Ambrosius Stub (1705-58): 'Den kiedsom Vinter gik sin gang'

The first time I heard the name Ambrosius Stub was in connection with the famous oak tree called after him which I was taken to see when in my first year I was invited down to south Funen and shown Valdemar Castle on Tåsinge, the island south of Funen.  Since I can look out across the sound to Tåsinge from where I am sitting, I feel a poem by Ambrosius is very much in place. Here is perhaps his most famous one:

The tiresome winter now is gone

                      Aria

       The tiresome winter now is gone

       The day so short, the night so long

              At gentle pace

              Do change their face,

Now must dark clouds and winds that bite – take flight;

       The fireplace stands alone, unstacked,

       And each day’s cold by shakes is racked;

       The fleece-lined coat and doublet warm

       Are hung away and held to scorn,

The muff is likewise out of kind – and mind;

       One fears no more that snow and sleet

       On going out one then will meet;

              So let us rise

              And now apprize

How sweetly nature does beguile – and smile.

       Oh see, how richly dressed the sun

       With gold-tressed hair its course does run

              Its ring of fire

              Can but inspire

All things that now accrue – anew;

       The blue sky up above so clear

       Is worth a gaze, both far and near;

       See all the birds in mighty squalls,

       That fill the air’s wide summer halls,

Their joy they constantly prolong – in song;

       They daily two by two compete

       To make their nesting-place complete,

              Look, past one streaks

              With twig in beak,

Another culls small hairs and straws – then soars.

       Oh see! the fields are looking well

       The farmer, though the whole world’s thrall,

              Now smiles to see

              His slavery

Will end in their increase – in peace,

       The lambs at random play and leap,

       And frolic mongst the meadow’s sheep,

       They kneel with joyful heart at rest

       And suckle at their mother’s breast,

By every single drop refreshed – afresh.

       The shepherd there guards flock and corn;

       A dog’s sharp bark, a call of horn,

              Are all his art,

              Though all in part;

How sweetly do the woods reply – nearby.

       Oh see, a sight most passing fair

       At wood’s green eyelids over there

              Each tall tree crest

              Is being dressed,

And spring decks out the beech with pride – as bride.

       So when the sun burns like a torch,

       And breast and lap does almost scorch,

       Behind each leaf is refuge found

       When weary heads seek sheltered ground.

Here tea refreshes, as does wine – from Rhine,

       And meanwhile one may gaze intent

       At what is nature’s parliament,

              The birds rejoice

              With well-tuned voice,

The agile beasts will nimbly dance – and prance.

       Oh see, how mirror-smooth and clear

       The lake is fashioned over here,

              It almost seems

              The sun most dreams

Of gazing at its visage fair – down there,

       The fish once caught in filth and mire

       That frost and net could not acquire,

       Now feels the urge to live and breed

       And freely sports midst rush and reed,

See here, how proudly fins now flash – and splash.

       The frog now croaks its serenade

       When drowsy day begins to fade,

              With blade of grass

              I watch time pass

And end my walk that took so long – in song.

       So do the water, sky and earth

       By my Creator gain rebirth,

              I roamed among

              World’s mighty throng,

Through all God’s providence did run ­– each one.

       Oh troubled soul! Will you just look

       And see all things are in His book,

       Whate’er befalls, I know full well

       That I among them all may dwell,

God is still mindful of my need – indeed,

       He’s sure to find the perfect time 

       When heaven’s bells will peal and chime;

              It could just be

              I too may see

My winter will as spring appear – this year.