never took up a profession). His lifestyle had much in common with his contemporary Johan Herman Wessel, but, as writers they differed greatly. From 1773-75 he had a rather happy convalescence at Rungstedlund (later the home of Karen Blixen). Ewald wrote some of his best verses during this time, but a conflict with his family led to his removal to the small North Zealand town of Humlebæk (1775-77), which depressed him and worsened his alcoholism. Finally, friends brought him to Søbækshus, near Helsingør, and where he lived for some years under growing public interest and literary fame, until his early death, caused by drinking and rheumatism. Quite until the days of romanticism Ewald was considered the unsurpassed Danish poet. Today he is probably more lauded than read; though considered classics, only few of his works have become popular. As an author Ewald is a prominent representative of Danish sentimentalism but at the same time a forerunner of romanticism. His main inspiration was German poetry (Klopstock), but British writers like Edward Young and Sterne, as well as Rousseau, are obvious inspirations as well. Violent expressions of feeling (happiness, sorrow and love) are typical in his writing; these elements are apparently spontaneous but, at the same time, deliberately and artificially drawn up. Behind this a clear pietist tune is felt. Several Ewald poems are Danish classics. He had his break-through with a melodious and expressive commemorative poem at the death of King Frederick V (1766). The famous Rungsteds Lyksaligheder (1773 - "The Happiness of Rungsted") is an ode to the Creator. (Rungsted is a city on Sjælland) Ode til Sjælen (“For the Soul”) is a worthy hailing of Man’s uniqueness. Til min M*** (“For my M(oltke)) is a grateful praise for a noble benefactor, during the unhappy Humlebæk period. The hymn Udrust Dig, helt fra Golgatha (“Arm Yourself, Hero of Golgatha”, 1781), practically written on his death-bed, must be mentioned. Minor humorous verses and satires are less known today. Just as important are Ewald's dramas. Ewald was the first to rely heavily on Norse mythology, a trend which begins to point towards romanticism. He wrote the plays Rolf Krage in 1770, Balders Død (Eng. transl. "The Death of Balder", 1889) in 1773, and Fiskerne (The Fishermen) in 1779. From the latter play one song is still remembered by most Danes: King Christian stood by the lofty mast that shares the position of being the national anthem of Denmark (the other is Oehlenschläger's "There is a lovely Land"). Ewald's main prose work was the unfinished autobiography Levnet og Meninger (“Life and Opinions”, written 1774-78, published 1804-08).)

The Best Poem Of Johannes Ewald

Aftenen

Indsvøbt i al sin Skræk og vred, og vild,
Nedbruser han fra Bjergene — O flye,
Du Roesens og de spæde Liliers Ven! —
O skjærts ey meer saa tryg med Søelunds Høy! —
Din Fiende kommer! — Flye du gyldne Soel! —
Fra Helsinge — fra Østens nøgne Fjeld
Nedbruser han — hans Aandedræt er Storm —
Og huul og sørgelig, som Bølgens Lyd,
Der tørner mod en ensom Klippes Fod;
Er Lyden af hans Komme — Glædens Spor —
Hvert yndigt Malerie af Grønt og Guld —
Hver Gnist af Skovens skummende Christal —
Hvert flygtigt Glimt af Bølgens sølvblaae Ryg,
Har alt hans store Skygge sletted ud! —
Bag ved den Morder er Naturen død! —
O flye du Glædens Ven! — o skjærts dog ey
Saalænge med Sophies gyldne Spiir! —
Forlænge kysser du hver enkelt Busk,
Hver vestlig Høy, hvormed du drevst din Skjærts! —
De rødme ved dit kjælne Afskeeds-Kys! —
Snart skal de blegne! — som den stolte Møe,
Hvis Hjerte Helte kun tør trettes om —
Hvi sidder hun, saa ensom i sin Port —
Saa tankefuld? — Hvi løfter hun saa tit,
De store Øyne; dem, som Dyd, og Mod,
Og Viisdom, og endnu jeg veed ey hvad,
Saa yndigt blandes i — Hvi løfter hun
Dem smagtende saa tit mod Bjergets Vey? —
Hun venter ham — sit Hjertes skjulte Haab —
Sin stille Tankes Ven — den unge Helt —
Hun skildrer ham sig seyerrig — beladt
Med Jetters Rov — og alt tillaver hun
Et meer end venligt Smiil; og Helte Sang —
Og paa sit Skjød udbreder Kampens Møe,
Det bunte, det med Guld isprængte Skjærf,
Som hun har virked til sit Hjertes Helt —
Nu kommer han — han kommer! --- ha, han flyer! --
Nu blusser hendes Kind — Hun skjuler vred
Det Guldisprengte Skjærf — Men ak hun seer
Den sorte Jette, som forfølger ham
Med høyt opløftet Sværd — Nu zittrer hun —
Nu svømmer hun i Graad — Hun blegner — Flye
Guuldhaarede, før Jetten knuser dig! —
Saa rødme Leyre Høye ved din Flugt —
Og vrede skjule de der' gyldne Pragt,
Som hver for sig udbredte dig til Lyst;
Du bunte Høyes Elsker! — Men de see
Din sorte Fiende — Skrækkelig og vild
Forfølger han der' Ven i lange Skrit —
Da zittre de — da svømme de i Dug —
Snart skal de blegne! — Flye du elskte Soel,
Før Jetten naaer dig! — Guul er Jettens Hjelm,
Som Dødens Farve — Fra dens høye Kam
Nedsvæver Busken, smudsig rød og bleg,
I tynde Streifer af hans brede Ryg! —
Sort er hans Skjold, som Sorgen — Som det Floer,
Bag hvilket Enken græder — Skrækkeligt,
Som Almagts Sløer, hvormed den skjuler sig,
Naar den i Harm tillaver Dødens Ild —
Et ildrødt Meteor, er Jettens Sværd —
O see det lyne bag hans Hjelm! — og flye,
Du milde Kjæmper med de gyldne Haar! —
Ewald.

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