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 Cornell University Library 
 PT 8814.A3P17 
 
 Poems and songs, 
 
 3 1924 026 306 088 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026306088 
 
This series of Scandinavian Classics is published 
 by The American Scandinavian Foundation in the 
 belief that greater familiarity with the chief literary 
 monuments of the North will help Americans to a 
 better understanding of Scandinavians, and thus serve 
 to stimulate their sympathetic cooperation to good ends 
 
SCANDINAVIAN CLASSICS 
 VOLUME III 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 BY 
 
 BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 
 
ESTABLISHED BY 
 NIELS POULSON 
 
POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 BY 
 BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 
 
 A — 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE NORWEGIAN 
 
 IN THE ORIGINAL METERS 
 
 BY 
 
 ARTHUR HUBBELL PALMER 
 
 Professor of the German Language and Literature 
 
 in Tale University 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE AMERICAN-SCANDINAVIAN FOUNDATION 
 
 LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD 
 
 OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 
 
 I915 
 
Qopyright, ipi^, by The zAmerican Scandinavian Foundation 
 
 
 T). S. Updike ■ The ^Merrymount Tress ■ "Boston ■ U. S.<^. 
 
 Ji 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 poems and songs 
 
 synnove's song 3 
 
 the hare and the fox 4 
 
 nils finn s 
 
 THE maidens' song 7 
 
 THE DOVE 7 
 
 THE mother's song 8 
 
 LAMBKIN MINE 8 
 
 BALLAD OF TAILOR NILS 9 
 
 VENEVIL lO 
 
 OVER THE LOFTY MOUNTAINS 12 
 
 THE DAY OF SUNSHINE I4 
 
 INGERID SLETTEN I 6 
 
 THE TREE I 7 
 
 THE MELODY 18 
 
 OUR COUNTRY I9 
 
 SONG FOR NORWAY 21 
 
 THE CALL 23 
 
 EVENING 24 
 
 MARIT's SONG 25 
 
 LOVE THY NEIGHBOR 26 
 
 OYVIND's SONG z6 
 
vi CONTENTS 
 
 LOVE SONG 27 
 
 MOUNTAIN SONG 29 
 
 ANSWER FROM NORWAY 30 
 
 JOHAN LUDVIG HEIBERG 33 
 
 THE OCEAN 36 
 
 ALONE AND REPENTANT 39 
 
 THE PRINCESS 39 
 
 FROM MONTE PINCIO 40 
 
 IF ONLY YOU KNEW IT 42 
 
 THE ANGELS OF SLEEP 43 
 
 THE MAIDEN ON THE SHORE 44 
 
 SECRET LOVE 45 
 
 OLAF TRYGVASON 45 
 
 A SIGH 46 
 
 to a godson 48 
 
 bergliot 48 
 
 to my wife 56 
 
 in a heavy hour 56 
 
 kaare's song 57 
 
 IVAR INGEMUNDSOn's LAY 58 
 
 MAGNUS THE BLIND 62 
 
 SIN, DEATH 63 
 
 FRIDA 63 
 
 BERGEN 65 
 
 P. A. MUNCH 66 
 
CONTENTS vii 
 
 king frederik the seventh 75 
 
 to sweden 78 
 
 our forefathers 80 
 
 when norway would not help 8 i 
 
 daniel schjotz 83 
 
 to the dannebrog 84 
 
 toast for the men of eidsvold 85 
 
 the norrona-race 85 
 
 hymn of the puritans 87 
 
 hunting song 88 
 
 Taylor's song 89 
 
 lector thaasen 90 
 
 during a journey in sweden 9i 
 
 the tryst 93 
 
 song for the students* glee club 94 
 
 mrs. louise brun 96 
 
 to johan dahl, bookdealer (03 
 
 to sculptor borch i05 
 
 the spinner i07 
 
 the white rose and the red rose i08 
 
 YOUTH 109 
 
 THE BLONDE MAIDEN HO 
 
 THE FIRST MEETING 1 1 1 
 
 GOOD-MORNING I I I 
 
 MY FATHERLAND 112 
 
iii CONTENTS 
 
 CHOICE 1 1 3 
 NORWEGIAN seamen's SONG II4 
 HALFDAN KJERULF I16 
 NORWEGIAN STUDENTS* GREETING WITH A PRO- 
 CESSION TO PROFESSOR WELHAVEN 1 1 7 
 FOR A CHARITY FAIR 1 19 
 FORWARD I I 9 
 THE MEETING IZO 
 NORSE NATURE IZI 
 I PASSED BY THE HOUSE IZ4 
 THOSE WITH ME I 25 
 TO MY FATHER Iz8 
 TO ERIKA LIE I30 
 AT MICHAEL SARS'S GRAVE I32 
 TO JOHAN SVERDRUP I 33 
 THE CHILD IN OUR SOUL I 39 
 OLE GABRIEL UELAND I4I 
 ANTON MARTIN SCHWEIGAARD I43 
 TO AASMUND OLAFSEN VINJE 1 44 
 GOOD CHEER I46 
 OLD HELTBERG 1 50 
 FOR THE WOUNDED I 55 
 LANDFALL 1 56 
 TO HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN I 57 
 TO STANG 158 
 
CONTENTS ix 
 
 ON A wife's death i6z 
 
 AT THE BIER OF PRECENTOR A. REITAN 1 63 
 
 SONG 165 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF N. F. S. GRUNDTVIG 1 66 
 
 FROM THE CANTATA FOR N. F. S. GRUNDTVIG I 67 
 AT A BANQUET FOR PROFESSOR LUDV. KR. DAA 1 68 
 
 OH, WHEN WILL YOU STAND FORTH? I/O 
 
 AT hansteen's bier 17^ 
 
 RALLYING SONG FOR FREEDOM IN THE NORTH 173 
 
 AT A BANQUET 174 
 
 OPEN WATER 1 76 
 
 SONG OF FREEDOM 177 
 
 TO MOLDE 178 
 
 PER BO 180 
 
 HAMAR-MADE MATCHES 181 
 
 THEY HAVE FOUND EACH OTHER I 84 
 
 THE PURE NORWEGIAN FLAG 1 85 
 
 TO MISSIONARY SKREFSRUD IN SANTALISTAN 1 90 
 
 POST FESTUM I9I 
 
 ROMSDAL I 92 
 
 HOLGER DRACHMANN 1 98 
 
 A MEETING ZOO 
 
 THE POET 201 
 
 PSALMS 204 
 
 QUESTION AND ANSWER 209 
 
X CONTENTS 
 
 SONG FOR Norway's riflemen 210 
 
 workmen's MARCH 211 
 
 THE LAND THAT SHALL BE 212 
 YOUNG MEN AND WOMEN, STRONG AND SOUND ZI3 
 
 NORWAY, NORWAY ! 2 I 4 
 
 MASTER OR SLAVE 2 I J 
 
 IN THE FOREST 2l6 
 
 WHEN COMES THE MORNING? 2l6 
 
 MAY SEVENTEENTH 2l8 
 
 FREDERIK HEGEL 219 
 
 OUR LANGUAGE ■ 221 
 
 NOTES / 225 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 BJORNSON AS A LYRIC POET 
 
 I LIVED far more than e'er I sang; 
 Thought, ire, and mirth imceasing rang 
 
 Around me, where I guested; 
 To be where loud life's battles call 
 For me was well-nigh more than all 
 
 My pen on page arrested. 
 
 What 's true and strong has growing-room. 
 And will perhaps eternal bloom. 
 
 Without black ink's salvation. 
 And he will be, who least it planned. 
 But in life's surging dared to stand. 
 
 The best bard for his nation. 
 
 A life seventy-seven years long and but two hundred pages 
 of lyrical production, more than half of which was written 
 in about a dozen years ! The seeming disproportion is ex- 
 plained by the lines just quoted from the poem Good Cheer, 
 with which Bjornson concluded the first edition of his 
 Poems and Songs. Alongside of these stanzas, in which the 
 cause of his popularity and powerful influence is also un- 
 consciously revealed, may well be placed the following one 
 from The Poet, which discloses to us the larger conception 
 of the mission that Bjornson himself in all his work and 
 life, no less than in his lyrics, so finely fulfilled: 
 
xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 The poet does the prophet's deeds; 
 In times of need with new life pregnant. 
 When strife and suffering are regnant. 
 His faith with light ideal leads. 
 The past its heroes round him posts. 
 He rallies now the present's hosts. 
 
 The fiiture opes 
 
 Before his eyes, 
 
 Its pictured hopes 
 
 He prophesies. 
 Ever his people's forces vernal 
 The poet frees, — by right eternal. 
 
 "The best bard for his nation" is he who "does the pro- 
 phet's deeds," who "rallies now the present's hosts," and 
 "frees, — by right eternal." Poet and prophet Bjornson 
 was, but more than all else the leader of the Norwegian 
 people, "where loud life's battles call," through conflict 
 unto liberation and growth. It has been said that twice in 
 the nineteenth century the national soul of Norway em- 
 bodied itself in individual men, — during the first half in 
 Henrik Wergeland and during the second half in Bjorn- 
 stjerne Bjornson. True as this is of the former, it is still 
 more true of the latter, for the history of Norway shows 
 that the soul of its people expresses itself best through will 
 and action. Bjornson throughout all his life willed and 
 wrought so much for his country, that he could give rela- 
 tively little time and power to lyrical self-expression. 
 
 But Bjornson strikingly represented the past of Norway 
 as well as his contemporary age. He was a modern blending 
 of the heroic chieftain and the gifted skald of ancient times. 
 
INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 He was the first leader of his country in a period when the 
 battles of the spirit on the fields of politics and economics, 
 ethics, and esthetics were the only form of conflict, — 
 a leader evoking, developing, and guiding the powers of 
 his nation into fuller and higher life. In his many-sided- 
 ness Bjornson was also in his time the first skald of his 
 people, almost equally endowed with genius as a narra- 
 tive, a dramatic, and a lyric poet; with talents scarcely less 
 remarkable as an orator, a theater-director, a journalistic 
 tribune of the people (his newspaper articles amounted, 
 roughly estimated, to ten thousand book-pages), a letter- 
 writer, and a conversationalist. 
 
 If, furthermore, we take into account also Bjornson's 
 labors and achievements in the domain of action more nar- 
 rowly considered, it is no wonder that his Poems and Songs 
 make only a small volume. Examining the book more 
 closely, we find that three-quarters of its pages were writ- 
 ten before the year 1875, so that the lyrical output, here 
 published, of the thirty-four years thereafter amounts to 
 but fifty pages. From the year 1874 on in Bjornson's life 
 the chieftain supplanted the skald, so far as lyrical utter- 
 ance was concerned. He was leading his nation in thought 
 and action on the fields of theology and religion, of politics, 
 economics, and social reform; he was tireless in making 
 speeches, in writing letters and newspaper articles ; his 
 poetic genius flowed out copiously in the dramatic and epic 
 channels of his numerous modern plays, novels, and stories. 
 
 That soon after 1874 Bjornson passed through a crisis 
 in his personal thought and inner life was probably, in view 
 
xiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 of the sufficient explanation suggested above, without in- 
 fluence in lessening his production of short poems. This 
 crisis was in his religious beliefs. His father was a clergy- 
 man in the Lutheran State Church, and from his home in 
 western Norway Bjornson brought with him to Christiania 
 in 1850 fervent Christian faith of the older orthodox sort. 
 Here his somewhat somber religion was soon made brighter 
 and more tender by the adoption of Grundtvig's teachings, 
 and until past mid-life he remained a sincere Christian in 
 the fullest sense, as is repeatedly shown in his lyrics. But 
 in the years just before 1877 study of modern science and 
 philosophy, of the history of the Church and dogma, led 
 him to become an evolutionist, an agnostic theist. Never- 
 theless, he ever practiced the Christian art of life, as he 
 tried to realize his ideals of truth, justice, and love of 
 humanity. This large and simple Christian art of life, in 
 distinction from the dogmas of the Church, he early sung 
 in lines which sound no less true to the keynote of his later 
 years : 
 
 Love thy neighbor, to Christ be leal! 
 
 Crush him never with iron-heel. 
 Though in the dust he's lying! 
 
 All the living responsive await 
 
 Love with power to recreate. 
 Needing alone the trying. 
 
 II 
 The quantity, then, of Bjornson's short poems is small. 
 Their intrinsic worth is great. Their influence in Nor- 
 way has been broad and deep, they are known and loved 
 
INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 by all. If lyrical means only melodious, "singable," they 
 possess high poetic value and distinction. In a unique de- 
 gree they have inspired composers of music to pour out 
 their strains. When a Scandinavian reads Bjornson's poems, 
 his ears ring with the familiar melodies into which they 
 have almost sung themselves. 
 
 Here is not the place for technical analysis of the ex- 
 ternal poetic forms. A cursory inspection will show that 
 Bjornson's are wonderfully varied, and that the same form 
 is seldom, if ever, precisely duplicated. In rhythm and 
 alliteration, rhyme sequence and the grouping of lines 
 into stanzas, the form in each case seems to be determined 
 by the content, naturally, spontaneously. Yet for one 
 who has intimately studied these verses until his mind 
 and heart vibrate responsively, the words of all have an 
 indefinable melody of their own, as it were, one domi- 
 nant melody, distinctly Bjornsonian. This unity in variety, 
 spontaneous and characteristic, is not found in the earlier 
 poems not included in this volume. So far as is known, 
 Bjornson's first printed poem appeared in a newspaper in 
 1852. It and other youthful rhymes of that time extant 
 in manuscript, and still others as late as 1 854, are interest- 
 ing by reason of their contrast with his later manner; the 
 verse-form has nothing personal, the melodies are those of 
 older poets. It is in the lyrics of Synnove Solbakken, written 
 in 1857 °^ j"^' before, that Bjornson for the first time 
 sings in his own forms his own melody. 
 
 Style and diction are the determining factors in the 
 poetic form of lyric verse, along with the perhaps indis- 
 
xvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 tinguishable and indefinable quality of melodiousness. Of 
 Bjornson's style or manner in the larger sense it must be 
 said that it is not subjectively lyrical. He is not disposed 
 to introspective dwelling on his own emotions and to 
 profuse self-expression without a conscious purpose. In 
 general he must have some definite objective end in view, 
 some occasion to celebrate for others, some "cause" to 
 champion, the mood of another person or of other per- 
 sons, real or fictitious, to reproduce synthetically in a 
 combination of thoughts, feelings, similes, and sounds. In 
 his verses words do not breed words, nor figures beget 
 figures unto lyric breadth and vagueness. When Bjornson 
 was moved to make a poem, he was so filled with the end, 
 the occasion, the cause, the mood to be reproduced, that 
 he was impatient of any but the most significant words and 
 left much to suggestion. Often the words seem to be in 
 one another's way, and they are not related with gram- 
 matical precision. Thus in the original more than in the 
 translation of the poem Norway, Norway ! the first strophe 
 of which is: 
 
 Norway, Norway, 
 
 Rising in blue from the sea's gray and green. 
 
 Islands around like fledglings tender. 
 
 Fjord-tongues with slender 
 
 Tapering tips in the silence seen. 
 Rivers, valleys. 
 
 Mate among mountains, wood-ridge and slope 
 
 Wandering follow. Where the wastes lighten. 
 
 Lake and plain brighten. 
 
 Hallow a temple of peace and hope. 
 
INTRODUCTION xvii 
 
 Norway, Norway, 
 Houses and huts, not castles grand. 
 Gentle or hard. 
 
 Thee we guard, thee we guard. 
 Thee, our future's fair land. 
 
 Such abrupt brevity of expression, not uncommon among 
 Norwegian peasants, was no doubt natural to Bjornson, 
 but was confirmed by the influence of the Old Norse sagas 
 and skaldic poetry. The latter may also have increased his 
 use of alliteration, masterly not only in the direct imita- 
 tion of the old form, as in Bergliot, but also in the enrich- 
 ment of the music of his rhymed verse in modern forms. 
 Conciseness of style in thought and word permitted no 
 lyrical elaboration of figures or descriptions; it restricted 
 the poet to brief hints of the ways his spirit would go, and 
 along which he wished to guide that of the hearer or reader. 
 Herein is the source of much of the power of Bjornson's 
 patriotic songs and poems of public agitation. Those who 
 read or hear or sing them are made to think, or at least 
 to feel, the unwritten poetry between the lines. Scarcely 
 less notable is this paucity in the expression of wealth of 
 thought and feeling in the memorial and other more indi- 
 vidual poems. 
 
 Bjornson's diction corresponds to the quality of style 
 thus briefly 'characterized. The modern Norwegian lan- 
 guage has no considerable, highly developed special vocab- 
 ulary for poetic use. From the diction of prose the poet 
 must quarry and carve the verbal material for his verse. 
 It sometimes seems, indeed, as if it were hard for Bjornson 
 
xviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 to find the right block and fit it, nicely cut, into his line. 
 In describing his diction critics have used the figures of 
 hewing and of hammer-strokes, but then have said that it 
 is not so much laborious effort we hear as the natural fall- 
 ing into place of words heavy with thought and feeling. 
 Here it is that translation must so often come short of 
 faithful reproduction. The choice of words in relation to 
 rhythm and euphony is a mystery diiBcult to interpret even 
 in the poet's own language. If we try to analyze the verse 
 of great poets, we frequently find, beyond what is evidently 
 the product of conscious design, effects of suggestion and 
 sound which could not be calculated and designed. The 
 verbal material seems hardly to be amenable to the poet's 
 control, but rather to be chosen, shaped, and placed invol- 
 untarily by the thought and the mood. The Ocean is a good 
 example of the distinctive power and beauty of Bjornson's 
 diction. 
 
 Such, then, in melody, rhythm, style, and diction is the 
 form of Bjornson's verse : compact, reticent, suggestive, 
 without elaborate verbal ornamentation, strong with " the 
 long-vibratingpowerof the deeply felt,but half-expressed." 
 It challenges and stimulates the soul of the hearer or reader 
 to an intense activity of appropriation, which brings a fine 
 reward. 
 
 Ill 
 What, now, is the content that finds expression in this 
 form ? As we turn the pages from the beginning, we first 
 meet lyrics that may be called personal, not utterances of 
 Bjornson's individual self, but taken from his early tales 
 
INTRODUCTION xix 
 
 and the drama Halte Hulda, with strains of love, of reli- 
 gious faith, of dread of nature, and of joy in it, of youth- 
 ful longing; then after two patriotic choral songs and 
 a second group of similar personal poems from A Happy 
 Boy follow one on a patriotic subject with historical allu- 
 sions, a meniorial poem on J. L. Heiberg, and one descrip- 
 tive, indeed, of the ocean, but filled with the human feel- 
 ings and longings it arouses; then come a lyric personal 
 to Bjornson, and one that is not. As we progress, we pass 
 through a similar succession of descriptive, personal, or 
 memorial poems, some of religious faith, historical bal- 
 lads, lyrical romances, patriotic and festival choral songs, 
 poems in celebration of individual men and women, living 
 or dead, and towards the end poems, like the Psalms, of 
 deep philosophic thought suffused with emotion. 
 
 Now these subjects may be gathered into a small num- 
 ber of groups : love, religious faith and thought, moods per- 
 sonal to the poet, patriotism, — love of country, striving 
 for its welfare, pride in Norway's history, and joy in the 
 beauty and grandeur of its scenery. The occasional songs 
 and poems in celebration of great personalities, — whether 
 they were of high station and renown, or lowly and un- 
 famed, — or for festivals, earnest or jovial, are nearly all 
 conceived in the spirit of patriotism, — love of Norway, 
 its historic past, its present, its future. They may be social 
 songs, memorial or political poems, ballads or lyrical ro- 
 mances, — all are inspired by and inspire love of country. 
 
 Not very many of Bjornson's lyrics have love as their 
 subject. From his tales, novels, and dramas we know that 
 
XX INTRODUCTION 
 
 his understanding of love was comprehensive and subtle, 
 yet this volume contains but few of the love-lyrics of 
 strong emotion, which Bjornson must have felt, if not 
 written. He was a man of will and action with altruistic 
 ideals ; sexual love could not be the whole nor the center 
 of life for him. 
 
 Nor are the purely religious poems numerous, although 
 Christian faith is at once the ground and the atmosphere 
 of his lyrics in the earlier period, and some of the latest 
 are expressions of a broad and deep philosophy of life. 
 "Love thy neighbor!" and "Light, Love, Life" in deeds 
 were characteristic of Bjornson, rather than the utterance 
 of passive meditations of a theoretic nature on God and 
 man's relation to Him. 
 
 Bjornson's unfailing bent towards activity in behalf of 
 others could not favor either the lyric outpouring of other 
 purely personal moods. Such purely personal poems are 
 then also relatively rare. Some of them, however, are most 
 beautiful and deeply moving. Generally he frees himself 
 in an epic or dramatic way from subjective introspection; 
 he projects his feeling into another personality or sends 
 it forth in choral song in terms of "we" and "our." The 
 moods he does express more directly for himself are vague 
 youthful longing for the great and the distant, joyous trust- 
 fulness even in adversity and under criticism, love of par- 
 ents, wife, family, and friends, faith in the future and in 
 the power of the good to prevail. 
 
 By far the largest number of the Poems and Songs have 
 as their subject patriotism in the broadest sense, a theme 
 
INTRODUCTION xxi 
 
 at once simple and complex. It is in them that the skald 
 and chieftain so typically blend in one. Of this group the 
 influence has been widest and deepest. In his oration at 
 the unveiling of the statue of Wergeland in Christiania, 
 Bjornson spoke of him and of Norway's constitution as 
 growing up together; with reference to this it has been 
 maintained that we have still greater right to say that 
 Bjornson and Norway's full freedom and independence 
 grew up together. The truth of the statement is very largely 
 due to Bjornson's patriotic poems. Through them the poet- 
 prophet interpreted for his nation the historic past and the 
 evolving present, and forecast the future. Simplifying the 
 meaning of life, he accomplished the mission which he 
 himself made the ideal of The Poet, and became for his own 
 people the liberalizing teacher and molder, leading them to 
 freedom in thought and action, in social and political life. 
 Of this large and seemingly complex group of patriotic 
 lyrics, — whether they be on its history, or on contempora- 
 neous events and deeds of individuals with political signi- 
 ficance; or on men, both known and unknown to fame, 
 who had made and were making Norway great; or on his- 
 torical, political, and other national festivals; or on the 
 country, its land and sea and fjords and forests and fields 
 and cities, in aspects more genial or more stern, — whether 
 they be poems of the individual or social and choral songs, 
 memorial poems or ballads or lyrical romances, or descrip- 
 tions of Norway's scenery, — the unifying simple theme 
 is Norway to be loved and labored for. 
 
 Not a single poem is, however, merely descriptive of 
 
xxii INTRODUCTION 
 
 external nature. Bjornson's relation to nature is indeed 
 more intimate than that of any other Norwegian writer 
 of his time, but here also he is epic and dramatic rather 
 than subjectively lyrical. He sees and hears through what 
 is external, and his feeling for and with nature is but a 
 profounder looking into the soul of his nation or the inner 
 life of other human beings. For him Norway's scenery is 
 filled with the glory of the nation's past, the promise of 
 its future, or the needs of the present. The poems that 
 contain nature descriptions are primarily patriotic. In the 
 national hymn Tes, We Love, it is the nation, its history and 
 its future, which with the land towers as a whole before 
 his vision; in Romsdal the scenery frames the people, their 
 character and life. More personal poems, as To Molde or 
 A Meeting, are not merely descriptive ; in the former child- 
 hood's memories and the love of friends fill the scene, 
 while in the latter the freshly and tenderly drawn snow- 
 landscape is but the setting for a vivid picture of a deceased 
 friend. 
 
 The contents of this volume befit the verse-form, as 
 if each were made by and for the other. The subjects are 
 simple, large, weighty ; the form is compact, strong, sug- 
 gestive. Bjornson is distinctly not subjectively lyrical, but 
 has a place in the first rank "as a choral lyric poet and 
 as an epic lyric poet." (Collin.) Georg Brandes wrote of 
 him many years ago: "In few [fields] has he put forth 
 anything so individual, unforgettable, imperishable, as in 
 the lyric field." 
 
POEMS AND SONGS 
 BY 
 
 BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 
 
SYNNOVE'S SONG 
 (from synnove solbakken) 
 
 HAVE thanks for all from our childhood's day, 
 Our play together in woodland roaming. 
 I thought that play would go on for aye, 
 Though life should pass to its gloaming. 
 
 I thought that play would go on for aye. 
 From bowers leading of leafy birches 
 
 To where the Solbakke houses lay. 
 And where the red-painted church is. 
 
 I sat and waited through evenings long 
 
 And scanned the ridge with the spruces yonder; 
 
 But darkening mountains made shadows throng, 
 And you the way did not wander. 
 
 I sat and waited with scarce a doubt: 
 
 He'll dare the way when the sun's descended. 
 
 The light shone fainter, was nearly out. 
 The day in darkness had ended. 
 
 My weary eye is so wont to gaze. 
 
 To turn its look it is slow in learning; 
 
 No other landmark it seeks, nor strays, 
 Beneath the brow sorely burning. 
 
 They name a place where I help may find, 
 And fain to Fagerli church would guide me; 
 
POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 But try not thither to move my mind; — 
 He sits there ever beside me. 
 
 — But good it is, that full well I knowr, 
 
 Who placed the houses both here and yonder. 
 
 Then cut a way through the woods so low 
 And let my eye on it wander. 
 
 But good it is that full well I know, 
 
 Who built the church and to pray invited. 
 
 And made them meeting in pairs to go 
 Before the altar united. 
 
 THE HARE AND THE FOX 
 
 (from synnove solbakken) 
 
 1 HE fox lay still by the birch-tree's root 
 
 In the heather. 
 The hare was running with nimble foot 
 
 O'er the heather. 
 Was ever brighter a sunshine-day. 
 Before, behind me, and every way. 
 
 O'er the heather! 
 
 The fox laughed low by the birch-tree's root 
 
 In the heather. 
 The hare was running with daring foot 
 
 O'er the heather. 
 
NILS FINN 
 
 I am so happy for everything! 
 Hallo! Why go you with mighty spring 
 O'er the heather i* 
 
 The fox lay hid by the birch-tree's root 
 
 In the heather. 
 The hare dashed to him with reckless foot 
 
 O'er the heather. 
 May God have mercy, but this is queer! — 
 Good gracious, how dare you dance so here 
 
 O'er the heather? 
 
 NILS FINN 
 (from halte hulda) 
 
 iNow little Nils Finn had away to go; 
 The skis were too loose at both heel and toe. 
 — "That's too bad!" rumbled yonder. 
 
 Then little Nils Finn in the snow set his feet: 
 'You ugliest troll, you shall never me cheat!" 
 — " Hee-ho-ha ! " rumbled yonder. 
 
 Nils Finn with his staff beat the snow till it blew : 
 ' Your trollship, now saw you how hapless it flew ? " 
 — "Hit-li-hu!" rumbled yonder. 
 
6 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Nils Finn pushed one ski farther forward with might; 
 The other held fast, — he reeled left and right. 
 — "Pull it up!" rumbled yonder. 
 
 Nils' tears wet the snow, while he kicked and he struck; 
 The more that he kicked there, the deeper he stuck. 
 
 — "That was good!" rumbled yonder. 
 
 The birch-trees, they danced, and the pine-trees said 
 
 "Hoo!" 
 They more were than one, — were a hundred and two. 
 
 — "Know your way?" rumbled yonder. 
 
 A laugh shook the ridge till it made the snow fly; 
 But Nils clenched his fists and he swore 't was a lie. 
 
 — "Now beware!" rumbled yonder. 
 
 The snow-field yawned wide, and the heavens came low; 
 Nils thought 't was now time for him also to go. 
 
 — "Is he gone?" rumbled yonder. — 
 
 Two skis in the snow looked about everywhere, 
 But saw nothing much; for there was nothing there. 
 
 — "Where is Nils?" rumbled yonder. 
 
THE DOVE 
 
 THE MAIDENS' SONG 
 (from halte hulda) 
 
 Cjood-morning, sun, 'mid the leaves so green - 
 Mind of youth in the dales' deep reaches, 
 Smile that brightens their somber speeches, 
 
 Heaven's gold on our earth-dust seen ! 
 
 Good-morning, sun, o'er the royal tower! 
 
 Kindly thou beckonest forth each maiden; 
 
 Kindle each heart as a star light-laden, 
 Twinkling so clear, though a sad night lower ! 
 
 Good-morning, sun, o'er the mountain-side ! 
 
 Light the land that still sleep disguises 
 
 Till it awakens and fresh arises 
 For yonder day in thy warmth's full tide! 
 
 THE DOVE 
 (from halte hulda) 
 
 1 saw a dove fear-daunted. 
 
 By howling storm-blast driven; 
 Where waves their power vaunted, 
 
 From land it had been riven. 
 No cry nor moan it uttered, 
 
 I heard no plaint repeated; 
 In vain its pinions fluttered — 
 
 It had to sink, defeated. 
 
POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 THE MOTHER'S SONG 
 
 (from arne) 
 
 L<ord! Oh, hold in Thy hand my child, 
 Guard by the river its playing! 
 
 Send Thou Thy Spirit as comrade mild, 
 Lest it be lost in its straying ! 
 
 Deep is the water and false the ground. 
 
 Lord, if His arms shall the child surround. 
 Drowned it shall not be, but living, 
 Till Thou salvation art giving. 
 
 Mother, whom loneliness befalls. 
 
 Knowing not where it is faring. 
 Goes to the door, and its name there calls ;- 
 
 Breezes no answer are bearing. 
 This is her thought, that everywhere 
 He and Thou for it always care; 
 
 Jesus, its little brother. 
 
 Follows it home to mother. 
 
 LAMBKIN MINE 
 (from arne) 
 
 K.ILLE, kille, lambkin mine. 
 Though it often be hard to climb 
 Over the rocks upswinging. 
 Follow thy bell's sweet ringing! 
 
BALLAD OF TAILOR NILS 
 
 Kille, kille, lambkin mine, 
 
 Take good care of that fleece-coat thine ! 
 
 Sewed to one and another, 
 
 Warm it shall keep my mother. 
 
 Kille, kille, lambkin mine, 
 Feed and fatten thy flesh so fine ! 
 Know, you dear little sinner, 
 Mother will have it for dinner! 
 
 BALLAD OF TAILOR NILS 
 
 (from arne) 
 
 If you were born before yesterday. 
 
 Surely you 've heard about Tailor Nils, who flaunts him 
 so gay. 
 
 If it 's more than a week that you 've been here. 
 Surely you 've heard how Knut Storedragen got a lesson 
 severe. 
 
 Up on the barn of Ola- Per Kviste after a punchin ' : 
 "When Nils heaves you again, take with you some lunch- 
 eon." 
 
 Hans Bugge, he was a man so renowned. 
 
 Haunting ghosts of his name spread alarm all around. 
 
 " Tailor Nils, where you wish to lie, now declare ! 
 
 On that spot will I spit and lay your head right there." — 
 
lo POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 " Oh, just come up so near, that I know you by the 
 
 scent ! 
 Think not that by your jaw to earth I shall be bent ! " 
 
 When first they met, 'twas scarce a bout at all, 
 Neither man was ready yet to try to get a fall. 
 
 The second time Hans Bugge slipped his hold. 
 "Are you tired now, Hans Bugge? The dance will soon 
 be bold." 
 
 The third time Hans fell headlong, and forth the blood 
 
 did spurt. 
 "Why spit you now so much, man ? " — " Oh my, that fall 
 
 did hurt!"— 
 
 Saw you a tree casting shadows on new-fallen snow? 
 Saw you Nils on a maiden smiling glances bestow? 
 
 Have you seen Tailor Nils when the dance he commences ? 
 Are you a maiden, then go! — It 's too late, when you've 
 lost your senses. 
 
 VENEVIL 
 (from arne) 
 
 Tair Venevil hastened with tripping feet 
 
 Her lover to meet. 
 He sang, so it rang o'er the church far away: 
 « Good-day ! Good-day ! " 
 
VENEVIL II 
 
 And all the little birds sang right merrily their lay : 
 "Midsummer Day 
 Brings us laughter and play; 
 But later know I little, if she twines her wreath so gay ! " 
 
 She twined him a wreath of the flowers blue: 
 
 "My eyes for you!" 
 He tossed it and caught it and to her did bend: 
 
 " Good-by, my friend ! " 
 And loudly he exulted at the field's far distant end : 
 
 "Midsummer Day 
 Brings us laughter and play; 
 But later know I little, if she twines her wreath so gay ! " 
 
 She twined him a wreath : " Do at all you care 
 
 For my golden hair?" 
 She twined one, and gave in life's hour so rare 
 
 Her red lips' pair; 
 He took them and he pressed them, and he blushed as she 
 did there. 
 
 She twined one all white as a lily-band : 
 
 "'T is my right hand." 
 She twined one blood-red, with her love in each strand : 
 
 "'Tis my left hand." 
 He took them both and kept them both, but would not 
 understand. 
 
 She twined of the flowers that bloomed around : 
 "Every one I found!" 
 
12 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 She gathered and twined, while tears would her eyes fill : 
 
 "Take them you will!" 
 In silence then he took theni,but to flight he turned him still. 
 
 She twined one so large, of discordant hue : 
 
 " My bride's-wreath true ! " 
 She twined it and twined, till her fingers were sore: 
 
 "Crown me, I implore!" 
 But when she turned, he was not there, she never saw 
 him more. 
 
 She twined yet undaunted without a stay 
 
 At her bride' s-array. 
 But now it was long past the Midsummer Day, 
 
 All the flowers away: 
 She twined itof the flowers, though they all were nowaway ! 
 " Midsummer Day 
 
 Brings us laughter and play; 
 But later know I little, if she twines her wreath so gay!" 
 
 OVER THE LOFTY MOUNTAINS 
 
 (from arne) 
 
 W ONDER I must, what I once may see 
 
 Over the lofty mountains ! 
 Eyes shall meet only snow, may be ; 
 Standing here, each evergreen tree 
 
 Over the heights is yearning; — 
 
 Will it be long in learning? 
 
OVER THE LOFTY MOUNTAINS 
 
 Pinions strong bear the eagle away 
 Over the lofty mountains 
 
 Forth to the young and vigorous day; 
 
 There he exults in the swift, wild play, 
 Rests where his spirit orders, — 
 Sees all the wide world's borders. 
 
 Full-leaved the apple-tree wishes naught 
 
 Over the lofty mountains ! 
 Spreading, when summer hither is brought. 
 Waiting till next time in its thought; 
 Many a bird it is swinging, 
 Knowing not what they are singing. 
 
 He who has longed for twenty years 
 
 Over the lofty mountains. 
 He who knows that he never nears. 
 Smaller feels with the lapsing years. 
 
 Heeds what the bird is singing 
 
 Cheerily to its swinging. 
 
 Garrulous bird, what will you here 
 
 Over the lofty mountains ? 
 Surely your nest was there less drear, 
 Taller the trees, the outlook clear; — 
 Will you then only bring me 
 Longings, but naught to wing me? 
 
 Shall I then never, never go 
 Over the lofty mountains? 
 
14 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Shall to my thoughts this wall say, — No! 
 
 Stand with terror of ice and snow, 
 Barring the way unwended. 
 Coffin me when life is ended? 
 
 Out will I! Out! — Oh, so far, far, far. 
 
 Over the lofty mountains ! 
 Here is this cramping, confining bar. 
 Baffling my thoughts, that so buoyant are;- 
 
 Lord! Let me try the scaling. 
 
 Suffer no final failing! 
 
 Sometime I know I shall rise and soar 
 
 Over the lofty mountains. 
 Hast Thou already ajar Thy doori" — 
 Good is Thy home! Yet, Lord, I implore, 
 Hold not the gates asunder, — 
 Leave me my longing wonder ! 
 
 THE DAY OF SUNSHINE 
 (from arne) 
 
 It was such a lovely sunshine-day. 
 
 The house and the yard couldn't hold me; 
 
 I roved to the woods, on my back I lay. 
 In cradle of fancy rolled me ; 
 
 But there were ants, and gnats that bite. 
 
 The horse-fly was keen, the wasp showed fight. 
 
THE DAY OF SUNSHINE 15 
 
 "Dear me, don't you want to be out in this fine 
 weather?" — said mother, who sat on the steps and sang. 
 
 It was such a lovely sunshine-day, 
 
 The house and the yard couldn't hold me; 
 
 A meadow I found, on my back I lay, 
 And sang what my spirit told me; 
 
 Then snakes came crawling, a fathom long. 
 
 To bask in the sun, — I fled with my song. 
 
 "In such blessed weather we can go barefoot," — said 
 mother, as she pulled off her stockings. 
 
 It was such a lovely sunshine-day. 
 
 The house and the yard couldn't hold me; 
 
 I loosened a boat, on my back I lay. 
 While blithely the current bowled me ; 
 
 But hot grew the sun, and peeled my nose; 
 
 Enough was enough, and to land I chose. 
 
 "Now these are just the days to make hay in," — said 
 mother, as she stuck the rake in it. 
 
 It was such a lovely sunshine-day. 
 
 The house and the yard couldn't hold me; 
 
 I climbed up a tree, oh, what bliss to play, 
 As cooling the breeze consoled me; 
 
 But worms soon fell on my neck, by chance. 
 
 And jumping, I cried: "'T is the Devil's own dance!" 
 
1 6 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 " Yes, if the cows aren't sleek and shiny to-day, they '11 
 never be so," — said mother, gazing up the hillside. 
 
 It was such a lovely sunshine-day, 
 
 The house and the yard couldn't hold me; 
 
 I dashed to the waterfall's endless play. 
 There only could peace enfold me. 
 
 The shining sun saw me drown and die, — 
 
 If you made this ditty, 't was surely not I. 
 
 "Three more such sunshine-days, and everything will 
 be in," — said mother, and went to make my bed. 
 
 INGERID SLETTEN 
 
 (from arne) 
 
 Ingerid Sletten of Sillejord 
 Neither gold nor silver did own. 
 But a little hood of gay wool alone. 
 
 Her mother had given of yore. 
 
 A little hood of gay wool alone. 
 
 With no braid nor lining, was here; 
 But parent love made it ever dear. 
 
 And brighter than gold it shone. 
 
 She kept the hood twenty years just so: 
 "Be it spotless," softly she cried, 
 "Until I shall wear it once as bride, 
 
 When I to the altar go." 
 
THE TREE 17 
 
 She kept the hood thirty years just so: 
 " Be it spotless," softly she cried, 
 "Then wear it I will, a gladsome bride, 
 
 When it to our Lord I show." 
 
 She kept the hood forty years just so. 
 With her mother ever in mind. 
 "Little hood, be with me to this resigned. 
 That ne'er to the altar we '11 go." 
 
 She steps to the chest where the hood has lain. 
 
 And seeks it with swelling heart; 
 
 She guides her hand to its place apart, — 
 But never a thread did remain. 
 
 THE TREE 
 
 (from arne) 
 
 K.EADY with leaves and with buds stood the tree. 
 " Shall I take them ? " the frost said, now puffing with glee. 
 " Oh my, no, let them stand. 
 Till flowers are at hand!" 
 All trembling from tree-top to root came the plea. 
 
 Flowers unfolding the birds gladly sung. 
 "Shall I take them?" the wind said and merrily swung. 
 "Oh my, no, let them stand. 
 Till cherries are at hand!" 
 Protested the tree, while it quivering hung. 
 
1 8 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 The cherries came forth 'neath the sun's glowing eye. 
 "Shall I take them?" a rosy young girl's eager cry, 
 "Oh my, yes, you can take, 
 I 've kept them for your sake ! " 
 Low bending its branches, the tree brought them nigh. 
 
 THE MELODY 
 
 (from arne) 
 
 1 HE youth in the woods spent the whole day long, 
 
 The whole day long; 
 For there he had heard such a wonderful song, 
 
 Wonderful song. 
 
 Willow-wood gave him a flute so fair, 
 
 A flute so fair, — 
 To try, if within were the melody rare. 
 
 Melody rare. 
 
 Melody whispered and said: "I am here!" 
 
 Said: "I am here!" 
 But while he was listening, it fled from his ear. 
 
 Fled from his ear. 
 
 Oft when he slept, it to him crept, 
 
 It to him crept; 
 And over his forehead in love it swept. 
 
 In love it swept. 
 
OUR COUNTRY 19 
 
 When he would seize it, his sleep took flight, 
 
 His sleep took flight; 
 The melody hung in the pallid night. 
 
 In the pallid night. 
 
 "Lord, O my God, take me therein. 
 Take me therein ! 
 The melody rare all my soul doth win, 
 My soul doth win." 
 
 Answered the Lord: "'Tis your friend alone. 
 
 Your friend alone; 
 Though never an hour you it shall own, 
 
 You it shall own." 
 
 OUR COUNTRY 
 
 (1859) 
 
 A. LAND there is, lying near far-northern snow. 
 Where only the fissures life's springtime may know. 
 But surging, the sea tells of great deeds done. 
 And loved is the land as a mother by son. 
 
 What time we were little and sat on her knee. 
 She gave us her saga with pictures to see. 
 We read till our eyes opened wide and moist. 
 While nodding and smiling she mute rejoiced. 
 
20 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 We went to the fjord and in wonder beheld 
 The ashen-gray bauta, that record of eld ; 
 Still older she stood and her silence kept, 
 While stone-studded hows all around us slept. 
 
 Our hands she then took and away o'er the hill 
 She led to the church ever lowly and still, 
 Where humbly our forefathers knelt to pray, 
 And mildly she taught us : " Do ye as they ! " 
 
 She scattered her snow on the mountain's steep side, 
 Then bade on swift skis her young manhood to glide; 
 The North Sea she maddened with scourge of gales. 
 Then bade her young manhood to hoist the sails. 
 
 Of beautiful maidens she gathered a throng, 
 To follow our daring with smiles and with song. 
 While she sat enthroned with her saga's scroll 
 In mantle of moonlight beneath the Pole. 
 
 Then "Forward, go forward!" was borne on the wind, 
 "With forefathers' aim and with forefathers' mind. 
 For freedom, for Norsehood, for Norway, hurrah ! " 
 While echoing mountains voiced their hurrah. 
 
 Then life-giving fountains burst forth on our sight, 
 Then we were baptized with her spirit of might. 
 Then gleamed o'er the mountains a vision high, 
 That summons us onward until we die. 
 
SONG FOR NORWAY 21 
 
 SONG FOR NORWAY 
 
 (1859) 
 
 NATIONAL HYMN 
 
 Y Es, we love this land that towers 
 
 Where the ocean foams; 
 Rugged, storm-swept, it embowers 
 
 Many thousand homes. 
 Love it, love it, of you thinking. 
 
 Father, mother dear. 
 And that night of saga sinking 
 
 Dreamful to us here. 
 
 This the land that Harald guarded 
 
 With his hero-throng, 
 This the land that Haakon warded. 
 
 Hailed by Eyvind's song. 
 Olaf here the cross erected, 
 
 While his blood he shed; 
 Sverre's word this land protected 
 
 'Gainst the Roman dread. 
 
 Peasants whetted axes carried. 
 
 Broke th' invader's blow; 
 Tordenskjold flashed forth and harried, 
 
 Lighted home the foe. 
 Women oft to arms were leaping. 
 
 Manlike in their deed; 
 
POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Others' lot was naught but weeping,— 
 Tears that brought their meed. 
 
 Many truly were we never, 
 
 But we did suffice. 
 When in times of testing ever 
 
 Worthy was the prize. 
 For we would the land see burning, 
 
 Rather than its fail; 
 Memory our thoughts is turning 
 
 Down to Fredrikshald ! 
 
 Harder times we bore that tried us 
 
 Were cast off in scorn ; 
 In that crisis was beside us 
 
 Blue-eyed freedom born. 
 That gave father-strength for bearing 
 
 Famine-need and sword, 
 Honor death itself outwearing, 
 
 And it gave accord. 
 
 Far our foe his weapons flinging 
 
 Up his visor raised ; 
 We in wonder to him springing 
 
 On our brother gazed. 
 Both by wholesome shame incited 
 
 Southward made our way; 
 Brothers three^ in heart united. 
 
 We shall stand for aye! 
 
THE CALL 23 
 
 Men of Norway, high or lowly, 
 
 Give to God the praise! 
 He our land's Defender Holy 
 
 In its darkest days! 
 All our fathers here have striven 
 
 And our mothers wept, 
 Hath the Lord His guidance given, 
 
 So our right we kept. 
 
 Yes, we love this land that towers 
 
 Where the ocean foams; 
 Rugged, storm-swept, it embowers 
 
 Many thousand homes. 
 As our fathers' conflict gave it 
 
 Vict'ry at the end. 
 Also we, when time shall crave it. 
 
 Will its peace defend. 
 
 THE CALL 
 (from a happy boy) 
 
 vjOME calf now to mother. 
 Come lamb that I choose, 
 Come cats, one and t' other. 
 With snowy-white shoes. 
 Come gosling all yellow. 
 Come forth with your fellow. 
 Come chickens so small, 
 Scarce walking at all. 
 
24 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Come doves, that are mine now, 
 
 With feathers so fine now! 
 
 The grass is bedewed. 
 
 The sunlight renewed, 
 
 It's early, early, summer's advancing 
 
 But autumn soon comes a-dancing! 
 
 EVENING 
 (from a happy boy) 
 
 JivENiNG sun in beauty is shining. 
 Lazy puss on the step 's reclining. 
 " Two small mice. 
 
 Cream that was so nice. 
 
 Four fine bits of fish, 
 
 Stolen from a dish. 
 And I 'm so good and full. 
 And I 'm so lazy and dull!" 
 
 Says the pussy. 
 
 Mother-hen her wings now is sinking. 
 Rooster stands on one leg a-thinking: 
 "That gray goose. 
 
 High he flies and loose; 
 
 But just watch, you must admit. 
 
 Naught he has of rooster-wit. 
 Chickens in! To the coop away! 
 Gladly dismiss we the sun for to-day!" 
 
 Says the rooster. 
 
MARIT'S SONG 25 
 
 ' Dear me, it is good to be living, 
 When life no labor is giving ! " 
 Says the song-bird. 
 
 MARIT'S SONG 
 (from a happy boy) 
 
 "Dance!" called the fiddle. 
 Its strings loudly giggled. 
 The bailiff's man wriggled 
 Ahead for a spree. 
 "Hold!" shouted Ola 
 
 And tripped him to tumbling, 
 The bailiff's man humbling, 
 To maidens' great glee. 
 
 " Hop ! " said then Erik, 
 
 His foot struck the ceiling, 
 The beams rang their pealing, 
 The walls gave a shriek. 
 
 "Stop!" said now Elling, 
 
 And seizing him collared. 
 He held him and hollered: 
 
 "You still are too weak!" 
 
 "Hei!" said then Rasmus, 
 Fair Randi embracing: 
 "Be quick now in placing 
 The kiss that you know!" 
 
z6 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 "Nay!" answered Randi. 
 A slapping she gave him, 
 And from her she drave him: 
 
 " Here take what I owe ! " 
 
 LOVE THY NEIGHBOR 
 
 (from a happy boy) 
 
 Love thy neighbor, to Christ be leal! 
 Crush him never with iron-heel, 
 
 Though in the dust he 's lying ! 
 All the living responsive await 
 Love with power to recreate, 
 
 Needing alone the trying. 
 
 OYVIND'S SONG 
 (from a happy boy) 
 
 J_/IFT thy head, thou undaunted youth! 
 Though some hope may now break, forsooth. 
 Brighter a new one and higher 
 Shall thine eye fill with its fire. 
 
 Lift thy head to the vision clear! 
 Something near thee is calling : "Here!" — 
 Something with myriad voicing. 
 Ever in courage rejoicing. 
 
LOVE SONG 27 
 
 Lift thy head, for an azure height 
 Rears within thee a vault of light ; 
 Music of harps there is ringing, 
 Jubilant, rapturous singing. 
 
 Lift thy head and thy longing sing! 
 None shall conquer the growing spring; 
 Where there is life-making power. 
 Time shall set free the flower. 
 
 Lift thy head and thyself baptize 
 In the hopes that radiant rise, 
 Heaven to earth foreshowing. 
 And in each life-spark glowing! 
 
 LOVE SONG 
 (from a happy boy) 
 
 ilAVE you love for me. 
 Yours my love shall be. 
 
 While the days of life are flowing. 
 Short was summer's stay, 
 Grass now pales away. 
 
 With our play will come regrowing. 
 
 What you said last year 
 Sounds yet in my ear, — 
 
 Birdlike at the window sitting. 
 
28 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Tapping, trilling there, 
 Singing, in would bear 
 
 Joy the warmth of sun befitting. 
 
 Litli-litli-lu, 
 
 Do you hear me too. 
 
 Youth behind the birch-trees biding? 
 Now the words I send, — 
 Darkness will attend. 
 
 May be you can give them guiding. 
 
 Take it not amiss! 
 Sang I of a kiss ? 
 
 No, I surely never planned it. 
 Did you hear it, you? 
 Give no heed thereto, — 
 
 Haste I make to countermand it. 
 
 Oh, good-night, good-night! 
 Dreams enfold me bright 
 
 Of your eyes' persuasive mildness. 
 Many a silent word 
 From their corners heard, — 
 
 Breaking forth with gentle wildness. 
 
 Now my song is still; 
 Is there more you will ? 
 
 All the tones, to me returning, 
 Laughing, luring, soar; 
 Did you wish me more? 
 
 Still and warm the night is yearning. 
 
MOUNTAIN SONG 29 
 
 MOUNTAIN SONG 
 (from a happy boy) 
 
 When you will the mountains roam 
 
 And your pack are making, 
 Put therein not much from home, 
 
 Light shall be your taking! 
 Drag no valley-fetters strong 
 
 To those upland spaces, 
 Toss them with a joyous song 
 
 To the mountains' bases! 
 
 Birds sing Hail! from many a bough, 
 
 Gone the fools' vain talking, 
 Purer breezes fan your brow. 
 
 You the heights are walking. 
 Fill your breast and sing with joy I 
 
 Childhood's mem'ries starting. 
 Nod with blushing cheeks and coy. 
 
 Bush and heather parting. 
 
 If you stop and listen long. 
 
 You will hear upwelling 
 Solitude's unmeasured song 
 
 To your ear full swelling; 
 And when now there purls a brook, 
 
 Now stones roll and tumble, 
 Hear the duty you forsook 
 
 In a world-wide rumble. 
 
30 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Fear, but pray, you anxious soul, 
 
 While your mem'ries meet you ! 
 Thus go on; the perfect whole 
 
 On the top shall greet you. 
 Christ, Elijah, Moses, there 
 
 Wait your high endeavor. 
 Seeing them you '11 know no care. 
 
 Bless your path forever. 
 
 ANSWER FROM NORWAY 
 
 TO THE SPEECHES IN THE 
 SWEDISH HOUSE OF NOBLES, i860 
 
 JriAVE you heard what says the Swede now, 
 
 Young Norwegian man? 
 Have you seen what forms proceed now, 
 
 Border-watch to plan ? 
 Shades of those from life departed. 
 Our forefathers single-hearted, 
 
 Who, when words like these were said, 
 
 Mounted guard and knew no dread. 
 
 Says the Swede now: That our cherished 
 
 Norseland's banner red. 
 That which flew when Magnus perished. 
 
 As to-day outspread. 
 Which o'er Fredrikshald victorious 
 And o'er Adler waved all glorious. 
 
ANSWER FROM NORWAY 31 
 
 That the Swedish yellow-blue 
 Must in shame henceforth eschew. 
 
 Says the Swede now : Lost their luster 
 
 Have our memories, 
 Brighter honors shall we muster, 
 
 If we borrow his. 
 Bids us forth to Liitzen stumble. 
 Close this straw-thatched cottage humble, 
 
 Drag our grandsire's ancient seat 
 
 To the Swedes for honor meet. 
 
 Let it stand, that poor old lumber. 
 
 To us dear for aye; 
 Sweden's ground it could but cumber. 
 
 And it might not pay. 
 For, we know from history's pages, 
 Some sat there in former ages, 
 
 Sverre Priest and other men, 
 
 Who may wish to come again. 
 
 Says the Swede now: We must know it. 
 
 He our freedom gave, 
 But the Swedish sword can mow it, 
 
 Send it to its grave. 
 Yet the case is not alarming. 
 He must fare with good fore-arming. 
 
 For in truth some fell of yore. 
 
 There where he would break a door. 
 
32 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Says the Swede now: We a clever 
 
 Little boy remain, 
 Very suitable to ever 
 
 Hold his mantle's train. 
 But would Christie be so pliant, 
 With his comrades self-reliant. 
 
 If they still at Eidsvold stood. 
 
 Sword-girt, building Norway's good ? 
 
 Big words oft the Swede was saying. 
 
 Only small were we. 
 But they never much were weighing, 
 
 When the test should be. 
 On the little cutter sailing, 
 Wessel and Norse youth prevailing, 
 
 Sweden's flag and frigate chased 
 
 From the Kattegat in haste. 
 
 Sweden's noblemen are shaking 
 Charles the Twelfth's proud hat; 
 
 We, in council or war-making. 
 Peers are for all that. 
 
 If things take the worse turn in there. 
 
 Aid from Torgny we shall win there. 
 Then o'er all the Northland's skies 
 Greater freedom's sun shall rise. 
 
JOHAN LUDVIG HEIBERG 33 
 
 JOHAN LUDVIG HEIBERG 
 
 (i860) 
 
 1 o the grave they bore him sleeping, 
 
 Him the aged, genial gardener; 
 Now the children gifts are heaping 
 
 From the flower-bed he made. 
 
 There the tree that he sat under. 
 
 And the garden gate is open. 
 While we cast a glance and wonder 
 
 Whether some one sits there still. 
 
 He is gone. A woman only 
 
 Wanders there with languid footsteps, 
 Clothed in black and now so lonely. 
 
 Where his laughter erst rang clear. 
 
 As a child when past it going, 
 
 Through the fence she looked with longing. 
 Now great tears so freely flowing 
 
 Are her thanks that she came in. 
 
 Fairy-tales and thoughts high-soaring 
 Whispered to him 'neath the foliage. 
 
 She flits softly, gathering, storing 
 Them as solace for her woe. 
 
34 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Far his wanderings once bore him, 
 Bore this aged, genial searcher; 
 
 One who listening sat before him 
 
 Much could learn from time to time. 
 
 Life and letters were his ladder 
 
 Up toward that which few discover. 
 
 Thought's wide realm, with vision gladder 
 He explored, each summit scaled. 
 
 In his manhood he defended 
 
 All that greatness has and beauty; 
 
 Later he the stars attended 
 In their silent course to God. 
 
 Older men remember rather 
 "New Year!" ringing o'er the Northland. 
 How it power had to gather 
 Leaders to a greater age ! 
 
 Do you him remember leaping 
 
 Forth, his horn so gladly winding. 
 
 Back the mob on all sides sweeping 
 From the progress of the great ? 
 
 Play of thought 'mid tears and laughter. 
 Fauns and children were about him; 
 
 Freedom's beacons high thereafter 
 Kindled slowly of themselves. 
 
JOHAN LUDVIG HEIBERG 35 
 
 And his words soon found a hearing, 
 Peace of heart flowed from his music; 
 
 All the land thrilled to the nearing 
 Of a great prophetic choir. 
 
 In his manhood he defended 
 
 All that greatness has and beauty; 
 
 Later he the stars attended 
 In their silent course to God. 
 
 Northern flowers were his pleasure, 
 
 As an aged genial gardener, 
 From his nation's springtime treasure 
 
 Culling seed for deathless growth. 
 
 Now with humor, now sedately. 
 
 He kept planting or uprooting. 
 While the Danish beech-tree stately 
 
 Gave his soul its evening peace. 
 
 There the tree we saw him under. 
 
 And the garden gate is open. 
 While we cast a glance and wonder 
 
 Whether some one sits there still. 
 
36 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 THE OCEAN 
 
 (from arnljot gelline) 
 
 . . . OcEANWARD I am ever yearning, 
 Where far it rolls in its calm and grandeur, 
 The weight of mountain-like fogbanks bearing. 
 Forever wandering and returning. 
 The skies may lower, the land may call it. 
 It knows no resting and knows no yielding. 
 In nights of summer, in storms of winter. 
 Its suites murmur the self-same longing. 
 
 Yes, oceanward I am ever yearning. 
 
 Where far is lifted its broad, cold forehead ! 
 
 Thereon the world throws its deepest shadow 
 
 And mirrors whispering all its anguish. 
 
 Though warm and blithesome the bright sun stroke it 
 
 With joyous message, that life is gladness. 
 
 Yet ice-cold, changelessly melancholy. 
 
 It drowns the sorrow and drowns the solace. 
 
 The full moon pulling, the tempest lifting. 
 
 Must loose their hold on the flowing water. 
 
 Down whirling lowlands and crumbling mountains 
 
 It to eternity tireless washes. 
 
 What fotth it draws must the one way wander. 
 
 What once is sunken arises never. 
 
 No message comes thence, no cry is heard thence ; 
 
 Its voice, its silence, can none interpret. 
 
THE OCEAN 37 
 
 Yes, toward the ocean, far out toward ocean. 
 
 That knows no hour of self-atonement ! 
 
 For all that suffer release it offers. 
 
 But trails forever its own enigma. 
 
 A strange alliance with Death unites it, 
 
 That all it give Him, — itself excepting! 
 
 I feel, vast Ocean, thy solemn sadness. 
 
 To thee abandon my weak devices. 
 
 To thee let fly all my anxious longings: 
 
 May thy cool breath to my heart bring healing! 
 
 Let Death now follow, his booty seeking: 
 
 The moves are many before the checkmate! 
 
 Awhile I '11 harass thy love of plunder, 
 
 As on I scud 'neath thy angry eyebrows ; 
 
 Thou only fillest my swelling mainsail. 
 
 Though Death ride fast on thy howling tempest; 
 
 Thy billows raging shall bear the faster 
 
 My little vessel to quiet waters. 
 
 Ah! Thus alone at the helm in darkness, 
 By all forsaken, by Death forgotten, 
 When sails unknown far away are wafted 
 And some swift-coursing by night are passing. 
 To note the ground-swell's resistless current. 
 The sighing heart of the breathing ocean — 
 Or small waves plashing along the planking. 
 Its quiet pastime amid its sadness. 
 
38 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Then glide my lingering longings over 
 Into the ocean-deep grief of nature, 
 The night's, the water's united coldness 
 Prepares my spirit for death's dark dwelling. 
 
 Then comes day's dawning! My soul bounds upward 
 
 On beams of light to the vault of heaven; 
 
 My ship-steed sniffing its flank is laving 
 
 With buoyant zest in the cooling billow. 
 
 With song the sailor to masthead clambers 
 
 To clear the sail that shall swell more freely. 
 
 And thoughts are flying like birds aweary 
 
 Round mast and yard-arm, but find no refuge. . . . 
 
 Yes, toward the ocean ! To follow Vikar ! 
 
 To sail like him and to sink as he did. 
 
 For great King Olaf the prow defending ! 
 
 With keel unswerving the cold thought cleaving. 
 
 But hope deriving from lightest breezes ! 
 
 Death's eager fingers so near the rudder, 
 
 While heaven's clearness the way illumines! 
 
 And then at last in the final hour 
 
 To feel the bolts and the nails are yielding 
 
 And Death is pressing the seams asunder, 
 
 That in may stream the absolving water! 
 
 Wet winding-sheets shall be folded round me, 
 
 And I descend to eternal silence. 
 
 While rolling billows my name bear shoreward 
 
 In spacious nights 'neath the cloudless moonlight! 
 
THE PRINCESS 39 
 
 ALONE AND REPENTANT 
 (to a friend since deceased) 
 
 A FRIEND I possess, whose whispers just said, 
 "God's peace!" to my night-watching mind. 
 When daylight is gone and darkness brings dread. 
 He ever the way can find. 
 
 He utters no word to smite and to score; 
 
 He, too, has known sin and its grief. 
 He heals with his look the place that is sore. 
 
 And stays till I have relief. 
 
 He takes for his own the deed that is such 
 
 That sorrows of heart increase. 
 He cleanses the wound with so gentle a touch, 
 
 The pain must give way to peace. 
 
 He followed each hope the heights that would scale. 
 
 Reproached not a hapless descent. 
 He stands here just now, so mild, but so pale; — 
 
 In time he shall know what it meant. 
 
 THE PRINCESS 
 
 1 HE princess looked down from her bower high. 
 The youth blew his horn as he lingered thereby. 
 " Be quiet, O youth, will forever you blow ? 
 It hinders my thoughts, that would far away go. 
 Now, when sets the sun." 
 
40 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 The princess looked down from her bower high, 
 The youth ceased his blowing, his horn he laid by. 
 Why are you so quiet? Now more shall you blow, 
 It lifts all my thoughts, that would far away go, 
 Now, when sets the sun." 
 
 The princess looked down from her bower high. 
 The youth blew again, as he lingered thereby. 
 Then weeping, she whispered : " O God, let me know 
 The name of this sorrow that burdens me so ! — 
 Now has set the sun." 
 
 FROM MONTE PINCIO 
 
 JivENiNG is coming, the sun waxes red, 
 Radiant colors from heaven are beaming 
 Life's lustrous longings in infinite streaming ;- 
 Glory in death o'er the mountains is spread. 
 Cupolas burn, but the fog in far masses 
 Over the bluish-black fields softly passes. 
 Rolling as whilom oblivion pale; 
 Hid is yon valley 'neath thousand years' veil. 
 Evening so red and warm 
 Glows as the people swarm. 
 Notes of the cornet flare. 
 Flowers and brown eyes fair. 
 Great men of old stand in marble erected. 
 Waiting, scarce known and neglected. 
 
FROM MONTE PINCIO 41 
 
 Vespers are ringing, through roseate air 
 Nebulous floating of tone-sacrifices, 
 Twilight in churches now broadens and rises. 
 Incense and word fill the evening with prayer. 
 Over the Sabines the flame-belt is knotted, 
 Shepherds' lights through the Campagna are dotted, 
 Rome with her lamps dimly breaks on the sight,— 
 Shadowy legend from history's night. 
 
 But to the evening's spell 
 
 Dances the Saltarell'; — 
 
 Fireworks flash and play, 
 
 Mora and laughter gay; — 
 Colors and tones in all thoughts are enthroning 
 Harmony's gracious condoning. 
 
 Lost has the light in its soundless afFray, 
 Heaven its vaulting of dark-blue is framing. 
 Where from infinity deep stars are flaming. 
 Earth's masses sink into vapor away. 
 Fleeing the darkness, the eyes seek the city. 
 Meet with its torches a corpse borne in pity; 
 These seek the night, but a flag is each light. 
 Waving the hope of eternity bright. 
 
 Gaily to dance and wine 
 
 Mandolins give the sign. 
 
 Monkish song, noise of streets. 
 
 Drowned by a drum's stern beats; — 
 Through all the dreaming life's arteries flowing. 
 Glimpses of daylight are going. 
 
42 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Silence o'er all, and the darker blue sky 
 Watches serenely expectant, 'mid cheering 
 Dreams of the past and the future that 's nearing : — 
 Fluctuant gleams in the gray that is nigh. 
 But they will gather, and Rome be resurgent. 
 Day-dawn from Italy's midnight emergent: 
 Cannon shall sound and the bells ring the new, 
 Mem'ries illumine the future's bright blue! — 
 
 Greeting a bridal pair 
 
 Charming in hope so rare, 
 
 Voices bring soft salute, 
 
 Music of harp and flute. 
 Mightier yearnings sweet sleep is beguiling; — 
 Lesser dare waken to smiling. 
 
 IF ONLY YOU KNEW IT 
 
 1 DARE never speak up to you, 
 For you to look down would not do. 
 But always you are there each day, 
 And always I wander this way. 
 Our thoughts go by stealth to make search and renew it. 
 But neither dares question nor give answer due it; 
 If only you knew it ! 
 
 When constantly I could be found. 
 You often in pride on me frowned; 
 But now that I rarely appear, 
 I see that you wait for me here! 
 
THE ANGELS OF SLEEP 43 
 
 Two eyes, oh, two eyes made a snare and then drew it, 
 And who would escape must beware, and eschew it! 
 If only you knew it! 
 
 Yes, if you but guessed, this might be 
 A poem for you made by me. 
 Whose billowy lines just now fly 
 Up where you stand graceful and high! 
 But look you, this knowledge, to no purpose grew it, 
 I farther will go. Heaven guard, lest we rue it, — 
 If only you knew it! 
 
 THE ANGELS OF SLEEP 
 
 Asleep the child fell 
 
 When night cast its spell; 
 
 The angels came near 
 
 With laughter and cheer. 
 Her watch at its waking the mother was keeping: 
 " How sweet, my dear child, was your smile now while 
 sleeping ! " 
 
 To God mother went. 
 
 From home it was rent; 
 
 Asleep the child fell 
 
 'Neath tears' troublous spell. 
 But soon it heard laughter and mother-words tender; 
 The angels brought dreams full of childhood's rare splen- 
 dor. 
 
44 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 It grew with the years, 
 
 Till gone were the tears; 
 
 Asleep the child fell, 
 
 While thoughts cast their spell. 
 But faithful the angels their vigils were keeping, 
 The thoughts took and whispered: "Have peace nov/, 
 while sleeping ! " 
 
 THE MAIDEN ON THE SHORE 
 
 OHE wandered so young on the shore around. 
 Her thoughts were by naught on earth now bound. 
 Soon came there a painter, his art he plied 
 
 Above the tide. 
 
 In shadow wide, — 
 He painted the shore and herself beside. 
 
 More slowly she wandered near him around. 
 Her thoughts by a single thing were bound. 
 And this was his picture wherein he drew 
 
 Herself so true. 
 
 Herself so true, 
 Reflected in ocean with heaven's blue. 
 
 All driven and drawn far and wide around 
 Her thoughts now by everything were bound. 
 Far over the ocean, — and yet most dear 
 
 The shore right here. 
 
 The man so near, — 
 Did ever the sunshine so bright appear! 
 
OLAF TRYGVASON 45 
 
 SECRET LOVE 
 
 blE gloomily sat by the wall, 
 As gaily she danced with them ail. 
 
 Her laughter's light spell 
 
 On every one fell; 
 His heartstrings were near unto rending, 
 But this there was none comprehending. 
 
 She fled from the house, when at eve 
 He came there to take his last leave. 
 
 To hide her she crept, 
 
 She wept and she wept; 
 Her life-hope was shattered past mending. 
 But this there was none comprehending. 
 
 Long years dragged but heavily o'er. 
 And then he came back there once more. 
 
 — Her lot was the best. 
 
 In peace and at rest; 
 Her thought was of him at life's ending, 
 But this there was none comprehending. 
 
 OLAF TRYGVASON 
 
 13road the sails o'er the North Sea go; 
 High on deck in the morning glow 
 Erling Skjalgsson from Sole 
 Scans all the sea toward Denmark: 
 " Cometh never Olaf Trygvason ? " 
 
46 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Six and fifty the ships are there, 
 Sails are let down, toward Denmark stare 
 Sun-reddened men; — then murmur: 
 "Where is the great Long Serpent? 
 Cometh never Olaf Trygvason ? " 
 
 When the sun in the second dawn 
 Cloudward rising no mast had drawn, 
 Grew to a storm their clamor: 
 "Where is the great Long Serpent? 
 Cometh never Olaf Trygvason ? " 
 
 Silent, silent that moment bound, 
 Stood they all; for from ocean's ground 
 Sighed round the fleet a muffled: 
 "Taken the great Long Serpent, 
 Fallen is Olaf Trygvason." 
 
 Ever since, through so many a year, 
 Norway's ships must beside them hear, 
 Clearest in nights of moonshine : 
 "Taken the great Long Serpent, 
 Fallen is Olaf Trygvason." 
 
 A SIGH 
 
 JlLvening sunshine never 
 Solace to my window bears. 
 Morning sunshine elsewhere fares ;- 
 
 Here are shadows ever. 
 
A SIGH 47 
 
 Sunshine freely falling, 
 Wilt thou not my chamber find? 
 Here some rays would reach a mind, 
 
 'Mid the dark appalling. 
 
 Morning sunshine's gladness. 
 Oh, thou art my childhood bright ; 
 While thou playest pure and white, 
 
 /would weep in sadness. 
 
 Evening sunshine's whiling. 
 Oh, thou art the wise man's rest; — 
 Farther on ! Then from the west 
 
 Greet my window smiling! 
 
 Morning sunshine's singing, 
 Oh, thou art the fantasy 
 That the sun-glad world lifts free. 
 
 Past my powers' winging. 
 
 Evening sunshine's quiet. 
 Thou art more than wisdom's rest. 
 Christian faith glows in thee blest: 
 
 Calm my soul's wild riot! 
 
48 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 TO A GODSON 
 
 (1861) 
 
 (pf^it/i an album containing portraits of all those who at the lime of his birth ivere 
 leaders in the intellectual and political 'Uforld.) 
 
 Here hast thou before thee that constellation 
 
 Whereunder was born thy light; 
 These stars in the vault of high thoughts' mutation 
 
 Will fashion thy life with might. 
 Their prophecy, little one, we cannot know. 
 They light up the way that, unknown, thou shalt go 
 And kindle the thoughts that within shall glow. 
 
 Thou first shalt them gather. 
 
 Then choose thine own, — 
 
 So canst thou the rather 
 
 Grope on alone. 
 
 BERGLIOT 
 
 {Harald Haardraade^s ^^g^-, toivards the end of Chapter 45, reads thus: When 
 Einar Tambarskel've's ivife Bergliot, loho had remained behind in her lodgings 
 in the toivn, learned of the death of her husband and of her son, she nvent stra^ht 
 to the royal residence, ivkere the armed force of peasants -was, and eagerly urged 
 them to fght. But in that 'very moment the King {Harald^ roived out along the 
 river. Then said Bergliot: '"'' Noiu miss ive here my kinsman, Haakon Jvarsonj 
 never should Einar^s murderer rozv out along the river, if Haakon stood here on 
 the river-bank") 
 
 (In her lodgings) 
 
 1 0-DAY King Harald 
 Must hold his ting-peace j 
 
BERGLIOT 49 
 
 For Einar has here 
 Five hundred peasants. 
 
 Our son Eindride 
 Safeguards his father. 
 Who goes in fearless 
 The King defying. 
 
 Thus maybe Harald, 
 Mindful that Einar 
 Has crowned in Norway 
 Two men with kingship, 
 
 Will grant that peace be. 
 On law well grounded; 
 This was his promise, 
 His people's longing. — 
 
 What rolling sand-waves 
 Swirl up the roadway! 
 What noise is nearing! 
 Look forth, my footboy ! 
 
 — The wind's but blowing! 
 Here storms beat wildly; 
 The Qord is open. 
 The fells low-lying. 
 
 The town's unchanged 
 Since child I trod it; 
 
50 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 The wind sends hither 
 The snarling sea-hounds. 
 
 — What flaming thunder 
 From thousand voices! 
 Steel-weapons redden 
 With stains of warfare ! 
 
 The shields are clashing! 
 See, sand-clouds rising, 
 Speer-billows rolling 
 Round Tambarskelve ! 
 
 Hard is his fortune! — 
 Oh, faithless Harald: 
 Death's ravens roving 
 Ride o'er thy ting-peace! 
 
 Fetch forth the wagon, 
 Drive to the fighting! 
 At home to cower 
 Would cost my life now. 
 
 {On the way) 
 O yeomen, yield not. 
 Circle and save him ! 
 Eindride, aid now 
 Thine aged father! 
 
 Build a shield-bulwark 
 For him bow-bending! 
 
BERGLIOT 5" 
 
 Death has no allies 
 Like Einar's arrows! 
 
 And thou, Saint Olaf, 
 Oh, for thy son's sake! 
 Help him with good words 
 In Gimle's high hall! 
 
 ( Nearer ) 
 Our foes are the stronger . . . 
 They fight now no longer . . . 
 Subduing, 
 Pursuing, 
 
 They press to the river, — 
 What is it that's done? 
 What makes me thus quiver? 
 Will fortune us shun? 
 What stillness astounding! 
 The peasants are staying. 
 Their lances now grounding. 
 Two dead men surrounding. 
 Nor Harald delaying! 
 What throngs now enwall 
 The ting-hall's high door! . . , 
 Silent they all 
 Let me pass o'er I — 
 Where is Eindride ! — 
 Glances of pity 
 
52 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Fear lest they show it. 
 
 Flee lest they greet me . . . 
 
 So I must know it: 
 
 Two deaths there will meet me!— 
 
 Room! I must see: 
 
 Oh, it is they I — 
 
 Can it so be? — 
 
 Yes, it is they! 
 
 Fallen the noblest 
 Chief of the Northland ; 
 Best of Norwegian 
 Bows is broken. 
 
 Fallen is Einar 
 
 Tambarskelve, 
 
 Our son beside him, — 
 
 Eindride ! 
 
 Murdered with malice, 
 He, who to Magnus 
 More was than father. 
 King Knut the Mighty's 
 Son's counselor good. 
 
 Slain by assassins 
 Svolder's sharp-shooter. 
 The lion that leaped on the 
 Heath of Lyrskog! 
 
BERGLIOT 53 
 
 Pride of the peasants 
 Snared in a pitfall, 
 Time-honored Tronder, 
 Tambarskelve. 
 
 White-haired and honored, 
 Hurled to the hounds here, — 
 Our son beside him, 
 Eindride ! 
 
 Up, up, ye peasants, he has fallen, 
 But he who felled him is living! 
 Have you not known me? Bergliot, 
 Daughter of Haakon from Hjorungavaag; — 
 Now I am Tambarskelve's widow. 
 
 To you I appeal, peasant-warriors : 
 My aged husband has fallen. 
 See, see, here is blood on his blanching hair, 
 Your heads shall it be on forever. 
 For cold it becomes, while vain is your vengeance. 
 
 Up, up, warriors, your chieftain has fallen. 
 Your honor, your father, the joy of your children, 
 Legend of all the valley, hero of all the land, — 
 Here he has fallen, will you not avenge him ? 
 
 Murdered with malice within the king's hall, 
 The ting-hall, the hall of the law, thus murdered. 
 Murdered by him whom the law holds highest, — 
 
54 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 From heaven will lightning fall on the land, 
 
 If thus left unpurged by the flames of vengeance. 
 
 Launch the long-ships from land ! 
 Einar's nine long-ships are lying here, 
 Let them hasten vengeance on Harald! 
 
 If he stood here, Haakon Ivarson, 
 If he stood here on the hill, my kinsman. 
 The fjord should not save the slayer of Einar, 
 And I should not seek you cowards who flinch! 
 
 Oh, peasants, hear me, my husband has fallen. 
 The high-seat of my thoughts through years half a 
 
 hundred! 
 Overthrown it now is, and by its right side. 
 Our only son fell, oh, all our future ! 
 All is now empty between my two arms; 
 Can I ever again lift them up in prayer i' 
 Or whither on earth shall I betake me ? 
 If I go and stay in the places of strangers, — 
 I shall long for those where we lived together. 
 But if I betake me thither, — 
 Ah, them, themselves I shall miss. 
 
 Odin in Valhall I dare not beseech; 
 For him I forsook in days of childhood. 
 But the great new God in Gimle? — 
 All that I had He has taken ! 
 
BERGLIOT 55 
 
 Vengeance ? Who speaks of vengeance ? 
 Can vengeance the dead awaken, 
 Or cover me warm from the cold? 
 Find I in it a widow's seat sheltered, 
 Solace to cheer a childless mother? 
 
 Away with your vengeance! Let me alone! 
 Lay him on the wagon, him and our son ! 
 Come, we will follow them home. 
 That God in Gimle, new and fearful, who all 
 
 has taken, 
 Let Him now also take vengeance! Well He 
 
 knows how ! 
 Drive slowly! For so drove Einar always; 
 — Soon enough we shall come home. 
 
 The dogs to-day will not greet us gladly. 
 But drearily howl with drooping tails. 
 And lifting their heads the horses will listen; 
 Neighing they stand, the stable-door watching, 
 Eindride's voice awaiting. 
 
 In vain for his voice will they hearken, — 
 Nor hears the hall the step of Einar, 
 That called before him for all to arise and stand. 
 For now came their chieftain. 
 
 Too large the house is; I will lock it; 
 Workmen, servants send away; 
 Sell the cattle and the horses. 
 
56 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Move far hence and live alone. 
 
 Drive slowly! 
 — Soon enough we shall come home. 
 
 TO MY WIFE 
 
 (with a set of ROMAN PEARLS) 
 
 Pray, take these pearls! — and my thanks for them 
 You lavished, the home of my youth to gem ! 
 The thousands of hours of peaceful luster 
 Your spirit has filled, are pearls that cluster 
 
 With beauty blest 
 
 On my happy breast. 
 
 And softly shining 
 
 My brow are entwining 
 With thoughts whence the truth gleams : Thus gave 
 
 his wife. 
 Who jeweled with tenderest love his life ! 
 
 IN A HEAVY HOUR 
 
 De glad when danger presses 
 Each power your soul possesses! 
 
 In greater strain 
 
 Your strength shall gain, 
 Till greater vict'ry blesses! 
 Supports may break in pieces, 
 Your friends may have caprices. 
 
KAARE'S SONG 57 
 
 But you shall see, 
 
 The end will be, 
 Your need of crutches ceases. 
 
 — 'T is clear, 
 
 Whom God makes lonely, 
 To him He comes more near. 
 
 KAARE'S SONG 
 
 (from SIGURD SLEMBE) 
 KAARE 
 
 What wakens the billows, while sleeps the wind.? 
 
 What looms in the west released? 
 What kindles the stars, ere day 's declined, 
 
 Like fires for death's dark feast ? 
 
 ALL 
 
 God aid thee here, our earl, 
 God aid thee here, our earl, 
 It is Helga, who comes unto Orkney. 
 
 KAARE 
 
 What drives the fierce dragon to ride the foam. 
 
 While billows with blood are red? 
 The sea-fowl are shrieking, they seek their home, 
 
 And hover around my head. 
 
58 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 ALL 
 
 God aid thee here, our earl, 
 God aid thee here, our earl. 
 It is Helga, who comes unto Orkney. 
 
 KAARE 
 
 What maiden so strange to the strand draws nigh. 
 
 In light with soft music nears? 
 What is it that makes all the flowers die, 
 
 What fills all your eyes with tears? 
 
 ALL 
 
 God aid thee here, our earl, 
 God aid thee here, our earl. 
 It is Helga, who comes unto Orkney. 
 
 IVAR INGEMUNDSON'S LAY 
 
 (from SIGURD slembe) 
 
 Wherefore have I longings. 
 When to live them strength is lacking ? 
 And wherefore see I, 
 If I see but sorrow ? 
 
 Flight of my eye to the great and distant 
 Dooms it to gales of darkening doubt; 
 But fleeing backward to the present. 
 It 's prisoned in pain and pity. 
 
IVAR INGEMUNDSON'S LAY 59 
 
 For I see a land with no leader, 
 I see a leader with no land. 
 The land how heavy-laden ! 
 The leader how high his longing! 
 
 Might the men but know it, 
 That he is here among them! 
 But they see a man in fetters. 
 And leave him to lie there. 
 
 Round the ship a storm is raging, 
 At the rudder stands a fool. Who can 
 
 save it ? 
 He, who below the deck is longing. 
 Half-dead and in fetters. 
 
 {Looking upuuard) 
 Hear how they call Thee 
 And come with arms uplifted! 
 They have their savior at hand. 
 And Thou sayest it never? 
 
 Shall they, then, all thus perish. 
 Because the one seems absent ? 
 Wilt Thou not let the fool die. 
 That life may endure in many? 
 
 What means that solemn saying: 
 One shall suffer for many? 
 But many suffer for one. 
 Oh, what means it? 
 
6o POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 The wisdom Thou gavest 
 Wearies me with guesswork. 
 The light Thou hast dealt me 
 Leads me to darkness. 
 
 Not me alone, moreover. 
 
 But millions and millions! 
 
 Space unending spans not all the questions 
 
 From earth here and up toward heaven. 
 
 Weakness cowers in walls of cloisters, 
 
 But wills of power press onward. 
 
 And thronging, with longing, 
 
 They thrust one another out of the lands. — 
 
 Whither? Before their eyes is night, 
 "In Nazareth a light is set!" one says aloud, 
 A hundred thousand say it; 
 All see it now: To Nazareth! 
 
 But the half-part perish from hunger by the 
 
 wayside, 
 The other half by the sword of the heathen, 
 The pest awaits the pilgrim in Nazareth, — 
 Wast Thou there, or wast Thou not there? 
 
 Oh, where art Thou? 
 The whole world now awakens. 
 And on the way is searching 
 And seeking after Thee! 
 
IVAR INGEMUNDSON'S LAY 6i 
 
 Or wast Thou in the hunger? 
 
 Wast Thou in the pest ? 
 
 Wast Thou in the sword of the heathen ? 
 
 Saltest Thou with the salt of wrath ? 
 
 Refinest Thou with suffering's fire ? 
 
 Hast Thou millions of millions hidden in Thy 
 
 future, 
 Whom Thou thus wilt save to freedom? 
 
 Oh, to them are the thousands that now suffer 
 But one. 
 
 And that one I would beseech Thee for — 
 Nothing ! 
 
 I follow a little brook 
 
 And find it leads to an ocean, 
 
 I see here a little drop. 
 
 And swelling in mist it mounts a mighty cloud. 
 
 See, how I 'm tossed so will-less 
 By troublous waves of doubt. 
 The wind overturned my little boat. 
 The wreck is all my refuge. 
 
 Lead me, lead me, 
 I see nowhere land! 
 Lift me, lift me, 
 I nowhere footing find! 
 
62 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 MAGNUS THE BLIND 
 
 (from SIGURD SLEMBE) 
 
 " Oh, let me look once again and see 
 Starlight the heavens o'ersweeping ! " 
 Begged young Magnus on bended knee, 
 It was sore to see. ' 
 
 All the women afar were weeping. 
 
 " Oh, till to-morrow ! The mountains to see 
 And ocean its blue displaying, 
 Only once, and then let it be!" 
 Thus he bent the knee. 
 While his friends for mercy were praying. 
 
 " Oh, in the church let God's blood so bright 
 Be the last blessing that greets me! 
 It shall bathe with a flood of light 
 Through eternal night 
 My eyes, when the darkness meets me ! " 
 
 Deep sank the steel, and each seeing eye 
 Lightning-like night had swallowed. 
 "Magnus, King Magnus, good-by, good-by ! " 
 — "Oh, good-by, good-by, — 
 You who eighteen summers me followed!" 
 
FRIDA 63 
 
 SIN, DEATH 
 
 (from SIGURD SLEMBE) 
 
 biN and Death, those sisters two. 
 
 Two, two, 
 Sat together while dawned the morning. 
 Sister, marry ! Your house will do. 
 
 Do, do. 
 For me, too, was Death's warning. 
 
 Sin was wedded, and Death was pleased. 
 
 Pleased, pleased. 
 Danced about them the day they married; 
 Night came on, she the bridegroom seized. 
 
 Seized, seized. 
 And away with her carried. 
 
 Sin soon wakened alone to weep. 
 
 Weep, weep. 
 Death sat near in the dawn of morning: 
 Him you love, I love too and keep. 
 
 Keep, keep. 
 He is here, was Death's warning. 
 
 FRIDA 
 
 r RiDA, I knew that thy life-years were counted. 
 If but before thee a lifting thought mounted. 
 
64 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Upward thy gaze turned all wistful to view it, 
 As wouldst thou pursue it. 
 
 Eyes that so clear saw the wonderful vision 
 Looked far away beyond earth's indecision. 
 Snow-white unfolded the pinions that later 
 Bore thee to the greater. 
 
 Speaking or asking thou broughtest me sorrow; 
 Eyes thine and words thine seemed wanting to borrow 
 Clearness more pure and thoughts, victory gaining 
 Beyond my attaining. 
 
 When thou wert dancing in all a child's lightness. 
 Shaking thy locks like a fountain in brightness. 
 Laughing till heaven was opened in gladness 
 Over thy gladness, — 
 
 Or when aflfliction in sternness had spoken. 
 So that thy heart in that moment seemed broken, 
 Far from thy thoughts in thy suiFering riven 
 Were both earth and heaven, — 
 
 Then, oh, I saw then: thy joy and thy grieving 
 Ever the bounds of the mortal were cleaving. 
 All seems so little where silent we ponder, — 
 But room they have yonder. 
 
BERGEN 65 
 
 BERGEN 
 
 As thou sittest there 
 
 Skerry-bound and fair, 
 Mountains- high around and ocean's deep before 
 thee. 
 
 On thee casts her spell 
 
 Saga, that shall tell 
 Once again the wonders of our land. 
 
 Honor is thy due, 
 "Bergen never new," 
 Ancient and unaging as thy Holberg's humor; 
 
 Once kings sought thine aid, — 
 
 Mighty now in trade, — 
 First to fly the flag of liberty. 
 
 Oft in proud array, 
 
 As a sunshine-day 
 Breaks forth from thy rain and fog wind-driven. 
 
 Thou didst come with men 
 
 Or great deeds again, 
 When the clouds were darkest o'er our land. 
 
 Thy soul was the ground, 
 Wit-enriched and sound, 
 Whence there sprang stout thoughts to make our 
 country's harvest, 
 
66 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Whence our arts exist, 
 In their birth-hour kissed 
 By thy nature, somber, large, and strong. 
 
 In thy mountain-hall 
 
 Learned our. painter, Z)a^/,- 
 Wand'ring on thy strands our poet dreamed, JVel- 
 haven ; 
 
 All thy morning's gold 
 
 Ole Bull ensouled. 
 Greeted on thy bay by all the world. 
 
 With thy sea-wide sway 
 
 Thou hast might for aye. 
 Fjords of blue convey thy life-blood through our 
 country. 
 
 Norway's spirit thou 
 
 Dost with joy endow, — 
 Great thy past, no less thy future great. 
 
 P. A. MUNCH 
 (1863) 
 
 JMany forms belong to greatness. 
 He who now has left us bore it 
 As a doubt that made him sleepless. 
 But at last gave revelation, — 
 As a sight-enhancing power, 
 
p. A. MUNCH 67 
 
 That gave visions joined with anguish 
 
 Over all beyond our seeing, — 
 
 As a flight on labor's pinions 
 
 From the thought unto the certain, 
 
 Thence aloft to intuition, — 
 
 Restless haste and changeful ardor, 
 
 God-inspired and unceasing. 
 
 Through the wide world ever storming, 
 
 Took its load of thoughts and doubtings, 
 
 Bore them, threw them ofF, — and took them. 
 
 Never tired, never listless. 
 
 Still ! for he had one haven of rest : 
 
 Family-life peace-bestowing ! 
 Powers of light gave repose to his breast. 
 
 Calm 'mid the strife of his knowing. 
 
 Softly with music his wife led him in 
 Unto the sweet-smelling birches ! 
 
 Unto the flowers and still deeper in 
 Under the fir-forest's churches! 
 
 Daughters drew near him in love secure 
 Cooling his forehead's hot fever; 
 
 Gently their message of innocence pure 
 Made him a childlike believer. 
 
 Or he joined glad in their light-hearted game^ 
 Colors and music surrounding, — 
 
 Gone were the clouds, in the heavens came 
 Sparkling of star-light abounding. 
 
68 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 But as in an autumn evening 
 
 Silent, dreamy, dark, sheet-lightning 
 
 Wakens thought and feeling stormward, — 
 
 Or as in a boat a sudden 
 
 Stroke when gliding as in slumber 
 
 On between the clifFs that tower 
 
 In a quiet, balmy spring night, — 
 
 But a single stroke and soft, then 
 
 Echo takes it up and tosses 
 
 To and fro 'mid walls of mountains. 
 
 Thrush and grouse send forth their wood-calls, 
 
 Deer rise up and listen keenly, 
 
 Stones are rolling, all are up now. 
 
 Dogs are barking, bells are clanging. 
 
 Ushering in the strife of daytime, — 
 
 Thus could oft a recollection 
 
 Down-light falling in that playtime. 
 
 Waken all his thought and doubting! 
 
 Then it roved the wide world over. 
 Then it hottest burned within him, — 
 But it lavished light for others ! 
 
 Rise of races, spread of language. 
 Birth of names, all laws' close kinship. 
 Small and great in equal passion, 
 Equal haste and doubting goal-ward! — 
 There where others stones saw only. 
 He saw precious gems that glistened. 
 Sunk his shaft the mine to deepen. 
 
p. A. MUNCH 69 
 
 And where others thought the treasure 
 Sure and safe for years a hundred, 
 Doubt possessed him as he burrowed 
 Day and night — and saw it vanish! 
 But the unrest that gave power 
 Made him oft the goal pass over; 
 While to others he gave clearness, 
 Intuitions new deceived him. 
 Therefore: where he once had striven, 
 Thither he would turn him never, 
 Changed his ground and shifted labor, 
 From his own thought-conquests fleeing. 
 But his thoughts pursued, untiring. 
 Followed, growing, as the fire, 
 Kindled in Brazilian forests. 
 Storm-wind makes and storm-wind follows! 
 Where before no foot had trodden. 
 Ways were burned for many millions ! 
 
 Northward stretches Scandinavia 
 'Mid the fog that dims the Ice-sea, 
 Darkness of tjie months of winter 
 Lays its weight on sea and mountain. 
 Like our lands are too our peoples. 
 Their beginnings prehistoric 
 Stretch afar in fog and darkness. 
 But as through the fog a lighthouse. 
 Or as Northern Lights o'er darkness. 
 Gleamed his thought with light and guidance. 
 
70 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 When with filial fond remembrance 
 Tenderly he sought and questioned. 
 Searching for his people's pathways — 
 Names and graves and rusty weapons, 
 Stones and tools their answer gave him. 
 Through primeval Asian forests. 
 Over steppes and sands of deserts, 
 'Neath a thousand years that moldered. 
 Saw he caravan-made footsteps 
 Seek a new home in the Northland. 
 And as they the rivers followed, 
 Followed them his thought abundant, 
 Into Nature's All full-flowing. — 
 
 See his restless soul's creation ! 
 Harmony of truth he yearned for. 
 Found it not, but wonder-working 
 New discoveries and pathways, 
 — Like those alchemists aforetime 
 Who, though gold was all their seeking. 
 Found not that, but mighty forces, 
 Which to-day the world are moving. — 
 
 Deepest ground of all his being 
 Was the polar power of contrast, 
 For his thought, to music wakened 
 By the touch of Northern Saga, 
 Vibrated melodious longing. 
 Toward the South forever tending. 
 In his eye the lambent fire. 
 
p. A. MUNCH 71 
 
 Of his thought the glint, showed kinship 
 
 With the free improvisator 
 
 In the land of warmth and vineyards. 
 
 And his swiftly changing feeling 
 
 And his all-consuming ardor, 
 
 That could toil the livelong winter 
 
 Till caprice the fruit discarded, — 
 
 That immeasurable richness 
 
 Wherein thoughts and moods and music, 
 
 Joy and sorrow, jest and earnest. 
 
 Gleamed and played without cessation, — 
 
 All a Southern day resembled! 
 
 Therefore was his life a journey. 
 Towards the South in constant movement, — 
 Through the mists of intuition. 
 From the darker to the brighter. 
 From the colder to the warmer, — 
 On the bridge of ceaseless labor 
 Bearing over sea and mountain ! 
 
 Oh, the time with wife beside him 
 And his bonny playmate-sisters 
 (Gladsome children, winsome daughters), 
 When he stood, where evening sunshine 
 Glowed on Capitol and Forum, — 
 Stood where from the great world-city. 
 As from history's very fountain, 
 Knowledge wells in streams of fullness; — 
 Where a clearness large and cloudless 
 
72 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Falls upon the bygone ages 
 
 That have laid them down to rest here; — 
 
 Where to him, the Northern searcher, 
 
 It would seem, he had been straying 
 
 Too long lost in history's fogland, 
 
 Rowing round the deep fjords' surface; — 
 
 Stood where dead men burst the earth-clods 
 
 And themselves come forth for witness 
 
 In their heavy marble togas; — 
 
 Where the goddesses of Delos 
 
 In the frescoed halls are dancing, 
 
 As two thousand years before now; — 
 
 Pantheon and Coliseum 
 
 In their spacious fate have sheltered 
 
 All the world's swift evolution; — 
 
 Where a Hermes from that corner 
 
 Saw the footsteps firm of Cato, 
 
 Pontifex in the procession, — 
 
 Saw then Nero as Apollo 
 
 Lifted up take sacrifices. 
 
 Saw then Gregory, the wrathful. 
 
 Riding forth to rule in spirit 
 
 Over all the known world's kingdoms, — 
 
 Saw then Cola di Rienzi 
 
 Homage pay to freedom's goddess 
 
 'Mid the Roman people's paeans, — 
 
 Saw Pope Leo and his princes 
 
 Choose instead of the Lord Jesus 
 
 Aristotle dead and Plato; — 
 
p. A. MUNCH 73 
 
 Saw again how stouter epochs 
 
 Raised the Church of Papal power, 
 
 Till the Frenchman overthrew it 
 
 And exalted Nature's Godhead; 
 
 Saw anew then wonted custom 
 
 In its pious, still processions 
 
 With a Lamb the great world's ruler! — 
 
 All this saw the little Hermes 
 
 On the corner near the temple. 
 
 And the wise man from the Northland 
 
 Saw that Hermes and his visions. 
 
 Yes, when over Rome he stood there 
 In that high, historic clearness, 
 And his eye the mountain-ridges 
 Followed toward the red of evening, — 
 Then all beams of longing focused 
 In a blessed intuition, 
 And — he saw a church before him 
 Greater far than that of nature. 
 And he felt a peace descending. 
 Larger far than all the present. 
 
 When the second time he came there. 
 After days and nights of labor. 
 Hard as were it for redemption, — 
 Then the Lord Himself gave welcome. 
 Led him gently thither, saying: 
 "Peace be with thee! Thou hast conquered!" 
 
74 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 But to us with sorrow stricken 
 ■ Turned the Lord with comfort, saying: 
 "When /call, who then dares murmur, 
 That the called man had not finished?" 
 
 Whoso dies, he here had finished! 
 Spite our sorrow we believe it. 
 Hold that He, who unrest giveth 
 (The discoverer's disquiet. 
 That drove Newton, drove Columbus), 
 Also knows when rest is needed. 
 
 But we question, while reviewing 
 All that mighty thought-armada 
 Now disbanded, home-returning: 
 Who again shall reunite it? 
 
 For when he cut his war-arrow. 
 Lords and liegemen soon were mustered. 
 And to aid from Sweden, Denmark, 
 England, France, swift-flying vessels 
 Coursed the sea-ways toward his standard. 
 
 Royal was that fleet and mighty. 
 By our shore at anchor lying; 
 We were wont to see it near us 
 Or to hear the wondrous tidings 
 Of its cruises and its conquests. 
 
 What it won we own forever; 
 But the fleet is sailing homeward. 
 
KING FREDERIK THE SEVENTH 75 
 
 Here we stand the last sail watching 
 As it sinks on the horizon. 
 Then we turn and breathe the question: 
 Who again shall reunite it? 
 
 KING FREDERIK THE SEVENTH 
 (1863) 
 
 Our King is bereft of a trusty friend! 
 
 And in dismay 
 We lower our banners and sad attend 
 
 On his burial day. 
 But Denmark, in sorrow most deep thou waitest, 
 For fallen the life that was warmest, greatest, 
 
 And fallen the tower 
 
 Of mightiest power. 
 Bewailing the death of their kingly chief. 
 
 Men voice their grief. 
 
 For Denmark's salvation the man was born 
 
 Who now is dead. 
 When banished in youth from the court in scorn, 
 
 To his people he fled. 
 There throve he right well, there grew he together 
 With peasants and sailors in foul and fair weather, 
 
 While fullness of living 
 
 Its schooling was giving; 
 When ready for Denmark was laid the snare. 
 
 Then he was there! 
 
76 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Now soon it was plain, he was peasant-skulled 
 
 For their tricks; and hence 
 The traitors' shrewd schemings were all annulled 
 
 By his bit of sense. 
 He knew but one thing, — what his people thought them. 
 And therefore in danger he freedom brought them. 
 
 The whole was his vision. 
 
 He would no scission; 
 His words were but few, and of these the key: 
 " It shall not be ! " 
 
 He stood by the helm like a sailor good, 
 
 In no storm remiss; 
 Of praise the tribute he never would, 
 
 But he shall have this! 
 The ship to the North he unswerving directed, — 
 In storm or in fog, exposed or protected; — 
 
 And fear allaying, 
 
 All folk were saying: 
 " He is n't so stupid as people tell. 
 
 For all goes well ! " 
 
 " On deck every man ! " was his last command, 
 "There's storm again!" 
 When answered the cry from the mast-head: "Land!" 
 
 Oh, then,^«rf then. 
 Were loosed from the helm the true hands that were 
 
 steering. 
 In death he sank down, while the ship began veering — 
 
KING FREDERIK THE SEVENTH 77 
 
 No, never veering! 
 To the course adhering! 
 Now, Denmark, united, with all thy force 
 Hold straight his course! 
 
 He made it his honor, in line to stand. 
 
 No rank to know; 
 But shoulder to shoulder to lend a hand. 
 
 And pride forego. 
 They gather now fruit of his faithful training : 
 Well drilled, every man at his post is straining. 
 
 The course is steady, 
 
 For tried and ready 
 Is many a helmsman, and all their will 
 
 Is " Northward still ! " 
 
 Naught else can they do now, but with good cheer 
 
 Hold out they must. 
 Stand guard in the darkness and have no fear. 
 
 In God their trust. 
 It is sultry and silent, and yearning in sorrow 
 All breathless they listen and wait for the morrow, — 
 
 'T is time for waiting, 
 
 Till, night abating. 
 The eastern sky reddens and bright dawn speeds 
 
 The day of deeds ! 
 
78 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 TO SWEDEN 
 
 (DECEMBER zi, 1863) 
 
 J_/iFT thou thine ancient yellow-blue! 
 
 Aloft the front must show it. 
 The German 's slow to take the cue, 
 
 But seeing that he '11 know it. 
 
 He '11 know that greater danger 's near 
 Than ink on Bismarck's trousers; 
 
 That it will cost him doubly dear, 
 Men, horses, bovine browsers; 
 
 That ten years' nonsense now is done. 
 
 The daily quarrel dirty 
 Will soon become a war with one 
 
 Who held his own for thirty; 
 
 The Northland's stubborn folk allied 
 Their forces are uniting, 
 
 With glorious memories to guide. 
 The Northern heavens lighting; 
 
 That great Gustavus once again 
 
 To battle glad is riding, 
 But now against the Southern men 
 
 With Christian Fourth is siding, — 
 
TO SWEDEN 79 
 
 With Haakon Earl the times of old 
 
 Round Palnatoki gather; 
 Near Charles the Twelfth stands Torden- 
 skjold. 
 
 Placid, and smiling rather, — 
 
 That we, who have so well known how 
 
 To fight against each other. 
 Shall not exactly scorn earn now. 
 
 When brother stands with brother. 
 
 But forward thou the way must lead 
 
 With stirring drum-beats' rattle. 
 Thy marching-step we all must heed. 
 
 Thou 'rt known on fields of battle. 
 
 That ancient Swedish melody. 
 
 Renowned in world-wide glory. 
 Not merely for the heart's deep plea 
 
 In Jenny's travel-story, — 
 
 But for the solemn earnestness 
 
 To Liitzen's battle calling. 
 And for the daring strains no less. 
 
 That rang at Narwa's falling, — 
 
 The song thou sang'st the North t' inspire 
 
 With virtue and with power. 
 The three must with united choir 
 
 Lift up this very hour! 
 
8o POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 It now must bear aloft a hymn, 
 
 The call of God proclaiming ; 
 Pictures of blood its lines shall limn, 
 
 Drawn bold in letters flaming, — 
 
 Its name shall be: "The Free North's Hymn!" 
 
 Of all the hymns thou voicest, 
 Whose glory time shall never dim, 
 
 It shall be first and choicest. 
 
 OUR FOREFATHERS 
 
 (JANUARY 13, 1864) 
 
 IIIGH memories with power 
 
 Shine through the wintry North 
 On every peak's white tower. 
 
 On Kattegat so swarth. 
 All is so still and spacious. 
 
 The Northern Lights flow free, 
 Creating bright and gracious 
 
 A day of memory. 
 
 Each deed the North defending, 
 
 Each thought for greater might, 
 A star-like word is sending 
 
 Down through the frosty night! 
 To hope they call and boldness. 
 
 And call with double cheer 
 To him, defying coldness, 
 
 On guard the Eider near. 
 
WHEN NORWAY WOULD NOT HELP 8i 
 
 No anxious shadows clouding, 
 
 No languid, lukewarm mist 
 Our heaven of mem'ries shrouding. 
 
 This eve of battle-tryst ! 
 May, as of yore, while ringing 
 
 The bells unseen loud swelled, 
 Come leaders vict'ry bringing. 
 
 Whom th' army ne'er beheld. 
 
 WHEN NORWAY WOULD NOT HELP 
 
 (EASTER EVE, 1864) 
 
 When Kattegat now or the Belt you sail. 
 
 No more will you sight 
 The Danish proud frigate, no more will you hail 
 
 The red and white; 
 No more will the ringing command be heard 
 
 In Wessel's tongue. 
 No rollicking music, no jocund word, 
 
 'Neath Dannebrog sung. 
 No dance will you see, no laughter meet, 
 
 As the white sails shine. 
 From mast and from stern no garland you greet. 
 
 Of arts the sign. 
 But all that we owned of the treasures on board 
 
 The deeps now hold; 
 One sad winter night to the sea-waves were poured 
 
 Our memories old. 
 
8z POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 It was that same night, when the frigate nigh 
 
 To Norway's land 
 Distress-guns was firing, the surf running high 
 
 With sea-weed and sand. 
 To help from the harbor men put out boats. 
 
 But they turn back, . . . 
 The frigate toward Germany drifting floats, 
 
 A broken wrack! 
 What once had been ours overboard was strown. 
 
 Each kinship mark 
 Was quickly removed, to the sea it was thrown 
 
 With curses stark! 
 The Northern lion, that figure-head gray, 
 
 Now had to fall. 
 In pieces 'twas hewn, and the frigate lay 
 
 Like a shattered wall. 
 
 Repaired and refitted, its canvas it spread 
 
 Near Germany's coast, 
 With black-yellow flag and an eagle dread 
 
 In the lion's post. 
 When sailing we Kattegat sweep with our eyes,. 
 
 'Tis still evermore. 
 But a German admiral's frigate lies 
 
 Near Scania's shore. 
 
DANIEL SCHJOTZ 83 
 
 DANIEL SCHJOTZ 
 
 (died of over-exertion as volunteer military- 
 surgeon, 1864) 
 
 He gave heed to no Great Power 
 
 But the one that God we call. 
 Hastening on to death's high hour, 
 
 He before asked not the Gaul, 
 Nor the Briton, nor the others. 
 
 If he too had leave to die 
 In the battle of his brothers 
 Underneath the Danish sky. 
 
 First to act with ardor youthful. 
 
 First a strong, clear faith to show, 
 First to swear in spirit truthful. 
 
 First o'er death's dark bridge to go. 
 
 Knowing not, in times so trying 
 
 None would come but he alone. 
 Thus he struggled, death defying. 
 
 For the sacred things we own. 
 He of thousands here remaining 
 
 Single would the name redeem. 
 Sank then with his zeal unwaning 
 
 Down beneath death's silent stream. 
 
84 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 First of souls in hope believing, 
 
 Freedom's right 'gainst wrong to wield, 
 
 First warm drop, full-flowing, cleaving, 
 Of our blood on Denmark's shield. 
 
 TO THE DANNEBROG 
 
 (when dybbol was captured) 
 
 JJannebrog of old was seeming 
 
 Snow-white^ rosy red., 
 Through the mists of ages beaming. 
 
 Heaven's gift outspread. 
 Rich as fruits of Denmark's planting, 
 Grand as song of heroes chanting. 
 Spirit-winged to deeds of daring 
 
 O'er the wide world faring. 
 
 Dannebrog, thou now art seeming 
 
 Death-pale., bloody red., 
 Like a dying sea-gull gleaming 
 
 White with blood o'erspread. 
 Purple tides the wounds are showing 
 From thy faith in justice flowing; 
 Denmark, bear the cross, thy burden ! 
 
 Honor is thy guerdon! 
 
THE NORRONA-RACE 85 
 
 TOAST FOR THE MEN OF EIDSVOLD 
 
 (may 17, 1864) 
 
 T WAS then this land of ours we drew 
 From centuries of ice and sorrow, 
 And let it of the sun's warmth borrow, 
 And law and plow brought order new; 
 We dug the wealth in mountain treasured, 
 Our stately ships the oceans measured, 
 And springtime thoughts were free to run 
 As round the Pole the midnight sun. 
 
 And still with God we '11 conquer, hold : 
 Each plot reclaimed for harvest-reaping, 
 Each ship our sea takes to its keeping. 
 Each child-soul we to manhood mold. 
 Each spark of thought our life illuming. 
 Each deed to fruit of increase blooming, — 
 A province adds unto our land 
 And o'er our freedom guard shall stand. 
 
 THE NORRONA-RACE 
 
 (NOVEMBER 4, 1864) 
 
 JN orrona-race's longing. 
 It was the sea's free wave. 
 
 And fight of heroes thronging. 
 And honor that it gave; 
 
86 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Their thoughts and deeds upspringing 
 From roots in Surtr's fire, 
 
 With branches topward swinging 
 To Yggdrasil aspire. 
 
 His course alone each guided, 
 
 Oft brother-harm was done; 
 Our vict'ries were divided. 
 
 The honor gained was one. 
 Each heard his call time-fated. 
 
 First Norway, Denmark, came. 
 The Swede the longest waited. 
 
 But greatest grew his fame. 
 
 In eastern, western regions 
 
 The Danish dragons shone. 
 To Norway's roving legions 
 
 Jerusalem was known. 
 From sparks the Swedish spirit 
 
 Struck forth in Poland's night. 
 Through Liitzen must inherit 
 
 Full half the world its light. 
 
 First Norseman, Dane, agreeing 
 
 In trying times were found. 
 But Saga's will far-seeing 
 
 By little men was bound; 
 Then Norseman, Swede, agreeing. 
 
 Time in its fullness found. 
 And Saga's will far-seeing 
 
 Shall nevermore be bound. 
 
HYMN OF THE PURITANS 87 
 
 There is prophetic power 
 
 In longing hearts of men, 
 Foretells our union's hour 
 
 For great deeds once again. 
 Each festival so glorious 
 
 To solemn vows us draws: 
 Forever be victorious 
 
 Our blood's, our race's cause! 
 
 HYMN OF THE PURITANS 
 
 (from MARIA STUART) 
 
 Arm me, Lord, my strength redouble, 
 
 Heaven open, heed my trouble ! 
 
 God, if my cause Thine shall be. 
 
 Grant a day of victory ! 
 
 Fell all Thy foes now! 
 
 Fell all Thy foes now ! 
 
 Roll forth Thy thunders. Thy lightning affright them, 
 
 Into the pit, the bottomless, smite them. 
 
 Their seed uproot, 
 
 Tread under foot! 
 Send then Thy snowy white dove peace-bringing, 
 Unto Thy faithful Thy token winging. 
 Olive-branch fair of Thy summer's fruition 
 After the deluge of sin's punition ! 
 
POEMS AND SONGS 
 HUNTING SONG 
 
 (from MARIA STUART) 
 
 IvouND US rolls the heather's sheen, 
 
 Heather's sheen, 
 'Neath the falcon of our queen, 
 
 Of our queen. 
 
 Birch and cherry balm exhale. 
 
 Balm exhale. 
 Loud our horns the cliffs assail. 
 
 Cliffs assail. 
 
 Light the air and clear the sky. 
 
 Clear the sky, — 
 Hurrah! onward, she is nigh, 
 
 She is nigh. 
 
 Hunt ye joy with every breath. 
 
 Every breath. 
 Hunt it to the stream of death. 
 
 Stream of death! 
 
TAYLOR'S SONG 89 
 
 TAYLOR'S SONG 
 
 (from MARIA STUART) 
 
 r OR joys the hours of earth bestow 
 
 With sorrow thou must pay. 
 Though many follow close, yet know, 
 
 They 're loaned but for a day. 
 With sighing in thy laughter's stead 
 
 Shall come a time of grief, 
 The load of usury bow thy head. 
 
 With loss of thy belief. 
 Mary Anne, Mary Anne, 
 Mary Anne, Mary Anne, 
 Hadst thou not smiled upon me, thou, 
 1 were not weeping now. 
 
 May God help him who never can 
 
 Give only half his soul; 
 The time comes surely for that man 
 
 To take the sorrow whole. 
 May God help him who was so glad, 
 
 That he cannot forget. 
 Help him who lost the all he had. 
 
 But not his reason yet. 
 Mary Anne, Mary Anne, 
 Mary Anne, Mary Anne, 
 The flowers that my life had grown, 
 Died out when thou wert gone. 
 
go POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 LECTOR THAASEN 
 
 1 READ once of a flower that lonely grew, 
 Apart, with trembling stem and pale of hue; 
 The mountain-world of cold and strife 
 
 Gave little life 
 
 And less of color. 
 
 A botanist the flower chanced to see 
 
 And glad exclaimed: Oh, this must sheltered be. 
 
 Must seed produce, renewing birth, 
 
 In sun-warmed earth 
 
 Become a thousand. 
 
 But as he dug and drew it from the ground. 
 Strange glitterings upon his hands he found; 
 For to its roots clung dust of golden hue ; 
 
 The flower grew 
 
 On golden treasure! 
 
 And from the region wide came all the youth 
 To see the wonder; they divined the truth: 
 Here lay their country's future might; 
 A ray of light 
 From God that flower! — 
 
 This I recall now even while I mourn; 
 The Lord of life has lifted him and borne 
 
DURING A JOURNEY IN SWEDEN 91 
 
 From mountain-cold and wintry air 
 To fruitage fair 
 In warmth eternal. 
 
 For where the roots were of that life replete, 
 What gleams and glitters! See, they ran to meet 
 The shafts of wisdom's goodly mines, 
 The gold that shines 
 In veins of God's thought. 
 
 Now he is lifted up, to light are brought 
 The riches he to guard so faithful sought. 
 The treasures of our past are there. 
 
 And glintings rare 
 
 Of future riches. 
 
 Come, Norway's youth! Unearth to use the hoard 
 That round this heaven-borne flower's roots was 
 
 stored ! 
 To you his message! Hear and heed! 
 
 Achieve in deed 
 
 His dream and longing! 
 
 DURING A JOURNEY IN SWEDEN 
 
 JVIy boyish heart in thee confided. 
 For to the great by thee 't was guided. 
 
 As man, my waiting is for thee, — 
 
 The Northern cause •with thee, with thee! 
 
92 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Rich lands and talents are thy dower, 
 But fallow lie thy wealth and power. 
 Thou must the North in concord bind., 
 Or never shalt thy true self find. 
 
 There 's longing in thy folk arisen, 
 Poetic hope — but yet in prison. 
 Though forces great within thee dwell, 
 Thou art not wholly sound and well. 
 
 Too many things are undertaken, 
 Too oft the task is soon forsaken. 
 Though rich in promptings of the heart. 
 In faith and duty faint thou art. 
 
 In danger only hast thou thriven, 
 When something great to guard was given. 
 When every breast with warmth shall glow 
 At Sweden's name, thy strength thou 'It know. 
 
 What 's thine alone lifts not thy feeling, 
 Till honor's cause the skies are pealing. 
 Thou hast no joy but daring deed 
 In fortune's favor or in need. 
 
 For thy fair memories inspiring 
 Are far too great, much more requiring: 
 The Northern cause! Lead thou the way! 
 ^T will double glory thee repay! 
 
THE TRYST 93 
 
 Of all thou canst, this is the greatest, 
 Thy duty earliest and latest. 
 Thy future rests in its embrace 
 With cure for ills that now abase. 
 
 Thou land of heart-born fancies thronging, 
 Thou land of poetry and longing, 
 Fill now thy heart, thy spirit free! 
 The Northern banner waits for thee! 
 
 THE TRYST 
 
 •Silent I 'm biding. 
 
 While softly gliding 
 Sink the still hours to eternity's sleep. 
 
 My fancies roaming 
 
 List in the gloaming: — 
 Will she the trysting now keep? 
 
 Winter is dreaming. 
 Bright stars are beaming. 
 
 Smiling their light through its cloud-veil 
 they pour. 
 Summer foretelling 
 Sweet love compelling; — 
 
 Dare she not meet me here more? 
 
 'Neath the ice lying, 
 Longing and sighing. 
 
94 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Ocean would wander and warmer lands woo. 
 
 Anchored ships swinging, 
 
 Sail-thoughts outflinging; — 
 Come we together, we two! 
 
 Whirling and falling, 
 
 Pictures enthralling, 
 Fairy-light made in the forest the snow; 
 
 Wood-folk are straying, 
 
 Shadows are playing; — 
 Was it your footstep? Oh, no! 
 
 Courage is failing. 
 
 Hoar frost assailing 
 Boughs of your longing surrounds with its spell. 
 
 But I dare enter, 
 
 Break to the center, 
 Where in dream-fetters you dwell. 
 
 SONG FOR THE STUDENTS' GLEE CLUB 
 
 JNow, brothers, sing out our song. 
 Whose train of light shall follow long ! 
 
 With love are its measures beating 
 
 And victory's joyous greeting. 
 While round about it flower-seeds 
 In will of youth shall grow to deeds ! 
 
 Our song has gone far and wide. 
 Bright mem'ries on our way abide, 
 
SONG FOR THE STUDENTS' GLEE CLUB 95 
 
 In flags flying, friends that love us, 
 In wreaths from fair hands above us, 
 In feasts where youth's full spirits stream. 
 Our nation's past, our nation's dream. 
 
 At Hold on a sunny day 
 
 That shot-torn flag of many a fray 
 
 Was waving above our singing, 
 
 Soul-fire to our music bringing. 
 The ardor of that glorious band. 
 Who died as heroes for our land. 
 
 To Arendal our summer-way 
 "For might and fame!" — remember aye! 
 The fleet on the bay was riding. 
 Our singer-ship through it gliding. 
 
 Our merchant-ships shall rule the wave! 
 
 This joyous hoisting-song we gave. 
 
 We gathered in Bergen town 
 
 Of ancient and of new renown. 
 The horns of our fathers greet us. 
 King Sverre comes forth to meet us; 
 
 But fresh and full the present spoke 
 
 In heartfelt song from all its folk. 
 
 Upsala, Copenhagen., Lund, 
 
 In each our song its garland won, 
 Fair fetters of music winding. 
 Harmonious the Northland binding; 
 
96 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Our mighty choral theme shall be 
 The Northern races' unity. 
 
 With courage, then, onward roam! 
 
 Where echo answers is our home. 
 Our past that we sing draws nearer, 
 Our future in song grows clearer, 
 
 E'en while we wander hand in hand 
 
 And summer sing into our land. 
 
 MRS. LOUISE BRUN 
 
 (JANUARY 30, 1866) 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 (Behind the scenes^ 
 
 Tarewell, farewell. 
 From friends, from all, from fatherland! 
 Your soul's calm power is from us riven. 
 Your words, your song, to spirit's praise 
 In art's glad temple given. 
 
 CHORUS OF MEN 
 
 We thank you that with youthful fire 
 
 You came the doubting to inspire. 
 
 Who anxious stood with strength untried! 
 
MRS. LOUISE BRUN 97 
 
 CHORUS OF WOMEN 
 
 We thank you that in morning-dawn 
 Your woman's tact and aid were drawn 
 Our boisterous youthful art to guide ! 
 
 ALL 
 
 Thanks for the spring of your life's year, 
 Thanks for the tones so sweet and clear, 
 Thanks for the tints of pearly hue, 
 That colored all you touched anew. 
 For all your noble life on earth, 
 
 Thanks, thanks! 
 And that you gave our calling worth, 
 
 Thanks, thanks ! 
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 'T is but a short time since we saw pass by 
 A picture drawn from life, austere and dark, 
 A soul in servitude to strong desires; 
 And all its life in prison-labor spent. 
 Although religion prays and sings its hymns, 
 And poetry and art their sunshine spread, 
 That soul in slavery toils, till white the hair. 
 
 She, in whose memory we gather here, 
 Was early made to feel by hard conditions. 
 That clouded life and rudely barred her soul, — 
 How men and women live as toiling slaves! 
 And she rebelled against this servitude; 
 Great powers gave birth to longings for the light; 
 
98 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Freedom she craved^ that others she might free! 
 
 With restless spirit outward went her quest 
 
 To people, books; but thoughtful she became, 
 
 As one whose search was vain; reserved and shy, 
 
 As one whose courage fails; — until one day 
 
 He^ who from fairy-tale and hero-legend 
 
 That wondrous bow received of magic might. 
 
 Stood up and to the vale and mountain played: 
 
 " Come forth, come from our nation's heart-deep forth, 
 
 Creative might, that in our nation's morning 
 
 Didst lift its image up to dread, to greatness. 
 
 In myths of Asas fair and giants grim ! 
 
 As mountain-walls lean o'er their own reflection. 
 
 In that thought-ocean we our life could see, 
 
 With spring, with winter, and with spring again. 
 
 Thou gav'st our image oft in song and story, 
 
 In times of darkness and in times of light; 
 
 Our image meets us wheresoe'er we go, — 
 
 But yet our nation sees it not, nor looks 
 
 Up from its toiling thoughts and dull routine! — 
 
 Oh, wake it, lift it, make it see itself! 
 
 Then shall it put to use the powers it owns ! " 
 
 And living echoes answered ! Lo, there swarmed 
 Elves of the Stage about him, as he played ! 
 They made the lamps to burn, and reared the grotto. 
 They brought and brushed the costumes Holberg knew. 
 And in them played their pranks "neath powdered wigs, — 
 Roamed on the fountains of a summer night 
 
MRS. LOUISE BRUN 99 
 
 And stole the saeter-maiden while she slept, 
 And filled with mortal fear the aged wooer! 
 They danced the goblin-dance in dusk of winter, 
 Played hide-and-seek with their own shadows; 
 They snared the hypocrite in his own sighs. 
 In his own web the pettifogger bound; 
 They scattered wide the hoard a miser gathered, 
 They tripped and threw the petty parish-pope ! 
 They saved the tears of innocence seduced 
 And on the altar laid as lustrous pearls; 
 They melted hatred in the ice-hard breast, 
 It fell as rain upon the enemy's fields; 
 They bound the slanderer, Mazeppa-like, 
 Upon the back of his wild calumnies; — 
 The crafty man of stealthy selfishness 
 They set afloat within an open boat; — 
 But one who freely gave himself, his all. 
 They bore to heaven upon their joyous laughter. 
 They drew the magic ring round those who loved. 
 And to the altar led the blushing pair. 
 They brought heroic forms from barrows old 
 To tower in might among the teeming present. 
 — There was not one could longer rest in peace; 
 Himself, his folly, all our country's need. 
 Wholeness victorious, halfness doomed to fail. 
 The power of honest faith, the wreck of doubt, — 
 All this our nation saw in its own image, 
 When strongly lighted on the Stage 'twas set. — 
 
30 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 And she was part of this ! The first full tone 
 Thrilled her breast too and woke a thousand mem'ries 
 Of something that she ne'er before had known ! 
 On that first evening, when the curtain rose, 
 With timid step one clad in white came forth 
 And begged for Norway's art, for our young drama 
 A home in Norway, — but with so great fear. 
 The gentle voice was trembling, dim the eyes; 
 Yet from the voice, the eyes, the form, the bearing 
 Was heard a promise in sweet modesty; 
 For she who spoke those first words on this Stage, 
 That maiden dark with eyes so deep and true, 
 Lo, it was she ! 
 
 And soon her art shone clear 
 And softly radiant through the evening hours. — ■■ 
 With fairy lightness fell its magic gleams 
 On hidden longings, sorrows half-concealed, — 
 But gently, tenderly. If joy she touched, 
 'T was always softly. But we all could feel 
 A stream of power so full, that if she had 
 In an unguarded hour let it flow free 
 With all its deep and swelling tide sincere. 
 It would have borne herself from earth away. 
 
 In truth, the calmness of her course through life 
 Was never weakness, but was strength controlled; 
 Was never fear, but veneration deep 
 For those whose souls are great : a model she 
 
MRS. LOUISE BRUN loi 
 
 For noble women as for forceful men, — 
 This wreath we weave for her pure memory. 
 
 But what she thus had early taught herself, 
 She taught to others. When upon the stage 
 She stood, depicting woman's painful conflict 
 With rudeness, violence, and wild desire. 
 Then, — though she wielded but a woman's weapons, 
 Her silent dignity, her subtle smile. 
 Her light derision, all-subduing laughter, — 
 A spirit-dawn gleamed from their flashing play. 
 To usher in a day of victory. 
 She barriers raised around the woman weak 
 (Down-trodden in a half-built social order). 
 She stood forth here so many an evening-hour 
 And talked to thousands of a woman's worth. 
 Although her call was not fully to free 
 All that a woman's heart may hope and dream. 
 She shielded it secure in all its beauty. 
 
 This conflict made her reticent, severe; — 
 But sometimes in a song her spirit could 
 Send forth glad tidings, messages of freedom. 
 Her large free soul revealing. Then we heard 
 Such longing after full, unbroken peace, 
 Our thoughts were captive held by sad foreboding. — 
 
 'T is now come true ! — The crape of mourning droops 
 About her name, the tolling bell is still. 
 Her final summons gather us once more 
 
I02 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Before her stage, and here our thanks we utter 
 For what she gave us. So as she had given, 
 Has no one given. She gave of her sorrow. 
 With bleeding heart beneath her winsome smile. 
 She shared with us the tears her conflict brought, 
 The radiant glory of her victory. 
 
 Thanks, prayer-borne thanks, you noble soul, 
 From all your brothers, from your sisters all ! 
 From Norway's youthful art enduring thanks! 
 From women to their pure interpreter 
 Farewell and thanks! — From all those whom you lifted 
 On pinions of the spirit high to beauty 
 Once more a wreath is brought, — it is the last. 
 
 {Laying it before the bust) 
 
 Now God in His bright heaven makes you glad, 
 And we will make you glad with good remembrance. 
 
 CHORUS 
 {Behind the scenes, softly) 
 Farewell, farewell ! 
 Now in your grave 
 No want is known; 
 But what you gave, 
 We ever own. 
 Your spirit's seed 
 Shall blossom here. 
 Bear fruit in deed. 
 And sad hearts cheer. 
 
TO JOHAN DAHL, BOOKDEALER 103 
 
 TO JOHAN DAHL, BOOKDEALER 
 
 (on his sixtieth birthday) 
 
 Our glasses we lift now and drink to our host! 
 
 "Hurrah!" 
 Give heed to our ditty, we sing you our toast ! 
 
 "Aha!" 
 The first thing appearing is what he was nearing, 
 When uproar not fearing he came for a hearing 
 'Fore skerry-bred eagle 
 And Wergeland regal. 
 Oh! Ha! 
 
 He came like an innocent spring-lambkin ewe-born, 
 
 Oh, woe! 
 So neat and so fine in his guilelessness new-born 
 
 Like snow. 
 The flesh so delicious was chopped up to farce-meat, 
 And later by Wergeland found for a farce meet. 
 And gayly 't was swallowed. 
 And all the bones hollowed 
 And strown. 
 
 But swift as Thor's he-goats to life again skipping. 
 
 He sprang 
 Whole skinned together, and gave them a whipping 
 
 That rang. 
 This made him seem worthy to join the gay party, 
 At once they received him in fellowship hearty! 
 
104 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 And soon was no other 
 More loved as a brother 
 Than Dahl. 
 
 The light from his shop spread afar and made 
 brighter 
 
 Our day. 
 His drawing-room gathered so many a fighter 
 
 In play. 
 Our taste there was made and our critical passion, 
 The shop was a power, new Norway to fashion. 
 Though little, its story 
 Shall some time in glory 
 Be writ. 
 
 For what you have kindled, endured, and aspired. 
 
 Our thanks ! 
 For hearts you have gladdened and souls you have 
 fired. 
 
 Our thanks ! 
 For all your good faith in your fervor and ranting. 
 Yes, for your whole-heartedness free from all cant- 
 ing, 
 
 You whimsical, queer one. 
 Old fellow, you dear one. 
 Our thanks! 
 
TO SCULPTOR BORCH 105 
 
 TO SCULPTOR BORCH 
 
 (on his fiftieth birthday) 
 
 With friends you stalwart stand and fair, 
 
 To-day of fifty years the heir; 
 
 The past your works rejoicing praise. 
 
 But forward goes your gaze. 
 
 Your childlike faith, your spirit true, 
 
 Your hand that never weary grew, 
 
 A home's sweet music, love of wife. 
 
 Make ever young your life. 
 
 You dared believe with heart alive 
 That here in Norway art can thrive. 
 You forced the hardness of our stones 
 To harmony of tones. 
 You laid our wild world's secrets bare 
 And caught "The Hunter" near the lair. 
 Our nation's moods, of beauty born, 
 Your " Girl with Eggs " adorn. 
 
 As o'er a slope's snow-covered brow 
 A youth came swiftly flying now, 
 You saw him, raised your hand, and lo ! 
 He stood there, chiseled snow. 
 But your "Ski-runner's" courage good. 
 It was your own, when forth you stood 
 Art's champion by the world unawed. 
 And with your faith in God. 
 
io6 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 You won your victory supreme 
 
 Through rock-like faith and will's full stream; 
 
 While with unnumbered hours of rest 
 
 Your love has others blessed. 
 
 Were all now here from west and east 
 
 Whose hearts you own, oh, what a feast! 
 
 From Akershus the convicts e'en 
 
 Would bear a freeman's mien. 
 
 Now we whose lives with good you filled 
 
 For you to-day a palace build. 
 
 On heights of heart's-ease lifting square 
 
 Its golden tower of prayer. 
 
 In peace you oft shall dwell in it. 
 
 Whene'er you need to rest a bit. 
 
 And feel through them who hold you dear 
 
 Yourself to heaven near. 
 
 Long since our country to you gave 
 The meed of thanks that most you crave; 
 It gave a maid with golden hair, 
 Its springtime's image fair. 
 She came from where the fairies dwell. 
 With nixie's charm and wood-nymph's spell. 
 With peace all holy, sweet, and calm. 
 To sing of life the psalm. 
 
 So may your life yet long endure 
 To light our land, your home secure ! 
 
THE SPINNER 107 
 
 May all that from your heart you gave, 
 Still blossom on your grave! 
 May God's protecting mercy hold 
 Your spirit ever fresh and bold, — 
 May He to genius oft impart 
 Just such a mind and heart! 
 
 THE SPINNER 
 
 vJh, what was it he meant 
 By his question as he went? 
 "I am making a loom, 
 'T will be up in April's bloom; 
 If you think it may be, 
 Spin for me ! " 
 
 Oh, what shall I believe ? 
 Does he think himself to weave ? 
 
 And the yarn that I spin, 
 Lo, he thinks to weave it in ? 
 
 And so soon as the Spring 
 Flowers shall bring? 
 
 And he laughed when he 'd done; 
 Oh, he is so full of fun. 
 
 Dare I trust all my skein 
 To so young and wild a swain? — 
 
 May God help to bind in 
 All I spin! 
 
io8 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 THE WHITE ROSE AND THE RED ROSE 
 
 The white rose and the red rose, 
 So sisters two were named, yes, named. 
 The white one was so quiet. 
 The red one laughed and flamed. 
 But different was their doing, yes, 
 When came the time of wooing, yes. 
 The white one turned so red, so red, 
 The red one turned so white. 
 
 For him the red one favored. 
 
 Him father would not bless, not bless. 
 
 But him the white one favored. 
 
 He got at once his "Yes." 
 
 The red one now was paling, yes. 
 
 With sorrow, psalms, and wailing, yes. 
 
 The white one turned so red, so red. 
 
 The red one turned so white. 
 
 Then father grew so fearful 
 
 And had to give his "Yes," oh, yes! 
 
 With songs and music cheerful 
 
 The wedding rang, oh, yes ! 
 
 And soon sprang children rosen, yes. 
 
 In shoes and little hosen, yes. 
 
 The red one's, they were white, — and oh. 
 
 The white one's, they were red. 
 
YOUTH 109 
 
 YOUTH 
 
 JVlooD of youth, 
 
 Mood of youth, 
 Eagle-like must seek the blue, 
 Dauntlessly its course pursue, 
 All the mountain-heights must view. 
 
 Blood of youth. 
 
 Blood of youth. 
 Steam-like puts full-speed to sea. 
 E'en though storm and ice there be. 
 Makes its way and romps in glee. 
 
 Dream of youth. 
 
 Dream of youth. 
 Rogue-like stealing sets its snare 
 In the maiden's morning-prayer; 
 All the springtime, fragrant, glowing. 
 In its airy waves is flowing. 
 
 Joy of youth, 
 
 Joy of youth. 
 Waterfall-like foams in truth, 
 Laughing, rainbow-gifts forth flashing, 
 Even while to death 't is dashing. 
 
 Joy of youth. 
 
 Dream of youth. 
 
 Blood of youth. 
 
 Mood of youth. 
 Clothe the world with colors golden. 
 Singing songs that never olden. 
 
no POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 THE BLONDE MAIDEN 
 
 Though she depart, a vision flitting, 
 
 If I these thoughts in words exhale: 
 I love you, you blonde maiden, sitting 
 Within your pure white beauty's veil. 
 I love you for your blue eyes dreaming, 
 
 Like moonlight moving over snow. 
 And 'mid the far-off forests beaming 
 On something hid I may not know. 
 
 I love this forehead's fair perfection 
 Because it stands so starry-clear, 
 In flood of thought sees its reflection 
 And wonders at the image near. 
 I love these locks in riot risen 
 
 Against the hair-net's busy bands; 
 To free them from their pretty prison 
 Their sylphs entice my eyes and hands. 
 
 I love this figure's supple swinging 
 
 In rhythm of its bridal song. 
 Of strength and life-joy daily singing 
 
 With youthful yearnings deep and long. 
 I love this foot so lightly bearing 
 
 The glory of sure victory 
 Through youth's domain of merry daring 
 To meet first-love that hers shall be. 
 
GOOD-MORNING 1 1 1 
 
 I love these hands, these lips enchanting, 
 
 With them the God of love 's allied. 
 With them the apple-prize is granting. 
 But guards them, too, lest aught betide. 
 I love you and must say it ever. 
 
 Although you heed not what you 've heard, 
 But flee and answer: maidens never 
 May put their trust in poet's word. 
 
 THE FIRST MEETING 
 (from the fisher maiden) 
 
 1 HE first fond meeting holy 
 Is like the woodbirds' trilling. 
 Is like a sea-song thrilling. 
 When red the sun sinks slowly, — 
 Is like a horn on mountain, 
 That wakes time's sleep thereunder 
 And summons to life's fountain 
 To meet in nature's wonder. 
 
 GOOD-MORNING 
 
 (FROM THE FISHER MAIDEN) 
 
 Uay 's coming up now, joy 's returned, 
 Sorrow's dark cloud-castles captured and burned; 
 Over the mountain-tops glowing 
 Light-king his armies is throwing. 
 
POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 "Up now, up now!" calls the bird, 
 " Up now, up now ! " child-voice heard, 
 Up now my hope in sunshine. 
 
 MY FATHERLAND 
 (from the fisher maiden)' 
 
 1 WILL fight for my land, 
 
 I will work for my land. 
 Will it foster with love, in my faith, in my child. 
 
 I will eke every gain, 
 
 I will seek boot for bane. 
 From its easternmost bound to the western sea wild, 
 
 Here is sunshine enough, 
 
 Here is seed-earth enough. 
 If by us, if by us all love's duty were done. 
 
 Here is will to create; 
 
 Though our burdens be great. 
 We can lift up our land, if we all lift as one. 
 
 In the past we went wide 
 
 O'er the sea's surging tide, 
 And the Norman's high walls stand on many a shore. 
 
 But our flag flies its way 
 
 Ever farther to-day 
 And is red with life's vigor as never before. 
 
CHOICE 113 
 
 Great our future shall be; 
 
 For the Northern lands three 
 Shall unite once again and their true selves shall know. 
 
 Give your strength and your deed, 
 
 Where you nearest see need, 
 As a brook to the river that forward shall flow. 
 
 Yes, this land where we dwell. 
 
 Oh, we love it so well, 
 All it was, all it is, all it can be again. 
 
 As our love had its birth 
 
 In this home-land's dear earth, 
 Shall the seed of our love bring it increase again. 
 
 CHOICE 
 
 April for me I choose! 
 In it the old things tumble, 
 In it things new refresh us; 
 It makes a mighty rumble, — 
 But peace is not so precious 
 As that his will man shows. 
 
 April for me I choose, 
 Because it storms and scourges. 
 Because it smiles and blesses. 
 Because its power purges. 
 Because it strength possesses, — 
 In it the summer grows. 
 
114 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 NORWEGIAN SEAMEN'S SONG 
 (for the stavanger regatta, 1868) 
 
 rSoRWEGiAN seamen are 
 
 A folk grown strong 'neath sail and spar; 
 
 Where boats can find a way, 
 
 The best men there are they. 
 
 On high seas or at home. 
 
 In calm or when the storm-waves comb. 
 
 To God their prayer they make, 
 
 Their lives they gladly stake. 
 
 Incessant is their strife. 
 
 They wage with death a war for life. 
 
 And dear their souls they sell 
 
 In conflicts none can tell. 
 
 All that is commonplace 
 
 In history seldom leaves its trace. 
 
 And often none is there. 
 
 The tidings home to bear. 
 
 But fishing-boats in need 
 
 Have shown so many a daring deed 
 
 Of courage fine and skill, 
 
 Though unrecorded still. 
 
 And many a seaman's head 
 
 A wreath of sea-weed wore when dead. 
 
 Whose name should shine in gold 
 
 Among great heroes bold. 
 
NORWEGIAN SEAMEN'S SONG 115 
 
 Saint Olaf's Cross's praise 
 
 Would on that pilot fitly blaze 
 
 Who saved a hundred men, 
 
 And hundred once again. 
 
 To many a boy so young, 
 
 Who riding home to boat's keel clung. 
 
 His father set on board, 
 
 We honor should accord. 
 
 In Norway's mountain-coast 
 
 Our land's own mother-breast we boast, 
 
 With food for us and tears 
 
 For sons whom danger nears. 
 
 In it each deed has lot. 
 
 And there no brave son is forgot. 
 
 From Hafurfjord's great day 
 
 To the last castaway. 
 
 This each one felt and found 
 
 Who homeward came and looked around; 
 
 This each one felt who went. 
 
 In the last look he sent. 
 
 They felt the ocean o'er: 
 
 Their ships our country's fortune bore; 
 
 Honor and power it sought, — 
 
 And these the white sails brought. 
 
 Hurrah for them to-day 
 
 Who the Norwegian flag display ! 
 
ii6 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Hurrah for pilots true 
 
 Who forth to meet them flew! 
 
 Hurrah for them who ply 
 
 Their fishing-boats 'twixt sea and sky! 
 
 Hurrah for all our boast, 
 
 Our skerry-skirted coast! 
 
 HALFDAN KJERULF 
 
 (1868) 
 
 Winter had sought his life's tree to o'erthrow, 
 Youthful and strong. But his blood's vernal flow 
 Saved it from death through the cold and the maiming ; 
 Late in the summer bright flowers were flaming, 
 Late in the autumn they swelled to completeness, — 
 Fruits that were few, but of fragrance and sweetness. 
 
 Poets received them to endless seed-sowing. 
 Where for his folk endless summer is glowing, — 
 While more and more. 
 
 Stricken he hung o'er the death-river's shore. 
 Fighting in weakness the winter abhorred. 
 Fighting for summer, the singer's reward. 
 Fighting while failing, with modesty rare. 
 Soon but in prayer. 
 
NORWEGIAN STUDENTS' GREETING 117 
 
 Summer received him! He now is victorious! 
 Now, while they harvest the yellowing corn, 
 Now, while the hills hear the notes of the horn. 
 He enters glorious. 
 
 Mirrored in him is true poetry's force, 
 Marked by our winter, in summer its source. 
 E'en as the air with its quivering sheen. 
 Leaves of the forests and red peaks serene, 
 Waters that wander 'mid meadows delaying 
 Sound with the music the sunshine is playing, — 
 Poetry also shall leap with new life, 
 If it, though failing, is faithful in strife : — 
 Leap from death's thronging: — 
 Soon comes the summer with summer's pure longing. 
 
 NORWEGIAN STUDENTS' GREETING 
 WITH A PROCESSION 
 
 TO PROFESSOR WELHAVEN 
 
 itIear us, O age-laden singer! 
 Streams of your tones are returning. 
 
 Touching your heart ! 
 Spirit of youth is their bringer. 
 Under your window with yearning 
 
 Called by your art. 
 
ii8 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Now our soul's echoes abounding 
 
 Soar in the blue, 
 In the sun-shimmering blue, 
 High where your silvery song-notes are 
 sounding. 
 
 Smile on your labor now lightened, 
 You who in winter perfected 
 
 Seeds to be sown ! 
 All that your courage has brightened, 
 All that your pity protected, 
 
 Now it is grown; 
 Over your shoulders upswinging. 
 
 Folds round your frame. 
 Bringing in roses your name. 
 Joyous the sprite of your poetry bringing. 
 
 Onward our life is now marching. 
 Banner-like high thoughts are flying. 
 
 Lifted to view. 
 One 'mid the foremost o'erarching 
 Leads where the pathway is lying, — 
 
 It came from you! 
 Runes of our past with their warning 
 
 Carved on its shaft. 
 Show us the spring you have quaffed, 
 Leading our land to the light of the morning. 
 
FORWARD 119 
 
 FOR A CHARITY FAIR 
 
 (in A COPY OF MINOR PIECES) 
 
 OOME poor man in need 
 
 To bless and to feed, 
 
 I bring at its worth, 
 
 This day of my birth, 
 
 A book, — from my youth I must own. 
 
 But Who in His power • 
 
 Gave bud and gave flower. 
 
 To bread can transform 
 
 In want's winter-storm 
 
 Each leaf that my Springtime has grown. 
 
 FORWARD 
 
 " r ORWARD ! forward ! " 
 Rang our fathers' battle-cry. 
 "Forward! forward!" 
 Norsemen, be our watchword high ! 
 All that fires the spirit and makes the heart's faith bright, 
 For that we forward go with might 
 And faithful fight. 
 
 "Forward! forward!" 
 Whoso loves a home that 's free. 
 
 "Forward! forward!" 
 Freedom's course must ever be. 
 
so POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Though it shall be tested by doubt and by defeat, 
 Who will the losses' count repeat 
 When vict'ries greet? 
 
 "Forward! forward!" 
 Whoso trusts in Norway's day. 
 
 "Forward! forward!" 
 Whoso goes our fathers' way. 
 Hid in Northern mountains are spirit-treasures true, 
 They shall, when dawns the morning's blue. 
 Come forth anew. 
 
 THE MEETING 
 
 (at the student meeting of 1869) 
 
 1 HOUGHTS toward one another coursing 
 
 To their pole must run. 
 Hearts that meet, all bonds are forcing. 
 
 Like the springtime sun. 
 Though to-day too heavy sorrow 
 
 Dull the mind of youth, 
 Higher on the meeting's morrow 
 
 Roll the tides of truth. 
 
 Though each man with courage fired 
 
 Hundreds forward bore. 
 Though a thousand died inspired, 
 
 There is need of more. 
 
NORSE NATURE i 
 
 May a Northern Spring come blowing 
 
 Over wood and field, 
 Wake the hundred thousands, knowing 
 
 Meeting-hour revealed! 
 
 Hail ! A Northern day is written 
 
 In the brightening sky; 
 Darksome dread, that erst had smitten. 
 
 Flees, now dawn is nigh. 
 After Gjallar-horn blasts hollow, 
 
 Tears and shame and blood. 
 As so often, now shall follow 
 
 Full the spirit's flood. 
 
 In our people's life deep-seated 
 
 This is felt each day: 
 Who grows stronger when defeated, 
 
 Victor stands for aye. 
 Our Spring-meeting's fullness swells now, 
 
 Bearing prophecy 
 Of the Spring whose hope upwells now: 
 
 Hail, the Northern three! 
 
 NORSE NATURE 
 
 (in ringerike during the student 
 meeting of 1869) 
 
 We wander and sing with glee 
 Of glorious Norway, fair to see. 
 
POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Let sweetly the tones go twining 
 
 In colors so softly shining 
 On mountain, forest, fjord, and shore, 
 'Neath heaven's azure arching o'er. 
 
 The warmth of the nation's heart, 
 
 The depth, the strength, its songs impart. 
 Here opens its eyes to greet you, 
 Rejoicing just now to meet you. 
 
 And giving, grateful for the chance. 
 
 In love a self-revealing glance. 
 
 Here wakened our history first. 
 Here Halfdan dreamed of greatness erst. 
 In vision of hope beholding 
 The kingdom's future unfolding. 
 And Nore stood and summons gave. 
 While forth to conquest called the wave. 
 
 Here singing we must unroll 
 Of our dear land the pictured scroll ! 
 Let calm turn to storm of wildness. 
 Bring might into bonds of mildness : 
 Then Norsemen mustering, each shall see 
 This is our land's whole history. 
 
 To them first our way we wing. 
 The hundred harbors in the spring. 
 Where follow fond love and yearning. 
 When sea-ward the ships are turning. 
 
NORSE NATURE 123 
 
 For Norway's weal pure prayers exhale 
 From sixty thousand men that sail. 
 
 See sloping the skerried coasts, 
 With gulls and whales and fishing-posts, 
 And vessels in shelter riding, 
 While boats o'er the sea are gliding. 
 And nets in fjord and seines in sound. 
 And white with spawn the ocean's ground. 
 
 See Lofoten's tumult grand. 
 
 Where tow'ring cliffs in ocean stand. 
 
 Whose summits the fogs are cleaving, 
 
 Beneath them the surges heaving. 
 And all is darkness, mystery, dread. 
 But 'mid the tumult sails are spread. 
 
 Here ships of the Arctic sea; 
 
 Through snow and gloom their course must be; 
 Commands from the masthead falling 
 The boats toward the ice are calling; 
 
 And shot on shot and seal on seal. 
 
 And souls and bodies strong as steel. 
 
 On mountains we now shall guest, 
 
 When eventide to all brings rest, 
 In dairy on highland meadow, 
 On hay-field 'neath slanting shadow. 
 
 While to the alphorn's tender tone 
 
 Great Nature's voice responds alone. 
 
1 24 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 But quickly we must away, 
 If all the land we would survey, — 
 The mines of our metal treasures, 
 The hills of our hunters' pleasures. 
 The foam-white river's rush and noise, 
 The timber-driver's foot-sure poise. 
 
 Returning, we linger here, 
 These valleys broad to us are dear, 
 Whose men in their faithful living 
 To Norway are honor giving; 
 Their fathers, strong in brain and brawn. 
 Lent luster to our morning-dawn. 
 
 We wander and sing with glee 
 Of glorious Norway fair to see. 
 Our present to labor binds us, 
 Each how of the past reminds us, 
 Our future shall be sure and bright. 
 As God we trust and do the right. 
 
 I PASSED BY THE HOUSE 
 
 1 PASSED by the house one summer day, 
 Morning sunshine upon it lay; 
 Toward the windows that blood-red burned 
 Flaming my soul was turned, was turned. 
 
 There spring had found me 
 
 And captive bound me 
 
THOSE WITH ME 125 
 
 To lissome hands and soft lips enthralling, 
 To smiles now stained by the teardrops falling. 
 
 Till the view from my vision dies, 
 To it backward I send my eyes; 
 All that was becomes new and near. 
 The forgotten grows warm and dear; 
 
 Mem'ries wander, 
 
 While this I ponder, 
 
 And from the springtime all love's sweet dreaming 
 
 Forward and back in my soul is streaming. 
 
 Joyous that time and joyous now. 
 Sorrow that time and sorrow now. 
 Sun on meadows bedewed appears. 
 Soul in mem'ries of smiles and tears. 
 
 When they waking 
 
 Their bounds are breaking. 
 
 When streams their ebbing with sinking power, 
 
 The soul bears poetry's bud and flower. 
 
 THOSE WITH ME 
 
 As on I drive, in my heart joy dwells 
 Of Sabbath silence with sound of bells. 
 The sun lifts all that is living, growing, 
 God's love itself in its symbol showing. 
 To church pass people from near and far. 
 Soon psalms ascend from the door ajar. 
 
126 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 — Good cheer! Your greeting hailed more than me, 
 But that in hastening you failed to see. 
 
 Here 's goodly company with me riding, 
 
 Though oft they cunningly keep in hiding; 
 
 But when you saw me so Sunday-glad, 
 
 It was because of the mates I had. 
 
 And when you heard me so softly singing, 
 
 The tones attuned to their hearts were ringing. 
 
 One soul is here of such priceless worth. 
 
 For me she offered her all on earth; 
 
 Yes, she who smiled in my boat storm-driven. 
 
 And blanched not, braving the waves wind-riven. 
 
 In whose white arms that in love caressed me 
 
 Full warmth of life and of faith possessed me. 
 
 The snail in this I am like when faring, — 
 
 My home I ever am with me bearing; 
 
 And who believes it is burdensome. 
 
 He ought to learn how it 's good to come 
 
 And creep in under the roof thereafter, 
 
 Where she gives light amid children's laughter. 
 
 No poet paints nor can thinker tell 
 
 So vast a vault or so deep a well. 
 
 As where the glory of God's own love 
 
 On cradle-mirror falls from above. 
 
 Your soul is brighter, your heart more tender. 
 
 When by the cradle your thanks you render. 
 
THOSE WITH ME 127 
 
 Who knows not love in the small and near, 
 The many in memory hold not dear. 
 Who cannot build him a house his own, 
 What towers he builds will be soon o'erthrown. 
 From Moscow victor to Carthagena, 
 He vanquished dies on his Saint Helena. 
 
 When such a stronghold you 've reared with labor. 
 It often safely protects your neighbor; 
 Though work of woman's and children's hands, 
 Your soul finds strength where that, fortress stands. 
 You go hence braver to battle-dangers, 
 Can courage give unto countless strangers. 
 
 One home bore often a whole land's fate. 
 And sent the hero who saved the state; 
 Thousands of homes, when the war was o'er. 
 The land delivered in safety bore. 
 So bear it onward in peace and beauty 
 The hearts of homes beating true to duty. 
 
 Though foreign perfumes be fine and rare, 
 
 Still pure alone is the home's sweet air. 
 
 Naught meets you there but the childlike, truthful. 
 
 And sin is kissed from your forehead ruthful. 
 
 To heaven's home leads its door ajar. 
 
 For thence it came and it lies not far. 
 
 Good cheer, to church on your way not staying! 
 For those we love we shall both be praying; 
 
128 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 In prayer together the way we wander 
 
 That leads from this to the home up yonder. 
 
 You enter in; I must journey far, 
 
 While follow psalms from the door ajar. 
 
 Good cheer ! Your greeting hailed more than me, 
 
 But that in hastening you failed to see. 
 
 TO MY FATHER 
 
 (upon his retirement) 
 
 In all the land our race was once excelling. 
 
 In richer regions it e'en now possesses 
 
 Broad seats and fruitful; but by fate's hard stresses 
 
 Our branch was bent and bowed to blows compelling. 
 
 Now toward the light again it lifts aloft 
 
 Its top, and fresh buds crown it, fair and soft. 
 
 The flowing fountain oi your faith has laved it. 
 
 To life's late evening thus your strength has saved it. 
 
 As rests the race in time of chill and rigor. 
 And from the deeps that lie within its being 
 Draws to it what alone can nourish, freeing 
 Its powers to full prophecy of vigor, — 
 So I divined the unseen stir in you 
 Of nature's might that you could not subdue; 
 It was so strong, from sire to son surviving, 
 In mystery mute descends this power's striving. 
 
TO MY FATHER 129 
 
 Upon this poured its radiant warmth pervading 
 My mother's soul ; of wedded joy the glory 
 Crowns not alone your aged heads and hoary; 
 But it shall death outlive in light unfading. 
 And if my people ever truly prize 
 The pictured home that in my writings lies, 
 Honor of love and faith serene, unbroken, — 
 Of father, mother, both, shall praise be spoken. 
 
 If men remember the Norwegian peasant. 
 
 As from the field of toil or saga fateful 
 
 I conjured him; to you they shall be grateful, 
 
 Father, in whom love let me find him present. 
 
 And if the woman whom I made them view 
 
 In sun-like splendid faith and spirit true, 
 
 By women is approved, it is the other 
 
 Who has their homage, my sweet-natured mother. 
 
 And now you'll rest the evening long and cheery 
 From the day's work in fair or troubled weather. 
 And of the by-gone time you'll talk together. 
 Of many a mile you trod with footsteps weary, — 
 Now will as sunlight on the winter's snow, 
 A warmth of thanks in through the window glow, 
 Harsh memories mellow with its golden shining, 
 Your life in faith complete find its refining. 
 
 But none gives thanks as now that son in glad- 
 ness. 
 For whom you lived in anxious fear unceasing. 
 
130 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Since forth he flew with strength of wing increasing, 
 For whom to God you prayed in joy and sadness. 
 Oh, know, when hot my blood burned over-much, 
 I felt your soothing hands my forehead touch, 
 And oft, my heart in mute repentance bleeding. 
 In thoughts of you I heard God's gentle pleading. 
 
 And so -I pray that I may have the power 
 
 (Since we again for life shall be united, 
 
 And hope 'mid mirthful mem'ries be relighted), 
 
 To brighten now their every evening-hour! 
 
 When children's children in their arms shall be. 
 
 Oh, let them morning in their evening see! 
 
 So shall they gladly lay, when death gives warning, 
 
 Their gray heads down to greet the dawning morning. 
 
 TO ERIKA LIE 
 
 When Norse nature's dower 
 Tones will paint with power, 
 
 There is more than mountain-heights that 
 tower, — 
 Plains spread wide-extending. 
 Whereon at their wending 
 
 Summer nights soft dews are sending. 
 
 Forests great are growing, 
 And in long waves going 
 Glommen's valley fill to overflowing, — 
 
TO ERIKA LIE 131 
 
 There are green slopes vernal, 
 Glad with joy fraternal, 
 Open to the light supernal. 
 
 For revealing wholly 
 
 All things fine and holy — 
 As in sunshine birds are soaring slowly, 
 
 Or, their spells transmitting, 
 
 Northern Lights are flitting, — 
 None but maiden-hands are fitting. 
 
 Your hands came, and playing. 
 
 O'er their secrets straying 
 Picture after picture are portraying. 
 
 As the poet dreamed them, 
 
 In soul-travail teemed them, 
 Till your artist hands redeemed them. 
 
 Now their light far-flinging 
 
 We see flashing, swinging, 
 Sparks as from your father's humor springing; 
 
 Now there meets us nigher. 
 
 Mirroring the higher. 
 Mother's eye of softer fire. 
 
 Child-heart tones are holding 
 
 All our minds and molding. 
 So its faith the wide world is enfolding. 
 
 While your sweet sounds sally. 
 
 Truth to tell and rally. 
 Maiden blonde from Glommen's valley. 
 
1 32 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 AT MICHAEL SARS'S GRAVE 
 
 xLvER he would roam 
 
 Toward th' eternal home; 
 From the least life deep in ocean 
 To each gleam of stars in motion, 
 
 Worth of all he weighed. 
 
 Now the Lord lends aid. 
 
 Still he passed beyond, 
 Softly dreaming; fond 
 
 Nature met him as her lover. 
 
 God with strength his soul shall cover 
 'Mid the starry throng 
 Through the spheres' pure song. 
 
 Even here on earth 
 
 Harmony's sweet birth — 
 When discovery new truth sunders, 
 When the small reveals its wonders — 
 
 Filled his soul with song 
 
 For the ages long. 
 
 Where his watch he kept. 
 Eyes a hundred swept. 
 Where millenniums sand assembled. 
 Where the tiniest life-pulse trembled. 
 There he sought the clue, 
 Silent, wise, and true. 
 
TO JOHAN SVERDRUP 133 
 
 In a water glass 
 
 Searching he saw pass 
 All the ocean's life; his thinking 
 To unfathomed deeps was sinking; 
 
 Where lay riddles locked, 
 
 There he came and knocked. 
 
 Fair our fatherland, 
 
 While such faith shall stand! 
 With an eye so true and tender, 
 With a sense so fine for splendor 
 
 In the small and still, — 
 
 Great ends we fulfil! 
 
 TO JOHAN SVERDRUP 
 
 When now my song selects and praises 
 Your forceful name, think not it raises 
 The rallying-flag for battle near; 
 The street-fight shall not reach us here. 
 
 If sacred poetry's fair hill 
 Lies open to assassination, — 
 Is this the newer revelation, 
 Then I withdraw and hold me still. 
 Then I the words of Einar borrow, 
 When southern change of kings brought 
 
 sorrow. 
 And Harald's hosts their ravage spread: 
 I follow rather Magnus dead 
 
134 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Than Harald living thus, — and then 
 I sail away with ships and men. 
 
 Nor therefore do I lift anew 
 The flag of song just now for you, 
 Because my spirit's deepest yearning 
 To you for new light now is turning. 
 No, where the greatest questions started, 
 Just there it is our ways were parted — 
 From where the deepest thought can reach. 
 To plan and goal of daily speech. 
 My childhood's faith unshaken stands. 
 And thence our equal rights deriving, 
 I for a people free am striving 
 And brotherhood in kindred lands. 
 Though both of us are Christian men. 
 So wide a gulf between us lies; 
 Though both are true Norwegian men. 
 We Norway see with different eyes. 
 If but to-day we victory gain. 
 We must to-morrow fight amain. 
 
 But now I honor you in singing. 
 Because what ought just now to be 
 With strongest will you clearly see. 
 And foremost to the fight are springing. 
 When sinks the land 'neath heavy fogs 
 And no fair prospect cheers the eye, 
 The thickening air our breathing clogs, 
 Yes, all things dull in torpor lie, — 
 
TO JOHAN SVERDRUP 135 
 
 Then mounts your mind with freest motion, 
 Its thunder-wings the mist-banks driving, 
 Its lightning-talons cloud-walls riving, 
 Till sunlight spreads o'er land and ocean. 
 Tou are the freshening shower clean 
 Upon our sluggish day's routine. 
 You are the salt sea-current poured 
 Into each close and sultry fjord. 
 Your speech a mine-shaft is, deep-going 
 To where the veins of ore are showing. 
 And by your flashing eyes far-sighted 
 The past is for our future lighted. 
 So long as Sverre's sword you wield. 
 So long as you our hosts are heading. 
 We know we '11 win on every field ; 
 Foes flee, your battle trumpet dreading. 
 We see their struggling ranks soon rifted, 
 We see them set so many a snare: 
 Your head unharmed in thought's pure air 
 Above the waves of war is lifted. 
 We love you for this courage good, 
 That e'er before the banner stood. 
 We love the strength you boldly stored 
 In your self-forged and tempered sword. 
 Your vigilance we love and prize. 
 That sickness, slander, loss defies, 
 We love you, that at duty's call 
 You gave your peace, your future, all, 
 
136 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 We love you still — hate cannot cleave! — 
 Because you dared in us believe. 
 
 How can they hope that backward here 
 Our land shall go ? No, year by year, 
 Forward in freedom and in song. 
 Forward the truly Norse disclosing. 
 What might can now avail, opposing 
 The travail of the centuries long? 
 People and power no more divided; 
 In peace to save or war to kill. 
 Our freedom with one guard provided. 
 One nation only and one will. 
 
 The spirit of our nation's morn. 
 The unity of free gods dreaming. 
 And all things great to be great deeming, 
 Forever must the spurious scorn. 
 The spirit that impelled the viking 
 'Gainst kingly power for freedom striking,- 
 That, threatened, sailed to Iceland strong 
 With hero-fame and hero-song. 
 And further on through all the ages, — 
 That spirit never dwells in cages. 
 The spirit that at Hjorung broke 
 For thousand years the foreign yoke. 
 By might of king ne'er made to cower. 
 Defying e'en the papal power, — 
 The spirit that, to weakness worn. 
 Held free our soil with rights unshorn. 
 
TO JOHAN SVERDRUP 137 
 
 Held free, with tongue and hand combined, 
 
 'Gainst foreign host and foreign mind, — 
 
 By which our Holberg's wit was whetted. 
 
 And Wessel's sword and Wessel's pen. 
 
 And to whose silent forge indebted 
 
 The thoughts that armed our Eidsvold-men, — 
 
 The spirit that in faith so high 
 
 Through Odin could to God draw nigh, 
 
 As bridge the myth of Balder threw, 
 
 And almost found the free way new 
 
 To truth's fair home in radiant Gimle, 
 
 When this was closed and warded grimly 
 
 By monkish lies and papal speech, — 
 
 That threw a second bridge to reach 
 
 On freedom's lightly soaring arches 
 
 To heights whereon the free soul marches, — 
 
 So, when for Luther blood was shed. 
 
 The North but razed a fence instead, 
 
 — The spirit that, when men were deeming 
 
 True faith in all the world were dead, 
 
 Brun, Hauge, and their lineage spread. 
 
 From soul-springs in our nation streaming, — 
 
 Though pietism's fog now thickens. 
 
 Still guards the altar lights and quickens; — 
 
 Can this they make the fashion better. 
 
 By modern bishop-synod's letter? 
 
 Is this by politics provided. 
 
 When into " Chambers " 't is divided ? 
 
138 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Can this into a box be juggled 
 
 And o'er the boundary be smuggled? 
 
 And that just now when beacons lighted 
 On all the mountain-tops are sighted, 
 And when our folk-high-school's young day 
 The Norse heart kindles with its ray, 
 Renewing mem'ries, courage bringing. 
 While they are hearing, trusting, singing; — 
 Just when the deep in billows surges, 
 Responsive to the tempest's might, 
 And over it the Northern Light 
 Of Youth's refulgent hope emerges; — 
 Just when the spirit everywhere, 
 While walls lie low as trumpets blare. 
 Is breaking from the ancient forms. 
 And will of youth the heights now storms. 
 
 A battle-age, — and we are in it! 
 The greatest thing on earth: to be 
 Where powers that are bursting free. 
 Self-shaping seek their place and win it; — 
 Our fusing passion all to give. 
 To cast the statue that shall live, 
 To press the mold of our own form 
 On what shall be the future's norm. 
 Into the age's soul thus breathed 
 The spirit God to us bequeathed. 
 
THE CHILD IN OUR SOUL 139 
 
 'T was this that now I wished to say 
 To you, who late and early, aye 
 Within time's workshop great are going, 
 What is, what shall be, ever knowing; — 
 To you, who all our people's might 
 Have roused for freedom new to fight; — 
 To whom our people gave this power, — 
 And sorrow, its eternal dower. 
 
 THE CHILD IN OUR SOUL 
 
 1 OWARD God in heaven spacious 
 With artless faith a boy looks free. 
 
 As toward his mother gracious. 
 And top of Christmas-tree. 
 But early in the storm of youth 
 There wounds him deep the serpent's tooth; 
 His childhood's faith is doubted 
 And flouted. 
 
 Soon stands in radiant splendor 
 With bridal wreath his boyhood's dream; 
 
 Her loving eyes and tender 
 The light of heaven's faith stream. 
 As by his mother's knee of yore 
 God's name he stammers yet once more. 
 
 The rue of tears now paying 
 And praying. 
 
HO POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 When now life's conflict stirring 
 Leads him along through doublings wild, 
 
 Then upward points unerring 
 Close by his side his child. 
 With children he a child is still 
 And whatsoe'er his heart may chill, 
 
 Prayer for his son is warming, 
 Transforming. 
 
 The greatest man in wonder 
 Must ward the child within his breast, 
 
 And list 'mid loudest thunder 
 Its whisperings unrepressed. 
 Where oft a hero fell with shame, 
 The child it was restored his name. 
 
 His better self revealing. 
 And healing. 
 
 All great things thought created 
 In child-like joy sprang forth and grew; 
 
 All strength with goodness mated. 
 Obeyed the child's voice true. 
 When beauty in the soul held sway, 
 The child gave it in artless play; — 
 
 All wisdom worldly-minded 
 Is blinded. 
 
OLE GABRIEL UELAND 141 
 
 Hail him, who forward presses 
 So far that he a home is worth ! 
 
 For there alone possesses 
 The child-life peace on earth. 
 Though worn we grieve and hardened grow, 
 What solace 't is our home to know 
 
 With children's laughter ringing 
 And singing. 
 
 OLE GABRIEL UELAND 
 
 Of long toil 't is a matter 
 
 Through many a silent age. 
 Before such power can shatter 
 
 Time-hallowed custom's cage. 
 The soul-fruit of the peasant, 
 
 Though seldom seed was sown. 
 It is our honor present, — 
 
 Our future sure foreknown. 
 
 The fjords that earnest waited 
 
 'Mid mountain-snows around 
 His childhood's thoughts created 
 
 And depth of life profound. 
 The highlands' sun that played there 
 
 On fjord and mountain snow 
 So wide a vision made there 
 
 As one could wish to know. 
 
142 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 When he to Ting repairing 
 
 Would plead the peasant's right, 
 Each word a beam was bearing 
 
 To make our young day bright. 
 It came like ancient story 
 
 Or long-lost song's refrain; 
 What crowned our past with glory 
 
 It made our present gain. 
 
 Though in his boat a seaman, 
 
 A farmer in his field. 
 Ne'er finer thoughts did freeman 
 
 In royal council wield. 
 His years bear witness ready 
 
 That we shall yet achieve 
 Our people's self-rule steady, 
 
 He taught us to believe. 
 
 When weary, worn, and aged. 
 
 His faith was ever strong; 
 The people's war he waged 
 
 For victory erelong. 
 Beneath the banner dying, 
 
 He would not yet give o'er. 
 And him Valkyries flying 
 
 Home to Valhalla bore. 
 
 From wintry night and bitter 
 He was with stately tread 
 
 In Saga's hall a-glitter 
 Before the high-seat led. 
 
ANTON MARTIN SCHWEIGAARD 143 
 
 Old heroes proud or merry 
 
 Rising to greet him went, 
 But first of all King Sverre, 
 
 From whom was his descent. 
 
 "I" 
 
 ANTON MARTIN SCHWEIGAARD 
 
 (in the church after the funeral oration) 
 
 (jive us, God, to Thee now turning, 
 Fullness of joy, tears full and burning. 
 Of will the full refining fire! 
 Hear our prayer o'er his inurning: 
 His will was one^ the whole discerning. 
 His whole soul would to it aspire. 
 Yes, give us yet again, 
 With power to lead, great men, — 
 Power in counsel our folk to lead. 
 
 Our folk in deed. 
 Our folk in gladness and in need! 
 
 Thou, O God, our want preventest; 
 
 To raise the temple him Thou lentest, 
 
 A spirit bright and pure and great. 
 
 When Thou from time to call him meantest. 
 
 Her tender soul to him Thou sentest 
 
 Who went before to heaven's gate. 
 
 When Thou didst set him free. 
 
 An epoch ceased to be. 
 
144 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Men then marveled, the while they said: 
 
 "Living and dead, 
 O'er all our land he beauty spread." 
 
 Help us, God, to wiser waring, 
 When to our land Thou light art bearing, 
 That we Thy dayspring then may know. 
 God, our future Thou 'rt preparing. 
 Oh, give us longing, honor's daring. 
 That we the great may not forego! 
 Thou sentest many out, — 
 Cease not, our God, nor doubt! 
 Let us follow Thy way. Thy call. 
 
 Men, words, and all! 
 Thy mercies shall our North enwall! 
 
 TO AASMUND OLAFSEN VINJE 
 (sung at his wife's grave) 
 
 Your house to guests has shelter lent. 
 While you with pen were seated. 
 In silent quest they came and went. 
 You saw them not, nor greeted. 
 
 But when now they 
 
 Were gone away, 
 Your babe without a mother lay, 
 And you had lost your helpmate. 
 
TO AASMUND OLAFSEN VINJE 145 
 
 The home you built but yesterday 
 In death to-day is sinking, 
 And you stand sick and worn and gray 
 On ruins of your thinking. 
 
 Your way lay bare 
 
 Since child you were, 
 The shelter that you first could share 
 Was this that now is shattered. 
 
 But know, the guests that to you came 
 In sorrow's waste will meet you; 
 Though shy you shrink, they still will claim 
 The right with love to treat you. 
 
 For where you go 
 
 To you they show 
 The world in radiant light aglow 
 Of great and wondrous visions. 
 
 What once you saw, now passing o'er, 
 Will but be made the clearer; 
 It is the far eternal shore, 
 That on your way draws nearer. 
 
 Your poet-sight 
 
 Will see in light 
 All that the clouds have wrapped in night; — 
 Great doubts will find an answer. 
 
146 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 And later when you leave again 
 The waste of woe thought-pregnant, 
 Whom you have met shall teach us then 
 Your pen in power regnant. 
 
 From sorrow's weal 
 
 With purer zeal, 
 Inspiring light, and pain's appeal 
 Shall shine your wondrous visions. 
 
 GOOD CHEER 
 
 (1870) 
 
 bo let these songs their story tell 
 To all who in the Northland dwell. 
 
 Since many friends request it. 
 (That Finland's folk with them belong 
 In the wide realm of Northern song, 
 
 I grateful must attest it.) 
 
 I send these songs — and now I find 
 Most of them have not what my mind 
 
 Has deepest borne and favored : 
 Some are too hasty, some too brief, 
 Some, long in stock, have come to grief, 
 
 Some with raw youth are flavored. 
 
 I lived far more than e'er I sang; 
 Thought, ire, and mirth unceasing rang 
 
GOOD CHEER 147 
 
 Around me, where I guested ; 
 To be where loud Ufe's battles call 
 For me was well-nigh more than all 
 
 My pen on page arrested. 
 
 What 's true and strong has growing-room, 
 And will perhaps eternal bloom. 
 
 Without black ink's salvation. 
 And he will be, who least it planned. 
 But in life's surging dared to stand, 
 
 The best bard for his nation. 
 
 I heard once of a Spanish feast: 
 Within the ring a rustic beast, 
 
 A horse, to fight was fated; 
 In came a tiger from his cage. 
 Who walked about, his foe to gauge, 
 
 And crouching down, then waited. 
 
 The people clapped and laughed and cheered, 
 The tiger sprang, the horse upreared. 
 
 But none could see him bleeding; 
 The tiger tumbling shrinks and backs 
 Before the horse's rustic whacks, 
 
 Lies on his head naught heeding. 
 
 Then men and women hooted, hissed. 
 With glaring eyes and clenched fist 
 
148 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Out o'er the balcony bending; 
 With shouts the tiger's heart they tease, 
 Their thirst for blood soon to appease, 
 
 To onset new him sending. 
 
 The people clapped and laughed and cheered. 
 The tiger sprang, the horse upreared ; 
 
 No blood to see was given. 
 For fortune held the horse too dear. 
 To him the tiger could not near. 
 
 In flying curves hoof-driven. 
 
 To say who won I will not try; 
 For lo, this rustic horse am I, 
 
 And on the conflict's going; — 
 The city, though, where it occurs. 
 And where it cheers and laughter stirs. 
 
 Is known without my showing. 
 
 I fight, but have no hate or spite. 
 From what I love draw gladness bright. 
 
 My right to wrath reserving. 
 It is my blood, my soul, that goes 
 In every line of all my blows. 
 
 And guides their course unswerving. 
 
 But as I stand here now to-day, 
 
 Nor grudge nor vengeance can me sway. 
 
GOOD CHEER 149 
 
 To think that foes I'm facing. 
 So in return some friendship give 
 To one who for the cause would live, 
 
 With love the North embracing! — 
 
 But first my poet-path shall be 
 With veneration unto thee^ 
 
 Who fill'st the North with wonder; 
 In wrath thou dawn didst prophesy 
 Behind the North's dark morning-sky, 
 
 That lightnings shook and thunder. 
 
 Then, milder, thou, by sea and slope. 
 The fount of saga, faith, and hope 
 
 Mad'st flow for every peasant; — 
 Now from the snow-years' mountain-side 
 Thou seest with time's returning tide 
 
 Thine own high image present. 
 
 To thee^ then, in whose spring of so;ig 
 Finland's "the thousand lakes" belong 
 
 And sound their thrilling sorrow: — 
 Our Northern soul forever heard 
 Keeps watch and ward in poet's word 
 
 'Gainst Eastern millions' morrow. 
 
 But when I stand in our own home. 
 One greets me from the starry dome 
 
ISO POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 With wealth of light and power. 
 There shines he: Henrik Wergeland, 
 Out over Norway's pallid strand 
 In memory's clear hour. 
 
 OLD HELTBERG 
 
 i WENT to a school that was little and proper, 
 Both for church and for state a conventional hopper, 
 Feeding rollers that ground out their grist un waiting; 
 And though it was clear from the gears' frequent grating 
 They rarely with oil of the spirit were smeared, 
 Yet no other school in that region appeared. 
 We had to go there till older; — though sorry, 
 I went there also, — but reveled in Snorre. 
 
 The self-same books, the same so-called education, 
 That teacher after teacher, by decrees of power royal, 
 Into class after class pounds with self-negation. 
 And that only bring promotion to them that are loyal! — 
 The self-same books, the same so-called education, 
 Quickly molding to one type all the men in the land, 
 An excellent fellow who on one leg can stand, 
 And as runs an anchor-rope reel ofF his rote-narration! — 
 The self-same books, the same so-called education 
 From Hammerfest to Mandal — ('tis the state's creation 
 Of an everything-and-every-one-conserving dominion, 
 Wherein all the finer folk have but one opinion!) — 
 
OLD HELTBERG 151 
 
 The self-same books, the same so-called education 
 My comrades devoured; but my appetite failed me, 
 And that fare I refused, till, to cure what had ailed me, 
 Home leaving I leaped o'er those bars of vexation. 
 What I met on the journey, what I thought in each case, 
 What arose in my soul in the new-chosen place. 
 Where the future was lying, — this to tell is refractory. 
 But I'll give you a picture of the "student factory." 
 
 Full-bearded fellows of thirty near died of 
 
 Their hunger for lore, as they slaved by the side of 
 
 Rejected aspirants with faces hairless. 
 
 Like sparrows in spring, scatter-brained and careless. 
 
 — Vigorous seamen whose adventurous mind 
 
 First drove them from school that real life they might 
 
 find— 
 But now to cruise wide on the sea they were craving. 
 Where the flag of free thought o'er all life wide is waving. 
 
 — Bankrupted merchants who their books had wooed 
 In their silent stores, till their creditors sued 
 
 And took from them their goods. Now they studied "on 
 
 credit." 
 Beside them dawdling dandies. Near in scorn have I said it ! 
 — "Non-Latin" law-students, young and ambitious, 
 "Prelims," theologs, with their preaching officious; 
 
 — Cadets that in arm or in leg had a hurt; 
 
 — Peasants late in learning but now in for a spurt: — 
 Here they all wished through their Latin to drive 
 
 In one year or in two, — not in eight or in five. 
 
1 52 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 They hung over benches, 'gainst the walls they were 
 
 lying, 
 In each window sat two, one the edge was just trying 
 Of his new-sharpened knife on an ink-spattered desk. 
 Through two large open rooms what a spectacle gro- 
 tesque ! 
 
 At one end, half in dreams, Aasmund Olavsen Vinje's 
 Long figure and spare, a contemplative genius; 
 Thin and intense, with the color of gypsum. 
 And a coal-black, preposterous beard, Henrik Ibsen. 
 I, the youngest of the lot, had to wait for company 
 Till a new litter came in, after Yule Jonas Lie. 
 
 But the "boss" who ruled there with his logical rod, 
 "Old Heltberg" himself, was of all the most odd! 
 In his jacket of dog's skin and fur-boots stout 
 He waged a hard war with his asthma and gout. 
 No fur-cap could hide from us his forehead imperious, 
 His classical features, his eye's power mysterious. 
 Now erect in his might and now bowed by his pain. 
 Strong thoughts he threw out, and he threw not in vain. 
 If the suffering grew keener and again it was faced 
 By the will in his soul, and his body he braced 
 Against onset after onset, then his eyes were flaming 
 And his hands were clenched hard, as if deep were his 
 
 shaming 
 That he seemed to have yielded ! Oh, then we were 
 
 sharing 
 Amazed all the grandeur of conflict, and bearing 
 
OLD HELTBERG 153 
 
 Home with us a symbol of the storms of that age, 
 When "Wergeland's wild hunt" o'er our country could 
 
 rage! 
 There was power in the men who took part in that play, 
 There was will in the power that then broke its way. 
 Now alone he was left, forgotten in his corner, — 
 But in deeds was a hero, — let none dare to be his 
 
 scorner ! 
 He freed thought from the fetters that the schools inherit. 
 Independent in teaching, he led by the spirit; 
 Personality unique: for with manner anarchic 
 He carved up the text; and absolute-monarchic 
 Was his wrath at mistakes; but soon it subsided. 
 Or, controlled, into noblest pathos was guided. 
 Which oft turned in recoil into self-irony 
 And a downpour of wit letting no one go free. — 
 So he governed his "horde," so we went through the 
 
 country. 
 The fair land of the classics, that we harried with 
 
 effront'ry ! 
 How Cicero, Sallust, and Virgil stood in fear 
 On the forum, in the temple, when we ravaging drew 
 
 near! 
 'T was again the Goths' invasion to the ruin of Rome, 
 It was Thor's and Odin's spirit over Jupiter's home, 
 — And the old man's "grammar" was a dwarf-forged 
 
 hammer. 
 When he swung it and smote with sparks, flames, and 
 
 clamor. 
 
154 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 The herd of "barbarians" he thus headed on their way 
 
 Had no purpose to settle and just there to stay. 
 
 "Non-Latins" they remained, by no alien thought en- 
 slaved, 
 
 And found their true selves, as the foreign foes they 
 braved. 
 
 In conquering the language we learned the laws of 
 
 thought, 
 And following him, his fine longing we caught 
 For wanderings and wonders, all the conqueror's zeal 
 To win unknown lands and their mysteries reveal. 
 Each lesson seemed a vision that henceforth was ours, 
 Inspiring each youth's individual powers. 
 His pictures made pregnant our creative desire. 
 His wit was our testing in an ordeal of fire^ 
 His wisdom was our balance, to weigh things great and 
 
 small. 
 His pathos told of passions, burning, but held in thrall. 
 
 Oft the stricken hero scarce his tedious toil could brook. 
 He wished to go and write, though it were but a single 
 
 book, 
 To show a little what he was, and show it to the world : 
 He loosed his cable daily, but ne'er his sails unfurled. 
 
 His "grammar" was not printed! And he passed from 
 
 mortal ken 
 To where the laws of thought are not written with a pen. 
 
FOR THE WOUNDED 155 
 
 His "grammar" was not printed! But the life that it had, 
 
 In inlc's prolonging power did not need to be clad. 
 
 It lived in his soul, so mighty, so warm, 
 
 That a thousand books' life seems but poor empty form. 
 
 It lives in a host of independent men, 
 
 To whose thought he gave life and who give it again 
 
 In the school, at the bar, in the church, and Storting's 
 
 hall, 
 In poetry and art, — whose deeds and lifework all 
 Have proved to be the freer and the broader in their 
 
 might. 
 Because Heltberg had given their youth higher flight. 
 
 FOR THE WOUNDED 
 
 (.871) 
 
 J\. STILL procession goes 
 Amid the battle's booming. 
 Its arm the red cross shows; 
 It prays in many forms of speech, 
 And, bending o'er the fallen. 
 Brings peace and home to each. 
 
 Not only is it found 
 
 Where bleed the wounds of battle. 
 
 But all the world around. 
 
 It is the love the whole world feels 
 
 In noble hearts and tender, 
 
 While gentle pity kneels; — 
 
iS6 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 It is all labor's dread 
 
 Of war's mad waste and murder, 
 
 Praying that peace may spread; 
 
 It is all sufFerers who heed 
 
 The sighing of a brother, 
 
 And know his sorrow's need; — 
 
 It is each groan of pain 
 Heard from the sick and wounded, 
 'T is Christian prayer humane; 
 It is their cry who lonely grope, 
 'T is the oppressed man's moaning. 
 The dying breath of hope; — 
 
 This rainbow-bridge of prayers 
 Up through the world's wild tempest 
 In light of Christ's faith bears: 
 That love and loving deeds 
 May conquer strife and passion; 
 For thus His promise reads. 
 
 LANDFALL 
 
 A.ND that was Olaf Trygvason, 
 
 Going o'er the North Sea grim, 
 
 Straight for his home and kingdom steering, 
 
 Where none awaited him. 
 
 Now the first mountains tower; 
 
 Are they walls, on the ocean that lower? 
 
TO HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 157 
 
 And that was Olaf Trygvason, 
 
 Fast the land seemed locked at first, 
 
 All of his youthful, kingly longings 
 
 Doomed on the cliffs to burst, — 
 
 Until a skald discovered 
 
 Shining domes in the cloud-mists, that hovered. 
 
 And that was Olaf Trygvason, 
 
 Seemed to see before his eyes 
 
 Mottled and gray some timeless temple 
 
 Lifting white domes to the skies. 
 
 Sorely he longed to win it. 
 
 Stand and hallow his young faith within it. 
 
 TO HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 
 
 (at a summer-fete for him in CHRISTIANIA, 1871) 
 
 We welcome you this wondrous summer-day. 
 When childhood's dreams on earth are streaming, 
 To bloom and sing, to brighten and to pale; 
 
 A fairy-tale, 
 A fairy-tale, our Northland all is seeming. 
 And holds you in its arms a festal space 
 With grateful glee and whisperings face to face. 
 Th' angelic noise. 
 Sweet strains of children's joys. 
 Bears you a moment to that home 
 Whence all our dreams, whence all our dreams have come. 
 
158 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 We welcome you! Our nation all is young, 
 
 Still in that age of dreams enthralling, 
 
 When greatest things in fairy-tales are nursed. 
 
 And he is first, 
 And he is first, who hears his Lord's high calling. 
 Of childhood's longings you the meaning know, 
 And to the North a goal of greatness show. 
 
 Your fantasy 
 
 Has just that path made free, 
 Where, past the small things that you hate. 
 We yet shall find, we yet shall find the great. 
 
 TO STANG 
 (1871) 
 
 JVIay Seventeenth in Eidsvold's church united. 
 
 To hallow after fifty years the day 
 
 When they who there our charter free indited, 
 
 Together for our land were met to pray, — 
 
 We both were there with thanks to those great men, 
 
 With thanks to God, who to our people then 
 
 In days of danger courage gave unbounded. 
 
 And when so mighty through the church now 
 sounded 
 " Praise ye the Lord ! " lifting our pallid prayer 
 To fellowship with all her sons, our brothers, 
 I saw you, child-like, weep in secret there 
 Upon the breast we love, our common mother's. 
 
TO STANG 159 
 
 Then I remembered that from boyhood's hour 
 With all your strength to serve her you have striven, 
 Your youthful fire, your counsel cool have given, 
 And till it waned, your manhood's wealth of power. 
 With blessing then and praise of you I thought 
 In thankful prayer, as one of those who fought 
 To shield our land from storms of fate's hard weather. 
 Till 'neath the roof in peace we sat together. 
 
 Of you I thought; — but so think few and fewer. 
 Your manhood's fame ere you yourself has crumbled. 
 And you, alas, will not find justice truer. 
 Till you and yours one day have fallen, humbled. 
 
 For see, the roads you drew o'er hill and plain 
 For all our people's onward-pressing longing. 
 You dare not travel with the joyous train. 
 That greater grows while towards its future thronging. 
 You knew not what it was your labor wrought. 
 When steam and powder, bursting every barrier, 
 Gave new-born cravings each its speedy carrier 
 And to the people's spirit power brought. 
 The new day's work, as 't were the tempest's welter. 
 In din about you seemed a dream, a fable. 
 And with your like you built in fear a shelter 
 From soul-unrest, a looming tower of Babel. 
 
i6o POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 While now you wait for the impending fight, 
 With gentle eye and stately head all hoary, 
 And o'er the mountains gleams the morning's glory, — 
 Your foes half hid amid the mists of night, — 
 As from an outpost in the wooded wild, 
 These words I send, of peace a token mild. 
 
 You fear the people? 'Tis your own that rally. 
 And like the fog arisen from the valley. 
 You think them rebels, void of sense and oneness? 
 Yes, spring's full floods obey no rule precise; 
 Storm-squalls and slush render the roads less nice, 
 The snow's pure white is partly soiled to dunness. 
 But spring is born! The man of genius free. 
 Prophetic, heeds its holy harmony; 
 For genius shares the soul of what shall be. 
 This you have not and never had an hour. 
 And so you shrink before the people's power. 
 
 You were a foreman with the gift of leading. 
 When pioneers cleared up a pathless tract; 
 Your lucid thinking and your gracious tact 
 Oft helped them over obstacles impeding. 
 But what new growths the ancient fields have filled. 
 From western seed to feed our land's wants tilled, 
 And what new light shines through your window-pane, 
 Longing for truth beneath religion's reign. 
 And what new things but whispering we say, — 
 And what foretells the dawning reckoning-day, — 
 
TO STANG i6i 
 
 You fail to understand and find but madness 
 
 In our young nation's fairest growth and gladness. 
 
 You answer: Poet's deeming is but dreaming, 
 And in the statesman's art most unbeseeming. 
 I answer: None has might men's life to sway, 
 If impotent the worth of dreams to weigh. 
 From cravings, powers that seek their form, ascending. 
 They fill the air, their right to be defending, 
 Till all men wakened to one goal are tending. 
 His nation's dreams are all the statesman's life. 
 Create his might, direct his aim in strife. 
 And if he this forgets, the next dreams blooming 
 Bring forth another, unto death him dooming. 
 
 The tempest-clouds that mount afresh and thicken 
 Cannot so dense before the morn's light hover 
 That we may not through cloud-rifts clear discover 
 Great thoughts that new-born victories shall quicken. 
 
 Such thoughts are radiant over me to-day. 
 And to my heart the warmer blood is streaming. 
 And all we live for, all that we are dreaming, 
 Its summons sends and strengthens for the fray. 
 
 The war-horns soon beneath the woods shall bray. 
 Through dewy night th' assailing columns dash. 
 Amid the sudden gleams of shot and slash 
 The fog dissolve before our new-born day. 
 
i62 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Soon, though you threaten, will the heights be taken 
 For future ages, and our nation's soul 
 Can thence o'erlook the land in might unshaken. 
 With even hand and right to rule the whole. 
 It soon shall roll war's billows on to battle. 
 While from the clouds the fathers' weapons rattle! 
 O aged man, look round you where you stand. 
 For soon you have against you all our land. 
 
 But iffhen you fall defeated on the field, 
 Then shall we say by your inverted shield: 
 He stood against us, since he knew not better, 
 A noble knight and never honor's debtor. 
 
 ON A WIFE'S DEATH 
 
 With death's dark eye acquainted she had been made 
 ere this. 
 
 When to her son, her first-born, she gave the farewell 
 kiss. 
 
 And when afar she hastened beside her mother's bed, 
 
 It followed all her faring with warning fraught and dread; 
 
 It filled her with foreboding when standing by the bier: 
 
 More sheaves to gather hopeth the harvester austere. 
 
 So soon she saw her husband, that man of strength, suc- 
 cumb, 
 
 She said with sorrow stricken : " I knew that it would 
 come ! " 
 
AT THE BIER OF PRECENTOR A. REITAN 163 
 
 She thought that he was chosen by God from earth to go, 
 Would check, her hands upthrusting, the harsh behest of 
 
 woe; 
 And with her slender body, too weak for such a strife. 
 Would ward her gallant consort, — and gave for him her 
 
 Hfe. 
 
 She smiled, serene and blissful, as death's dark eye she 
 
 braved ; 
 Her sacrifice was given, her heart's proud her^ saved. 
 Our love and admiration lifted a starry dome 
 Of happiness above her in life's last hour of gloam. 
 And snow-white pure she passed then to her eternal 
 
 home. 
 Such tender love and holy to heaven's bounds can bear 
 The souls that it embraces in sacrifice and prayer. 
 
 AT THE BIER OF PRECENTOR A. REITAN 
 
 (.gyz) 
 
 With smiles his soft eyes ever gleamed. 
 
 When God and country thinking; 
 With endless joy, his soul, it seemed. 
 Faith, fatherland, was Hnking. 
 His word, his song. 
 Like springs flowed strong; 
 They fruitful made the valley long. 
 And quickened all there drinking. 
 
164 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Poor people and poor homes among 
 
 In wintry region saddest, 
 In Sunday's choir he always sung, 
 Of all the world the gladdest: 
 "The axis stout 
 It turns about, 
 Falls not the poorest home without. 
 For thus, O God, Thou badest." 
 
 With sickness came a heavy year 
 And put to proof his singing. 
 While helpless children standing near 
 His trust to test were bringing. 
 But glad the more, 
 As soft notes soar 
 When winds o'er hidden harp-strings 
 pour, 
 His song his soul was winging. 
 
 His life foretold us that erelong 
 With faith in God unshaken 
 Shall all our nation stand in song. 
 And church, home, school, awaken. 
 In Norway's song, 
 In gladness' song. 
 In glory of the Lord's own song. 
 From life's low squalor taken. 
 
SONG 165 
 
 Fair fatherland, do not forget, 
 The children of his bower ! 
 He, poor as is the rosebush, yet 
 Gave gladness till death's hour — 
 With failure's smart 
 Let not depart 
 From this thy soil so glad a heart, — 
 His garden, let it flower! 
 
 SONG 
 
 boNG brings us light with the power of lending 
 
 Glory to brighten the work that we find; 
 Song brings us warmth with the power of rending 
 
 Rigor and frost in the swift-melting mind. 
 Song is eternal with power of blending 
 
 Time that is gone and to come in the soul. 
 Fills it with yearnings that flow without ending. 
 
 Seeking that sea where the light-surges roll. 
 
 Song brings us union, while gently beguiling 
 
 Discord and doubt on its radiant way; 
 Song brings us union and leads, reconciling 
 
 Battle-glad passions by harmony's sway. 
 Unto the beautiful, valiant, and holy ! 
 
 — Some can pass over its long bridge of light 
 Higher and higher to visions that solely 
 
 Faith can reveal to the spirit's pure sight. 
 
1 66 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Songs from the past of the past's longings telling, 
 
 Pensive and sad cast a sunset's red glow; 
 Present time's longings in sweet music dwelling, 
 
 Grateful the soul of the future shall know. 
 Youth of all ages in song here are meeting, 
 
 Sounding in tone and in word their desire; 
 — More than we think, from the dead bringing 
 greeting. 
 
 Gather to-night in our festival choir. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF N. F. S. GRUNDTVIG 
 
 (1872) 
 
 JiL'en as the Sibyl in Northland-dawn drew 
 Forth from the myth-billows gliding, 
 Told all the past, all the future so true. 
 Sank with the lands' last subsiding, — 
 Prophecies leaving, eternally new, 
 Still abiding: 
 
 Thus goes his spirit the Northland before, — 
 Though, that he sank, we have tiding, — 
 Visions unfolding like sun-clouds, when o'er 
 Sea-circled lands they are riding. 
 Northern lands' future, till time is no more, 
 Ever guiding. 
 
CANTATA FOR N. F. S. GRUNDTVIG 167 
 
 FROM THE CANTATA FOR 
 
 N. F. S. GRUNDTVIG 
 
 (1872) 
 
 rdis day was the greatest the Northland has seen, 
 It one was with the midnight-sun's wonders serene: 
 The light wherein he sat was the light of God's true peace, 
 And that has never morning, nor night when it must cease. 
 
 In light of God's peace shone the history he gave, 
 The spirit's course on earth that shall conquer the grave. 
 In light of God's pure peace thus onv fathers' mighty way 
 Before us for example and warning open lay. 
 
 In light of God's peace he beheld with watchful eye 
 The people at their work and the spirit's strivings high. 
 In light of God's pure peace he would have all learning 
 
 glow, 
 And where his word is honored the "Folk- High-Schools" 
 
 must grow. 
 
 In light of God's peace stood 'mid sorrow and care 
 For Denmark's folk his comfort, a castle strong and fair; 
 In light of God's pure peace there shall once again be won 
 And thousand-fold increased, what seems lost now and 
 undone. 
 
 In light of God's peace stands his patriarch-worth. 
 The sum and the amen of a manful life on earth. 
 
1 68 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 In light of God's pure peace how his face shone, lifted up, 
 When white-haired at the altar he held th' atoning cup. 
 
 In light of God's peace came his word o'er the wave. 
 In light of God's pure peace sound the sweet psalms he 
 
 gave. 
 In light of God's pure peace, as its sunbeam curtains fall 
 To hide him from us, stands now his memory for all. 
 
 AT A BANQUET FOR 
 PROFESSOR LUDV. KR. DAA 
 
 Youthful friends here a circle form, 
 
 Elder foes now surrender. 
 Feel among us in safety, warm, 
 
 Toward you our hearts are tender. 
 Once again on a hard-fought day 
 Hero-like you have led the way. 
 
 Smiting all that before you stood; — 
 
 ■ But now be good ! 
 
 With no hubbub, without champagne. 
 
 Dress-suit, and party-collar. 
 We would honor o'er viands plain 
 
 Grateful our "grand old scholar"! 
 When all quiet are wind and wave, 
 Seldom we see this pilot brave; — 
 
 When storm-surges our ship might whelm, 
 He takes the helm ! 
 
AT A BANQUET FOR LUDV. KR. DAA 169 
 
 — Takes the helm and through thick and thin 
 
 (Clear are his old eyes burning), 
 Steers the course with his trusty "grin," 
 
 Straight, where the others are turning! 
 Thanks gave to him I know not who, 
 For he scolded the skipper, too! — 
 
 Back he went to his home right soon: 
 We had the boon. 
 
 He has felt what it is to go 
 
 Hated, till truth gains the battle; 
 He has felt what it is to know 
 
 Blows that from both sides rattle. 
 He has felt what the cost is, so 
 Forward the present its path to show: 
 
 He, whose strength had such heights attained, 
 Stood all disdained. 
 
 Would that Norway soon grew so great 
 
 That it with justice rewarded 
 Heroes who its true weal create. 
 
 Who are no laggards sordid. 
 Shall we always so slowly crawl, 
 Split forever in factions small. 
 
 Idly counting each ill that ails? — 
 No ! Set the sails ! 
 
 Set the sails for the larger life. 
 Whereto our nation has power! 
 
I70 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Daily life is with death but rife, 
 
 If there 's not growth every hour. 
 Rally to war for the cause of right, 
 Sing 'neath the standard of honor bright. 
 Sail with faith in our God secure. 
 And strong endure! 
 
 OH, WHEN WILL YOU STAND FORTH? 
 (1872) 
 
 (Jh, when will you stand forth, who with strength can 
 
 bring aid. 
 To strike down the injustice and lies 
 That my house have beset, and with malice blockade 
 Every pathway I out for my powers have laid. 
 And would hidden means find 
 With deceit and with hate 
 To set watch on my mind 
 And defile every plate 
 In my beautiful home where defenseless we wait ? 
 
 Oh, when will you stand forth ? This detraction through 
 
 years 
 For my people has made me an oaf. 
 Hides my poetry's fount in the fog of its fleers. 
 So it merely a pool of self-worship appears ; 
 Like a clumsy troll I 
 Am contemned with affront. 
 Whom all "cultured" folk fly. 
 
OH. WHEN WILL YOU STAND FORTH? 171 
 
 Or yet gather to hunt, 
 
 That their hunger of hate at a feast they may blunt. 
 
 When I publish a book: "It is half like himself;" 
 
 If I speak, 't is for vanity's sake. 
 
 What I build in the stage-world of fancy's free elf 
 
 Is but formed from my fatuous self. 
 
 When for faith I contend 
 
 And our land's ancient ways, 
 
 When the bridge I defend 
 
 From our fathers' great days, 
 
 'Tis because my poor breast no king's "Order" displays, 
 
 Oh, when will you stand forth, who shall sunder in twain 
 
 All this slander so stifling and foul, 
 
 And shall sink in the sea all the terror insane 
 
 That they have of heart-passion and will-wielding brain, — 
 
 And with love shall enfold 
 
 A soul's faith wide and deep. 
 
 That in want and in cold 
 
 Would its morning-watch keep 
 
 Undismayed, till the light all the host shall ensweep ? 
 
 Come, thou Spirit of Norway, God-given of yore 
 
 In the stout giant-conquering Thor! 
 
 While the lightning thou ridest, thy answer's loud roar 
 
 Drowns the din that the dwarfs in defiance outpour; 
 
 Thou canst waken with might 
 
 All our longings to soar. 
 
 Thou canst strengthen in right 
 
172 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 What united we swore, 
 
 When at Hafur thy standard in honor we bore. 
 
 Hail, thou_ Spirit of Norway ! To think but of 
 
 thee 
 Makes so small all the small things I felt. 
 To thy coming I hallow me, wholly to thee, 
 And I humbly look up to thy face, unto thee, 
 And I pray for a song 
 With thy tongue's stirring sound. 
 That I true may and strong 
 In the crisis be found, 
 To rouse heroes for thee on our forefathers' 
 
 ground. 
 
 AT HANSTEEN'S BIER 
 
 (1873) 
 
 CroD, we thank Thee for the dower 
 Thou gavest Norway in his power. 
 
 Whom in the grave we now shall lay! 
 Starlit paths of thoughts that awe us 
 His spirit found; his deeds now draw us 
 To deeds, as mighty magnets play. 
 He was the first to stand 
 A light in our free land; 
 Of our present the first fair crown. 
 
 The first renown, 
 At Norway's feet he laid it down. 
 
SONG FOR FREEDOM IN THE NORTH 173 
 
 We his shining honors sharing, 
 And humble now his body bearing, 
 
 Shall sing with all the world our praise. 
 God, who ever guides our nation, 
 Hath called us to a high vocation 
 
 And shown where He our goal doth raise. 
 
 People of Norway, glad 
 
 Go on, as God us bade! 
 God has roused you; He knows whereto. 
 
 Though we are few. 
 With Him our future we shall view. 
 
 RALLYING SONG FOR FREEDOM IN 
 THE NORTH 
 
 TO "THE UNITED LEFT" 
 {Tirol, 187+) 
 
 Dishonored by the higher, but loved by all the low, — 
 Say, is it not the pathway that the new has to go .? 
 By those who ought to guard it betrayed, oh yes, be- 
 trayed, — 
 Say, is it not thus truth ever progress has madei* 
 
 Some summer day beginning, a murmur in the grain. 
 It grows to be a roaring through the forests amain. 
 Until the sea shall bear it with thunder-trumpets' tone. 
 Where nothing, nothing 's heard but it alone, it alone. 
 
174 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 With Northern allies warring we take the Northern wing; 
 For God and for our freedom — is the watchword we 
 
 bring. 
 That God, who gave us country and language, and gave 
 
 all. 
 We find Him in our doing, if we hear and heed His call. 
 
 That doing we will forward, we many, although weak, 
 'Gainst all in fearless fighting, who the truth will not 
 
 seek: — 
 Some summer day beginning, a murmur in the grain. 
 It goes now as a roaring through the forests amain. 
 
 'T will grow to be a storm ere men think that this can be, 
 With voice of thunder sweeping o'er the infinite sea. 
 What nation God's call follows, earth's greatest power 
 
 shall show, 
 And carry all before it, though it high stand or low. 
 
 AT A BANQUET 
 
 GIVEN TO THE DEPUTATION OF THE SWEDISH RIKSDAG 
 TO THE CORONATION, IN TRONDHJEM, JULY 17, 1873 
 
 Y ou chosen men we welcome here 
 
 From brothers near. 
 We welcome you to Olaf's town, 
 That Norway's greatest mem'ries crown. 
 Where ancient prowess looking down 
 
 With searching gaze, 
 
AT A BANQUET 175 
 
 The question puts to sea and strand : 
 Are men now in the Northern land 
 Like yesterday's? 
 
 'Tis well, if on the battlefield 
 
 Our "Yes" is sealed! 
 'T is well, if now our strength is steeled 
 To grasp our fathers' sword and shield 
 And in life's warfare lift and wield 
 
 For God and home! 
 For us they fought; 't is now our call 
 To raise for them a temple-hall, 
 
 Fair freedom's dome. 
 
 List to the Northern spirit o'er 
 
 Our sea and shore! 
 Here once high thoughts in word were freed, 
 In homely song, in homely deed; 
 And ever shall the selfsame need 
 
 That spirit sing: 
 Heed not things trivial, foreign, new; 
 Alone th' eternal, Northern, true 
 
 Can harvest bring. 
 
 O brother-band, this faith so dear 
 
 Has brought us here? 
 The spirit of the North to free. 
 Our common toil and prayer shall be. 
 Those greater days again to see, — 
 
 As once before, 
 
176 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Of home and trust a message strong 
 To send the warring world we long 
 Forevermore. 
 
 OPEN WATER! 
 
 Open water, open water! 
 
 All the weary winter's yearning 
 
 Bursts in restless passion burning. 
 
 Scarce is seen the blue of ocean, 
 
 And the hours seem months in motion. 
 
 Open water, open water! 
 Smiles the sun on ice defiant. 
 Eats it like a shameless giant: 
 Soon as mouth of sun forsakes it, 
 Swift the freezing night remakes it. 
 
 Open water, open water! 
 Storm shall be the overcomer 
 Sweeping on from others' summer 
 Billows free all foes to swallow, — 
 Crash and fall and sinking follow. 
 
 Open water, open water ! 
 Mirrored mountains are appearing, 
 Boats with steam and sail are nearing. 
 Inward come the wide world's surges. 
 Outward joy of combat urges. 
 
SONG OF FREEDOM 177 
 
 Open water, open water! 
 Fiery sun and cooling shower 
 Quicken earth to speak with power. 
 Soul responds, the wonder viewing: 
 Strength is here for life's renewing. 
 
 SONG OF FREEDOM 
 
 TO "THE UNITED LEFt" 
 (1877) 
 
 Treedom's father — power strong. 
 Freedom's mother — wrath and song. 
 Giant-stout, a youth self-taught. 
 Soon a giant's work he wrought. 
 Ever he, full of glee, 
 Thought and wit and melody, 
 Mighty, merry, made his way, — 
 Labor's toil or battle-fray. 
 
 Enemies whom none could tell 
 Lay in wait this foe to fell. 
 Found him waking all too stark. 
 Sought his sleeping hours to mark. 
 Tried their skill, bound him still; 
 When he wakened, they fared ill. 
 Glad he forward strode firm-paced. 
 Full of power, full of haste. 
 
1/8 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Bare fields blossom 'neath his feet, 
 
 Commerce swells about his seat, 
 
 From his fire gleam thought-rays bright,- 
 
 All things doubled are in might! 
 
 For the land law he planned. 
 
 Keeps it, guards with head and hand, 
 
 Of all rue and error quit. 
 
 Crushing him who injures it. 
 
 Freedom's God is God of light. 
 Not the bondsman's god of fright, — 
 God of love and brotherhood, 
 Springtime's hope and will for good. 
 To earth's ends peace He sends ! 
 Heed the words His law commends; 
 "One your Lord, and I am He, 
 Have no other gods but Me!" 
 
 TO MOLDE 
 
 MoLDE, Molde, 
 True as a song. 
 Billowy rhythms whose thoughts fill with love me. 
 Follow thy form in bright colors above me. 
 
 Bear thy beauty along. 
 Naught is so black as thy fjord, when storm-lashes 
 Sea-salted scourge it and inward it dashes. 
 Naught is so mild as thy strand, as thine islands. 
 Ah, as thine islands! 
 
TO MOLDE 179 
 
 Naught is so strong as thy mountain-linked ring, 
 Naught is so sweet as thy summer-nights bring. 
 
 Molde, Molde, 
 
 True as a song, 
 Murm'ring memories throng. 
 
 Molde, Molde, 
 Flower-o'ergrown, 
 Houses and gardens where good friends wander! 
 Hundreds of miles away, — but I 'm yonder 
 
 'Mid the roses full-blown. 
 Strong shines the sun on that mountain-rimmed beauty, 
 Fast is the fight, let each man do his duty. 
 Friends, who your favor would never begrudge me. 
 
 Gently now judge me! — 
 Only with life ends the fight for the right. 
 Thought flees to you for a refuge in light. 
 Molde, Molde, 
 Flower-o'ergrown , 
 Childhood's memories' throne. 
 
 Oh, may at last 
 In thine embrace, life's fleeting 
 
 Conflict past, 
 Glad thine evening-glory greeting, 
 — Where life let thought awaken, — 
 My thought by death be taken! 
 
i8o POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 PER BO 
 
 (1878) 
 
 Once I knew a noble peasant 
 From a line of men large-hearted. 
 Light and strength were in his mind, 
 Lifted like a peak clear-lined 
 O'er the valley in spring sunshine, 
 First to feel the morning's beam, 
 First refreshed by cloud-born stream. 
 
 Wide the springtime spread its banner. 
 Waving in his will illumined, 
 Bright with promise, color-sound; 
 Heritage of toil its ground. 
 Round that mountain music floated. 
 Songsters sweet of faith and hope 
 Nestled on its tree- clad slope. 
 
 Sometime, sometime all the valley 
 Like him shall with light be flooded; 
 Sometime all his faith and truth 
 Sunward grow in dewy youth. 
 And the dreams he dreamt too early 
 Live and make him leader be 
 For a race as true as he. 
 
HAMAR-MADE MATCHES i8i 
 
 HAMAR-MADE MATCHES 
 (1877) 
 
 riERE your Hamar-made matches!" — 
 
 Of them these verses I sang; 
 A thought to which humor attaches, 
 
 But yet to my heart sparks sprang. 
 
 Sparks from the box-side flying 
 
 Sank deep in my memory, 
 Till in a light undying 
 
 Two eyes cast their spell on me, — 
 
 Light on the fire that 's present, 
 When faith blazes forth in deed. 
 
 Know, that to every peasant 
 
 Those eyes sent a light in need. 
 
 Sent to souls without measure 
 
 The flame of love's message broad, 
 
 Gathering in one treasure 
 Fatherland, home, and God. 
 
 For it was Herman Anker 
 
 Took of his fathers' gold. 
 Loaned it as wisdom's banker. 
 
 Spread riches of thought untold. 
 
 Scattered it wide as living 
 Seed for the soil to enwrap; 
 
1 82 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Flowers spring from his giving 
 Over all Norway's lap. 
 
 Flowers spring forth, though stony 
 The ground where it fell, and cold. 
 
 Never did patrimony 
 
 Bear fruitage so many fold. 
 
 Heed this, Norwegian peasant. 
 Heed it, you townsman, too! 
 
 That fruit of love's seed may be present. 
 Our thanks must fall fresh as dew. 
 
 " Here your Hamar-made matches ! " 
 My thanks kindle fast. And oh ! 
 This song at your heart-strings catches, 
 That kindling your thanks may glow. 
 
 The matches hold them in hiding, — 
 Scratching one you will find 
 
 The light with a warmth abiding 
 Carries them to his mind. 
 
 " Here your Hamar-made matches ! " 
 Only to strike one here. 
 Our thanks far-away dispatches, 
 With peace his fair home to cheer. 
 
 His matches in thousands of houses, 
 In great and in small as well! — 
 
HAMAR-MADE MATCHES 183 
 
 The light that thanksgiving arouses 
 Shall scatter the darkness fell. 
 
 His matches in thousands of houses! — 
 
 Some eve from his factory 
 He '11 see how thanksgiving arouses 
 
 The land, and its love flames free. 
 
 He '11 see in the eyes so tender, 
 
 Through gleams that his matches woke, 
 
 The thanks that his nation would render, 
 His glistening wreath of oak, — 
 
 He 'II feel that Norway with double 
 The warmth of other lands glows; 
 
 The harvest must more be than trouble. 
 When faith in its future grows. 
 
 " Here your Hamar-made matches ! " 
 No phosphorus-poison more! 
 The bearer of light up-catches 
 
 The work of the school before: — 
 
 From home all the poison taking. 
 
 Hastening the light's advance, 
 Longings to warm light waking. 
 
 That lay there and had no chance. 
 
1 84 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 THEY HAVE FOUND EACH OTHER 
 
 ( FROM THE DRAMA THE KING, THIRD INTERLUDE) 
 
 JVluTE they wander, 
 
 Meeting yonder, 
 In the wondrous Spring new-born, 
 That though old as Time's first morn. 
 Brings fresh youth to all the living. 
 Now held fast, now far retreating. 
 But through hearts in oneness beating 
 Ever fullest bloom is giving. 
 
 Mute they wander. E'en the eye 
 Speaks no thought. For from on high 
 To their souls sweet strains have spoken 
 From the wide world's harmony. 
 Born of light, the darkness broken. 
 In the dawn of things to be. 
 
 Power crowned — 
 
 Earth around 
 Like a sun-song rolled the sound. 
 
 Mute they wander. Sweet strains ending — 
 Eye nor tongue dares yet the lending 
 Speech to thought. 
 
 But lo! quick blending. 
 All things speak! They sound and shimmer. 
 Bloom in fragrance, ring and glimmer. 
 Tint and tone combining, nearer. 
 Meet as one with all their thinking 
 
THE PURE NORWEGIAN FLAG 185 
 
 In one beauty, higher, clearer, — 
 Heaven itself to earth is sinking. 
 
 But in this great hour of trysting 
 Life is opened, its course brightened. 
 Growth eternal calls, enlisting 
 Every spirit-power heightened. 
 
 THE PURE NORWEGIAN FLAG* 
 I 
 i Ri-COLORED flag, and pure, 
 Thou art our hard-fought cause secure; 
 Thor's hammer-mark of might 
 Thou bearest blue in Christian white. 
 And all our hearts' red blood 
 To thee streams its full flood. 
 
 Thou liftest us high when life 's sternest. 
 Exultant, thou oceanward turnest; 
 Thy colors of freedom are earnest 
 That spirit and body shall never know 
 
 dearth. — 
 Fare forth o'er the earth! 
 
 II 
 "The pure flag is but pure folly," 
 
 You "wise" men maintain for true. 
 
 *That is, without the mark of union with Sweden. 
 
1 86 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 But the flag is the truth poetic, 
 
 The folly is found in you. 
 In poetry upward soaring, 
 
 The nation's immortal soul 
 With hands invisible carries 
 
 The flag toward the future goal. 
 That soul's every toil and trial. 
 
 That soul's every triumph sublime, 
 Are sounding in songs immortal, — 
 
 To their music the flag beats time. 
 We bear it along surrounded 
 
 By mem'ry's melodious choir, 
 By mild and whispering voices. 
 
 By will and stormy desire. 
 It gives not to others guidance. 
 
 Can not a Swedish word say ; 
 It never can flaunt allurement: — 
 
 Clear the foreign colors away! 
 
 Ill 
 The sins and deceits of our nation 
 
 Possess in the flag no right; 
 The flag is the high ideal 
 
 In honor's immortal light. 
 The best of our past achievements. 
 
 The best of our present prayers. 
 It takes in its folds from the fathers 
 
 And bears to the sons and heirs; 
 
THE PURE NORWEGIAN FLAG 187 
 
 Bears it all pure and artless, 
 
 By tokens that tempt us unmarred, 
 
 Is for our will's young manhood 
 Leader as well as guard. 
 
 IV 
 
 They say: "As by rings of betrothal 
 
 We are by the flag affied ! " 
 But Norway is not betrothed, 
 
 She is no one's promised bride. 
 She shares her abode with no one. 
 
 Her bed and her board to none yields, 
 Her will is her worthy bridegroom. 
 
 Herself rules her sea, her fields. 
 Our brother to eastward honors 
 
 This independence of youth. 
 He knows well that by it only 
 
 Our wreath can be won in truth. 
 When we from the flag are taking 
 
 His colors, Ae knows 't is no whim, 
 But merely because we are holding 
 
 Our honor higher than him. 
 And none who himself has honor 
 
 Will seek him a different friend; 
 Our life we can for him offer. 
 
 But naught of our flag can lend. 
 
i88 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 TO SWEDEN 
 
 Respectful I seek a hearing, 
 With trust in your temper sane, 
 And plead now our cause before you 
 In words that are calm and plain; 
 
 If, Sweden, you were the smaller, 
 
 Were young your freedom's renown. 
 Had your flag a mark of union 
 
 That pressed you still farther down 
 By saying that you, as little, 
 
 Were set at the greater's board 
 (For this is the mark's real meaning. 
 
 By no one on earth ignored), 
 Yes, if it were you, — and your freedom 
 
 Not hallowed by age, but young, 
 And a century's want and weakness 
 
 Still heavy in memory hung, 
 The soul of your nation harrowed 
 
 By old injustice and need. 
 By luckless labor and longing, 
 
 — And did you its meaning heed; 
 Yes, if it were you, whose duty 
 
 To teach your people were tried. 
 To honor their new-born freedom. 
 
 To find in their flag their guide : 
 Would longer you suffer it sundered. 
 
 Leave foreign a single field? 
 Would you not claim it unplundered, 
 
 Your independence to shield? 
 
THE PURE NORWEGIAN FLAG 189 
 
 Would not to yourself you say then: 
 
 "If one has high lineage long, 
 If greater his colors' glory, 
 
 The more alluring his song. 
 Oh, tempt not him who from trouble 
 
 Is rising with new found might ; 
 With pure marks direct him, rather, 
 
 To honor's exalted height." 
 
 Thus you would speak, elder hero, 
 
 \^ you in our home abode; 
 Your wont is the way of honor. 
 
 You fare on the forward road. 
 From eighteen hundred and fourteen, 
 
 And down to the latest day. 
 So oft for our independence 
 
 We stood like the stag at bay. 
 Brave men have risen among you, 
 
 And scorning the strife that swelled, 
 Have talked for our cause high-minded, 
 
 Like Torgny to them of eld. 
 
 VI 
 ANSWER TO THE AGED RIDDERSTAD 
 
 You say, it is "knightly duty," 
 The fight for the flag to share, — 
 
 I hold you full high in honor, 
 But — that is our own affair! 
 
 For just because we encounter 
 
 The storm-blasts of slander stark. 
 
I90 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 It 's "knightly duty" to free now 
 
 The flag from the marring mark. 
 The "parity" that mark preaches 
 
 Fhes false over all the seas; 
 A pan-Scandinavian Sweden 
 
 Can never our nation please. 
 From "knightly duty" the smaller 
 
 Must say: I am not a part; 
 The mark of my freedom and honor 
 
 Is whole for my mind and heart. 
 From "knightly duty" the greater 
 
 Must say: A falsehood's fair sign 
 Can give me no special honor, 
 
 No longer shall it be mine. 
 For both it is "knightly duty," 
 
 With flags that are pure, to be 
 A warring world's bright example 
 
 Of peoples at peace, proud and free. 
 
 TO MISSIONARY SKREFSRUD IN 
 SANTALISTAN 
 
 1 HONOR you, who, though refused, affronted, 
 Have heard the voice, and victory have won; 
 
 I honor you, who still by malice hunted, 
 Show miracles of faith and power done. 
 
 I honor you, God-thirsting soul so driven, 
 
 'Mid scorn and need the spirit's war to wage; 
 
POST FESTUM 191 
 
 I honor you, by Gudbrand's valley given, 
 And of her sons the foremost in this age. 
 
 I do not share your faith, your daring dreaming; 
 
 This parts us not, the spirit's paths are broad. 
 For, all things great and noble round us streaming, 
 
 I worship them, because I v/orship God. 
 
 POST FESTUM 
 
 A. MAN in coat of ice arrayed 
 
 Stood up once by the Arctic Ocean; 
 
 The whole earth shook with proud emotion 
 
 And honor to the giant paid. 
 
 A king came, to him climbing up. 
 
 An Order in his one hand bearing: 
 "Who great become, this sign are wearing." 
 — The growling giant said but "Stop!" 
 
 The frightened king fell down again, 
 Began to weep with features ashen : 
 "My Order is in this rude fashion 
 Refused by just the greatest men. 
 
 "My dear man, take it, 'tis but fit. 
 
 Of your king's honor be the warder; 
 On your breast greater grows the Order, 
 And we who bear it, too, by it." — 
 
1 92 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 The Arctic giant was too good, — 
 A foible oft ascribed to giants, 
 Who foolish trust in little clients, — 
 
 He took it, — while we mocking stood. 
 
 But all the kings crept to him then, 
 
 And each his Order brought, to know it 
 Thereby renewed and greater, so it 
 
 Gave rank to needy noblemen. 
 
 Honi soit . . . and all the rest; 
 
 Soon Orders covered all his breast. 
 
 But oh! they greater grew no tittle, 
 And he grew so confounded little. 
 
 ROMSDAL 
 
 CjOME up on deck! The morning is clear, — 
 Memory wakes, as the landmarks appear. 
 
 How many the islands, green and cheery. 
 The salt-licking skerries, weed-wound, smeary! 
 
 On this side, on that side, they frolic before us. 
 Good friends, but wild, — in frightened chorus 
 Sea-fowl shriek round us, a flying legion. 
 
 We are in a region 
 Of storms historic, unique for aye. 
 
 We fare the fishermen's venturesome way! 
 Far out the bank and the big fish shoaling. 
 
ROMSDAL 193 
 
 The captain narrates; and just now unrolling 
 Sails run to shore a swift racing match; — 
 Good is the catch. 
 
 Yes, yes, — I recognize them again, 
 
 Romsdal's boats' weather-beaten men. 
 
 They know how to sail, when need 's at hand. 
 
 But I 'm forgetting to look towards land! 
 
 It whelms the sight 
 
 Like lightning bright, — 
 
 In memory graven, but not so great. 
 
 Wherever I suffer my eyes to wander, 
 Stand mountain-giants, both here and yonder, 
 The loin of one by the other's shoulder. 
 Naught else to where earth and sky are blending. 
 The dread of a world's din daunts the beholder; 
 The silence vastens the vision unending. 
 
 Some are in white and others in blue. 
 
 With pointed tops that emulous tower; 
 
 Some mass their power. 
 
 In marching columns their purpose pursue. 
 
 Away, you small folk! — In there "The Preacher" 
 
 In high assembly the service intoning 
 
 Of magnates primeval, their patriarch owning ! 
 
 Of what does he preach, my childhood's teacher.? 
 
 So often, so often to him I listened, 
 
 In eager worship, devout and lowly; 
 
194 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 My songs were christened 
 
 In light that fell from his whiteness holy, 
 
 — How great it is ! I can finish never. 
 
 Great thoughts that in life and legend we treasure 
 
 Stream towards the scene in persistent endeavor, 
 
 The mighty impression to grasp and measure, — 
 
 Dante's hell, India's myth-panorama, 
 
 Shakespeare's earth-overarching drama, 
 
 Aeschylus' thunders that purge and free, 
 
 Beethoven's powerful symphony, — 
 
 They widen and heighten, they cloud and brighten: 
 
 — Like small ants scrambling and soft-cooing doves. 
 
 They tumble backward and flee affrighted; — 
 
 As if a dandy in dress-coat and gloves 
 
 The mountains approached and to dance invited. 
 
 No, tempt them not! Their retainer be! 
 
 You '11 learn then later. 
 
 How life with the great must make you greater. 
 
 If you are humble, they '11 say it themselves. 
 That something is greater than e'en their greatest.' 
 Look how the little river that delves 
 High in the notch within limits straitest. 
 Through ice first burrowed and stone, a brook. 
 Slowly the giants asunder wearing! 
 Unmoved before, their face now and bearing 
 They had to change 'mid the spring-flood's laughter; 
 Millions of years have followed thereafter. 
 Millions of years it also took. 
 
ROMSDAL 195 
 
 In stamps the fjord now to look on their party, 
 Lifts his sou'-wester, gives greeting to them. 
 Whoever at times in their fog could view them 
 Has seen him near to their very noses; — 
 The fjord 's not famed for his well-bred poses. 
 
 Towards him hurry, all white-foam-faced, 
 
 Broolcs and rivers in whirling haste, 
 
 All of his family, frolicsome, naughty. 
 
 If ever the mountains the fjord would immure. 
 
 Their narrows press nigher, a prison sure; — 
 
 His water-hands then with a gesture haughty 
 
 Seize the whole saucy pass like a shell; 
 
 Set to his mouth, he begins to blow it 
 
 With western-gale-Iungs, — and then you may know it. 
 
 Loud is the noise, and the swift currents swell. 
 
 Forcing the coast, a big fjord, black and gray. 
 
 Breaks us our way; 
 
 Waterfalls rushing on both sides rumble. 
 
 Sponge-wet and slow. 
 
 Cloud-masses over the mountain-flanks fumble; 
 
 The sun and mist, lo. 
 
 Symbol of struggle eternal show. 
 
 This is my Romsdal's unruly land! 
 Home-love rejoices. 
 
 All things I see, have eyes and have voices. 
 
 The people? I know them, each man understand. 
 
196 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Though never I saw him nor with him have 
 
 spoken; 
 I know this folk, for the fjord is their token. 
 
 One is the fjord in the storm's battle-fray, 
 
 Another is he when the sunbeams play 
 
 In midsummer's splendor. 
 
 And radiant, happy his heart is tender. 
 
 Whatever has form, 
 
 He bears on his breast with affection warm. 
 
 Mirrors it, fondles it, — 
 
 Be it so bare as the mossy gray rubble, 
 
 Be it so brief as a brook's fleeting bubble. 
 
 Oh, what a brightness! Beauty, soul-ravishing. 
 Shines from his prayer^ that now he be shriven 
 Of all the past! And penitence lavishing. 
 All he confesses; with glad homage given 
 Mirrors and masses 
 Deep the mountains' high peaks and passes. 
 
 The old giants think now: He's not really bad; 
 In greater degree he 's wrathful and glad 
 Than others perchance; is false not at all. 
 But reckless, capricious, — true son of Romsdal. 
 
 Right are the mountains ! This race-type keeping. 
 
 They saw men creeping 
 
 Over the ridges, scant fodder reaping. 
 
ROMSDAL 197 
 
 They saw men eager 
 
 Toil on the sea, though their take was meager, 
 
 Plow the steep slope and trench the bog-valley. 
 
 To bouts with the rock the brown nag rally. 
 
 Saw their faults flaunted, — 
 
 Buck-like they bicker. 
 
 Love well their liquor, — 
 
 But know not defeat, — hoist the sail undaunted! 
 
 Different the districts; but all in all: 
 Spirits vivacious, with longings that spur them, 
 Depths full of song, with billows that stir them, 
 Folk of the Qord and the sudden squall. 
 
 Viking-abode, I hail you with wonder! 
 High-built the wall, broad sea-floor thereunder, 
 Hall lit by sun-bows on waterfall vapors, 
 Hangings of green, — your dwellers the drapers. 
 Viking-born race, — 'tis you I exalt! 
 
 It costs in under so high a vault 
 
 A struggle long unto lordship stable ; 
 
 Not all who have tried to succeed, were able. 
 
 It costs to recover the wealth of the fjord 
 
 From wanton waste and in power to hoard. 
 
 It costs; — but who conquers is made a man. 
 
 I know there are that can. 
 
198 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 HOLGER DRACHMANN 
 
 Spring's herald, hail! You've rent the forest's quiet? 
 
 Your hair is wet, and you are leaf-strewn, dusty . . . 
 
 With your powers lusty 
 
 Have you raised a riot ? 
 
 What noise about you of the flood set free. 
 
 That follows at your heels, — turn back and see: 
 
 It spurts upon you! — Was it that you fought for? 
 
 You were in there where stumps and trunks are rotting, 
 
 Where long the winter-graybeards have been plotting 
 
 To prison safe that which a lock they wrought for. 
 
 But power gave you Pan, the ancient god ! 
 
 They cried aloud and cursed your future lot? 
 
 Your gallant feat they held a robber's fraud? 
 
 — Each spring it happens; but is soon forgot. 
 
 You cast you down beside the salt sea's wave. 
 It too is free; dances with joy to find you. 
 You know the music well; for Pan resigned you 
 His art one evening by a viking's grave. 
 
 But while on nature's loving lap you lie. 
 The tramp of battle on the land you hear. 
 You see the steamers as they northward steer 
 With freedom's flag; — of your name comes a cry. 
 
 And so is torn between the two your breast: — 
 Freedom's bold fighters, who now proudly rally. 
 
HOLGER DRACHMANN 199 
 
 In nature's life and legend dreamy rest; 
 The former chide, the latter lures to dally. 
 
 Your songs sound, some as were a war-horn braying, 
 Some softly purl like streams on reedy strand. 
 Half nature-sprite and half as man you stand, 
 The two not yet one law of life obeying. 
 
 But as you seem and as yourself you are 
 (The faun's love that the viking's longing tinges). 
 We welcome you, no lock is left nor bar, — 
 You bring along the door and both the hinges. 
 
 Just this it is that we are needing now: 
 The spring, the spring ! These stifling fumes we bear 
 Of royal incense and of monkish snuff. 
 Of corpses in romantic cloak and ruff. 
 Are bad for morals and for lungs: Fresh air! 
 
 Rather a draught of Songs Venetian, cheerful. 
 With southern wantonness and color-wonders, — 
 Rather "Two Shots" (although they make us fearful) 
 Against our shallow breeding and its blunders. 
 
 Spring's herald, hail! come from the forest's choir. 
 From ocean's roar, from armed hosts and grim ! 
 Though sometimes carelessly you struck the lyre, — 
 Where rich growth is, one can the rank shoots trim. 
 The small trolls jeer the gestures of a giant, 
 I love you so, — unique and self-reliant. 
 
200 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 A MEETING 
 
 . . . O'er uplands fresh swift sped my sleigh , 
 A light snow fell; along the way 
 
 Stood firs and birches slender. 
 The former pondered deep, alone, 
 The latter laughed, their white boughs shone;- 
 
 All brings a picture tender. 
 
 So light and free is now the air; 
 Of all its burdens stripped it bare 
 
 The snow with playful sally. 
 I glimpse behind its veil so thin 
 A landscape gay, and high within 
 
 A snow-peak o'er the valley. 
 
 But from the border white and brown, 
 Where'er I look, there 's peeping down 
 
 A face . . . but whose, whose is it.? 
 I bore my gaze 'neath cap and brim 
 And see the snowflakes swarm and swim; — 
 
 Will some one here me visit? 
 
 A star fell on my glove . . . right here . . ; 
 And here again ... its unlike peer; . . . 
 
 They will with riddles pose me. 
 And smiles that in the air abound 
 From eyes so good ... I look around . . . 
 
 'T is memory besnows me. 
 
THE POET zoi 
 
 The stars spin fine their filigree, 
 Can hidden spirits in it be? 
 
 There haunts me something awing - . . 
 You finer birch, you snow unstained. 
 You purer air, — a soul you've gained? 
 
 Who is it here now drawing 
 
 His features dear in nature's face. 
 In all this fascinating grace. 
 
 In falling stars that cheat me, — 
 In these white gleams that finely glance. 
 In all this silent rhythmic dance? . . . 
 
 Hans Brecke! — comes to meet me. 
 
 THE POET 
 
 The poet does the prophet's deeds; 
 In times of need with new life pregnant. 
 When strife and suffering are regnant, 
 His faith with light ideal leads. 
 The past its heroes round him posts. 
 He rallies now the present's hosts. 
 The future opes 
 Before his eyes. 
 Its pictured hopes 
 He prophesies. 
 Ever his people's forces vernal 
 The poet frees, — by right eternal. 
 
POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 He turns the people's trust to doubt 
 
 Of heathendom and Moloch-terror; 
 
 'Neath thought of God, cold-gray with error, 
 
 He sees grow green each fresh, new sprout. 
 
 Set free, these spread abroad, above, 
 
 Bear fruit of power and of love 
 
 In each man's soul. 
 
 And make it warm 
 
 And make it whole. 
 
 In wrath transform, 
 Till light and courage fill the nation: 
 In life is God's best revelation. 
 
 Away the kingly cloak he tears 
 
 And on the people's shoulder places, 
 
 So it no more need make grimaces 
 
 To borrowed clothes some highness wears, 
 
 But be itself its majesty 
 
 In right of spirit-dynasty. 
 
 In saga's light 
 
 On heart and brain, 
 
 In men of might 
 
 From its loins ta'en. 
 In will unbiased and unbroken. 
 In manly deed and bold word spoken. 
 
 His songs the nation's sins chastise. 
 He hates a lie, as truth's high teacher 
 (No Sunday-, but a weekday-preacher. 
 Who, suffering, still the wrong defies). 
 
THE POET 203 
 
 Against false peace he plies his lance, 
 'Gainst cowardice and ignorance, — 
 No bribe he knows 
 From nation's hand 
 Nor king's command; 
 But his way goes. 
 And when he wavers, sorrow scourges 
 His heart and free of passion purges. 
 
 He is a brother of the small, 
 
 Of women, as of all who sufFer, 
 
 The new and weak, when waves grow rougher, 
 
 He steers, till fairer breezes fall. 
 
 Greater he grows without his will 
 
 By deeds his calling to fulfil. 
 
 And near the tomb 
 
 To God he sighs. 
 
 That soon may rise 
 
 A richer bloom 
 To deck his people's soul with flowers 
 Of beauty far beyond his powers. 
 
204 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 PSALMS 
 I 
 
 1 SEEM to be 
 
 Sundered from Thee, 
 Thou Harmony of all creation. 
 
 Am I disowned 
 
 For talents loaned 
 And useless hid in vain probation? 
 
 Now powerless, 
 
 In weariness, 
 Now in despair a beggar humble 
 
 For help, for cheer, 
 
 A voice, an ear. 
 To hear and guide, while on I stumble. 
 
 God, let me be 
 
 Of use to Thee! 
 If vain my purpose and my powers, 
 
 Then sinks from sight 
 
 My star, — and night 
 Henceforth my steps enfolding lowers. 
 
 Then break and bind 
 
 My ravaged mind 
 The terrors dread of doubt and anguish. 
 
 I know the pack, 
 
 I drove them back; — 
 Only to-day does courage languish. 
 
PSALMS Z05 
 
 Oh, come now, peace! 
 
 Come faith's increase. 
 That life's strong chain shall ever bind me! 
 
 That not in vain 
 
 I strive and strain 
 Myself to seek until I find me! 
 
 II 
 Honor the springtide life ever adorning. 
 
 That all things has made! 
 Things smallest have some resurrectional morning, 
 
 The forms alone fade. 
 
 Life begets life. 
 Potencies higher surprise. 
 
 Kind begets kind. 
 Heedless of time as it flies. 
 Worlds pass aw^ay and arise. 
 
 Nothing so small but there 's something still smaller, 
 
 No one can see. 
 Nothing so great but there 's something still greater 
 
 Beyond it can be. 
 
 Worms in the earth — 
 Mountains to make they essay. 
 
 Dust without worth. 
 Sands with which sea-billows play, — 
 Founders of kingdoms were they. 
 
 Infinite all, where the smallest and greatest 
 Oneness unfold. 
 
2o6 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 No one has seen what was first, — and the latest 
 
 None shall behold. 
 
 Laws underlie, 
 Order the all they maintain. 
 
 Need and supply 
 Bring one another; our bane 
 Boots to the general gain. 
 
 Eternity's offspring and germ are we all now. 
 
 Thoughts have their true 
 Roots in our race's first morning; they fall now, 
 
 Query and clue. 
 
 Freighted with seed 
 Into eternity's soil; 
 
 Joy be your meed. 
 That your brief life's fleeting toil 
 Fruit for eternity bears. 
 
 Join in the joy of all life, every being, 
 
 Brief bloom of its spring! 
 Honor th ' eternal, our human lot freeing 
 
 From fetters that cling! 
 
 Adding your mite. 
 With the eternal unite! 
 
 Though you decay. 
 Breathe as a moment you may, 
 Air of eternity's day! 
 
PSALMS Z07 
 
 III 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Who art Thou, whom a thousand names trace 
 Through all times that are gone and each tongue ? 
 Thou wert infinite yearning's embrace, 
 Thou wert hope when the yoke heavy hung, 
 Thou wert darkening death-terror's guest, 
 Thou wert sun that with life-gladness blessed. 
 Still Thine image we changefully fashion, 
 And each form we would call revelation; 
 Each man holds his for true with deep passion, — 
 Till it crumbles in poignant negation. 
 
 SOLO 
 
 Who Thou art, none can tell. 
 
 But I know Thou dost dwell 
 As the limitless search in my soul — it is Thou! — 
 
 After justice and light. 
 
 After victory's right 
 For the new that 's revealed, it is Thou, it is Thou ! 
 
 Every law that we see 
 
 Or believe there may be. 
 Though we never can knowledge attain, it is Thou! — 
 
 As my armor and aid 
 
 Round my life they are laid. 
 And with joy I avow, it is Thou, it is Thou! 
 
2o8 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Since we never Thine essence can know. 
 
 We have thought mediators of Thee; — 
 
 But the ages their impotence show, 
 
 We stand still, while no way we can see. 
 
 If in sickness for succor we thirst, 
 
 Is there balm in the dreams that have burst? 
 
 Stars of hope and of longing eternal. 
 
 That we saw o'er life's sorrows arisen, 
 
 Shall they sink in death's terrors nocturnal. 
 
 Only turn into worms in our prison? 
 
 SOLO 
 
 He that liveth in me, 
 
 Needeth no one to be 
 Mediator; I own Him indeed: it is Thou! 
 
 Is eternal hope prized 
 
 As from Him; is baptized 
 By His spirit my own, — is it Thou, is it Thou — 
 
 Shall not I, who am dust. 
 
 His eternity trust? 
 I take humbly my law; for I know, it is Thou! 
 
 Was I worth Thy word: Live! 
 
 Let Thy life power give, 
 When Thou wilt, as Thou wilt, — it is Thou, it is 
 Thou! 
 
QUESTION AND ANSWER zog 
 
 QUESTION AND ANSWER 
 
 THE CHILD 
 
 r ATHER ! Within the forest's bound 
 
 No bird I found, 
 
 No sound of song the woods around. 
 
 THE FATHER 
 
 The bird that glad his song us gave, 
 
 Flies o'er the wave; 
 
 Perhaps he there will find his grave. 
 
 ;, THE CHILD 
 
 But why does he not wait till later? 
 
 THE FATHER 
 
 He goes where light and warmth are greater. 
 
 THE CHILD 
 
 Father! It selfish seems to me, 
 
 Far off to flee, 
 
 When all we others here must be. 
 
 THE FATHER 
 
 With new-born spring comes new-born song; 
 
 By instinct strong 
 
 The better new he '11 bring erelong. 
 
210 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 THE CHILD 
 
 But if in death the cold waves swallow — ? 
 
 THE FATHER 
 
 Others will come; his kin will follow. 
 
 SONG FOR NORWAY'S RIFLEMEN 
 
 (i88.) 
 
 Tly the banner, fly the banner ! 
 
 For our freedom fight! 
 
 'Neath the banner, 'neath the banner. 
 
 Riflemen unite! 
 
 Graybeard in the Storting 
 
 Gives his vote for right and truth, 
 
 Rifle-voice supporting 
 
 Of our armed youth. 
 
 Music runeful 
 
 Ring out tuneful 
 Bullets sent point-blank. 
 
 Fiery coursing, 
 
 Freedom forcing 
 Way to royal rank; 
 They from silent valleys 
 To the Storting's rallies 
 Bring the clear "Rah! Rah!" 
 And there clamors o'er us 
 Loud the rifle chorus. 
 
WORKMEN'S MARCH 211 
 
 Piercing and repeated: "Rah! 
 
 Rah! 
 Rah-rah, rah-rah, rah-rah, rah-rah." 
 
 As the lingering echo rattles, 
 Listens sure our Mother Norway, 
 That her sons can go the war-way. 
 Fight her freedom's future battles. 
 
 WORKMEN'S MARCH 
 
 Left foot! Right foot! Lines unbroken! 
 Keeping time is power's token. 
 That makes one of many, many. 
 That makes bold, if fear daunts any. 
 That makes small the load and lighter, 
 That makes near the goal and brighter. 
 Till it greets us gained with laughter. 
 And we seek the next one after. 
 
 Left foot ! Right foot ! Lines unbroken ! 
 Keeping time is power's token. 
 Marching, marching of few hundreds. 
 No one heeds it, never one dreads; 
 Marching, marching of few thousands. 
 Here and there wakes some to hearing; 
 Marching, marching hundred thousands,- 
 All will mark that thunder nearing. 
 
POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Left foot! Right foot! Lines unbroken! 
 
 Keeping time is power's token. 
 
 Let us march all, never weaken 
 
 Time from Vardo down to Viken, 
 
 Vinger up to Bergen's region, — 
 
 Let us make one marching legion. 
 
 Then we '11 rout some wrong from Norway, 
 
 Open wide to right the doorway. 
 
 THE LAND THAT SHALL BE 
 
 (dedicated to HERMAN ANKER AND M. ANKER ON THE 
 OCCASION OF THEIR SILVER-WEDDING, SEPTEMBER 15, 1888 ) 
 
 Land that shall be! 
 Thither, when thwarted our longings, we sail, — 
 Sighs to the clouds, that we breathe when we fail, 
 Form a mirage of rich valley and mead 
 
 Over our need, — 
 Visions revealing the future until 
 
 Faith shall fulfil, — 
 
 The land that shall be. 
 
 Land that shall be! 
 All of our labor to sow seeds of gain 
 Grows in the ages when our names shall wane, 
 Gathered with others', 't is stored in the true 
 
 Will to renew. 
 
MEN AND WOMEN, STRONG AND SOUND 213 
 
 This then shall carry our labor within, 
 Safely within 
 The land that shall be. 
 
 Land that shall be! 
 Tears that are shed over evil's foul blight, 
 Blood-sweat in conflict to win higher right, 
 Hallow the will unto victory's cost. 
 
 Let us be lost. 
 Rooting out wrong, that the good we may sow. 
 
 Soon overgrow 
 
 The land that shall be. 
 
 Land that shall be! 
 Looming in beauty of colors and song. 
 Golden in sunlight that glad makes and strong. 
 Present in children's eyes, looking to-day 
 
 Down when you pray. 
 Winning good victories gives us the power 
 
 To own a brief hour 
 
 The land that shall be. 
 
 YOUNG MEN AND WOMEN, STRONG AND 
 SOUND 
 
 Young men and women, strong and sound. 
 
 Adorn with beautiful excess 
 
 Of play and song and flower-dress 
 
214 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Our fatherland's ancestral ground. 
 They dream great deeds of ages older, 
 They long to lead to battles bolder. 
 
 Young men and women, strong and sound, 
 Our nation's honor are, in whom 
 Our whole life has its better bloom. 
 Rebirth upon our fathers' ground 
 Of them of yore. Anew there flower 
 The old in young folks' summer-power. 
 
 Young men and women, strong and sound, 
 Can doubly do our deeds and fill 
 With higher hope for all we will, — 
 Are growth in character's deep ground. 
 To larger life drawn by the spirit 
 They from our forefathers inherit. 
 
 NORWAY, NORWAY! 
 
 rNoRWAY, Norway, 
 Rising in blue from the sea's gray and green, 
 Islands around like fledglings tender. 
 Fjord-tongues with slender. 
 Tapering tips in the silence seen. 
 
 Rivers, valleys. 
 Mate among mountains, wood-ridge and slope 
 Wandering follow. Where the wastes lighten. 
 Lake and plain brighten, 
 
MASTER OR SLAVE 215 
 
 Hallow a temple of peace and hope. 
 
 Norway, Norway, 
 Houses and huts, not castles grand, 
 
 Gentle or hard. 
 
 Thee we guard, thee we guard, 
 Thee, our future's fair land. 
 
 Norway, Norway, 
 Glistening heights where skis swiftly go. 
 Harbors with fishermen, salts, and craftsmen, 
 Rivers and raftsmen. 
 Herdsmen and horns and the glacier-glow. 
 
 Moors and meadows. 
 Runes in the woodlands, and wide-mown swaths. 
 Cities like flowers, streams that run dashing 
 Out to the flashing 
 White of the sea, where the fish-school froths. 
 
 Norway, Norway, 
 Houses and huts, not castles grand, 
 
 Gentle or hard, 
 
 Thee we guard, thee we guard, 
 Thee, our future's fair land. 
 
 MASTER OR SLAVE 
 
 Lo, this land that lifts around it 
 Threatening peaks, while stern seas bound it, 
 With cold winters, summers bleak. 
 Curtly smiling, never meek. 
 
2i6 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 'Tis the giant we must master, 
 Till he work our will the faster. 
 He shall carry, though he clamor. 
 He shall haul and saw and hammer, 
 Turn to light the tumbling torrent, — 
 All his din and rage abhorrent 
 Shall, if we but do our duty. 
 Win for us a realm of beauty. 
 
 IN THE FOREST 
 
 J_/iST to the forest-voice murmuring low: 
 All that it saw when alone with its laughter. 
 All that it suffered in times that came after. 
 Mournful it tells, that the wind may know. 
 
 WHEN COMES THE MORNING? 
 (from in god's way) 
 
 W HEN comes the real morning? 
 When golden, the sun's rays hover 
 Over the earth's snow-cover. 
 And where the shadows nestle. 
 Wrestle, 
 
 Lifting lightward the root enringed 
 Till it shall seem an angel winged. 
 Then it is morning. 
 Real, real morning. 
 
WHEN COMES THE MORNING? 217 
 
 But if the weather is bad 
 And my spirit sad, 
 Never morning I know. 
 No. 
 
 Truly, it 's real morning. 
 
 When blossom the buds winter-beaten. 
 
 The birds having drunk and eaten 
 
 Are glad as they sing, divining 
 
 Shining 
 
 Great new crowns to the tree-tops given, 
 
 Cheering the brooks to the broad ocean 
 
 riven. 
 Then it is morning. 
 Real, real morning. 
 
 But if the weather is bad 
 
 And my spirit sad, 
 
 Never morning I know. 
 
 No. 
 
 When comes the real morning? 
 When power to conquer parries 
 Sorrow and storm, and carries 
 Sun to the soul, whose burning 
 Yearning 
 
 Opens in love and calls to others: 
 Good to be unto all as brothers. 
 Then it is morning. 
 Real, real morning. 
 
2i8 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 Greatest power you know 
 — And most dangerous, lo!- 
 Will you this then possess? 
 Yes. 
 
 MAY SEVENTEENTH 
 (1883) 
 
 Wergeland's statue on May seventeenth 
 
 Saw the procession. And as its rear-guard, 
 
 Slow marching masses, 
 
 Strong men, and women with flower-decked presence, 
 
 Come now the peasants, come now the peasants. 
 
 Osterdal's forest's magnificent chieftain 
 Bore the old banner. Soon as we see it 
 Blood-red uplifted, 
 
 Greet it the thousands in thought of its story : 
 That is our glory, that is our glory ! 
 
 Never that lion bore crown that was foreign. 
 Never that cloth was by Dannebrog cloven. 
 I saw the future y 
 
 When with that banner by Wergeland's column 
 Peasants stood solemn, peasants stood solemn. 
 
 Most of our loss in the times that have vanished, 
 Most of our victories, most of our longing. 
 Most that is vital: 
 
FREDERIK HEGEL 219 
 
 Deeds of the past and the future's bold daring 
 Peasants are bearing, peasants are bearing. 
 
 Sorely they suffered for sins once committed, 
 But they arise now. Here m the Storting 
 Stalwart they prove it. 
 
 All, as they come from our land's every region, 
 Peasants Norwegian, peasants Norwegian. 
 
 Hold what they won, with a will to go farther; 
 Whole we must have independence and honor! 
 All of us know it : 
 
 Wergeland's summer bears soon its best flower, — 
 Power in peasants, peasants in power. 
 
 FREDERIK HEGEL 
 I 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 You never came here; but I go 
 Here often and am met by you. 
 Each room and road here must renew 
 The thought of you and your form show 
 Standing with helpful hand extended. 
 As when long since in trust and deed 
 My home you from my foes defended. 
 
 So often, while I wrote this book. 
 The light shone from your genial eye; 
 Then we were one, both you and I 
 
POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 And what in silence being took; 
 So here and there the book possesses 
 Your spirit and your heart's fresh faith, 
 And therefore now your name it blesses. 
 
 I love the air, when growing colder 
 
 It, clear and high, 
 
 The purer sky 
 Broadens with sense of freedom bolder. 
 
 I find in forests joy the keenest 
 
 In autumn days 
 
 When fancy plays, 
 And not when they are young and greenest. 
 
 I knew a man: in autumn clearness 
 
 His even course, — 
 
 His heart's fine force 
 Like autumn sky in soft-hued sheerness. 
 
 His memory is, as — when a-swarming 
 
 The cold blasts first 
 
 Of winter burst — 
 The gentle flame my room first warming. 
 
 When all our outward longings falter. 
 
 And summer's mind 
 
 Within we find. 
 Is friendship's feast round autumn's altar. 
 
OUR LANGUAGE zzi 
 
 OUR LANGUAGE 
 
 (1900) 
 
 1 Hou, who sailest Norse mountain-air, 
 And Denmark's songs by the cradle singest, 
 Who badest in Hald the war-flames flare, 
 And, heard in our children's joy, gently ringest, — 
 
 Thou treasure of treasures, 
 
 Our mother-tongue. 
 
 In pains as in pleasures 
 
 Our home and our tower. 
 
 With God our power, — 
 We hallow thee! 
 
 Whispering secrets that Holberg stored. 
 Thou borest him home to a brighter morning, 
 Didst serve him with armor and whet his sword 
 For satire's assaults and for laughter's warning. 
 
 Thou spirit all knowing. 
 
 Our mother-tongue. 
 
 The ages foregoing, 
 
 The future now growing. 
 
 The present glowing, — 
 We hallow thee! 
 
 Kierkegaard thou to the deeps didst bring. 
 Where life's full currents in God he sounded. 
 
222 POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 For Wergeland wert thou the eagle's wing, 
 That lifted him sunward to heights unbounded. 
 
 Thou treasure of treasures, 
 
 Our mother-tongue, 
 
 In pain as in pleasures 
 
 Our home and our tower, 
 
 With God our power, — 
 We hallow thee! 
 
 Radiant warmth of a May-day 
 Thou to the spring of our freedom gavest. 
 In thy clearness our Norse flags aye 
 With song and honor afar thou wavest. 
 
 Thou spirit all knowing. 
 
 Our mother-tongue. 
 
 The ages foregoing, 
 
 The future now growing. 
 
 The present glowing, — 
 We hallow thee! 
 
 O'er the ocean unrollest thou 
 Thy carpet of flowers, a bridge that nigher 
 Can bring dear friends to meet even now, — 
 While faith grows greater and heaven higher. 
 
 Thou treasure of treasures. 
 
 Our mother-tongue. 
 
 In pain as in pleasures 
 
 Our home and our tower. 
 
 With God our power, — 
 We hallow thee! 
 
OUR LANGUAGE 223 
 
 Best of friends that I found wert thou ; 
 Thou waitedst for me in the eyes of mother. 
 And leave me last of them all wilt thou, 
 Who knewest me better than any other. 
 
 Thou spirit all knowing, 
 
 Our mother-tongue. 
 
 The ages foregoing. 
 
 The future now growing, 
 
 The present glowing, — 
 We hallow thee! 
 
NOTES 
 
 PREFATORY 
 
 iJjbRNSTjERNE BjoRNsoN was bom in 1832 and died in 1909. 
 The last edition of his Poems and Songs published in his lifetime 
 is the fourth, dated 1903. It is a volume of two hundred pages, 
 containing one hundred and forty-one pieces, arranged in nearly 
 chronological order from 1857, or just before, to 1900. Of these 
 almost two-thirds appeared in the first edition (1870), ending with 
 Good Cheer and including ten pieces omitted in the other editions, 
 eight poems and two lyrical passages from the drama King Sverre ; 
 the second edition (1880) added the contents in order through 
 Sluestion and Answer and inserted earlier The Angels of Sleep ; the 
 third (1900) extended the additions to include Frederik Hegel. 
 
 This translation presents in the same order the contents of the 
 fourth edition, with the exception of the following ten pieces : 
 
 Bryllupsvise Nr. I. 
 
 Bryllupsvise Nr. II. 
 
 Bryllupsvise Nr. III. 
 
 Bryllupsvise Nr. IF. 
 
 Bryllupsvise Nr. V. 
 
 De norske studenter tilfru Louise Heiberg. 
 
 De norske student ers hilsen med fakkeltog tilderes kgl. hoiheder 
 kronprins Frederik og kronprinsesse Louise. 
 
 Til sorenskriver Mejdells solvbryllup. 
 
 Nytaarsrim til rektor Steen. 
 
 Til maleren Hans Gudes ogfrues guldbryllup. 
 Nine of these are occasional songs in the narrowest sense, with 
 little or no general interest, and showing hardly any of the author's 
 better qualities: five Wedding Songs, a Betrothal Song, a Silver- 
 Wedding Song, a Golden-Wedding Song, and a Students' Song of 
 
226 NOTES 
 
 Greeting to Mrs. Louise Heiberg. The tenth, a characteristic, rather 
 long poem of vigor and value. New Yearns Epistle in Rhyme to Rec- 
 tor Steen, is extremely difficult to render into English verse. 
 
 The translator has thought it best not to include any of Bjorn- 
 son's lyric productions not contained in the collection published 
 with his sanction during his life, the other lyrics in his tales, dramas, 
 and novels, many occasional short poems in periodicals and news- 
 papers which were abandoned by their author to their fugitive fate, 
 two noble lyrical cantatas, and a few fine poems written after the 
 year 1900. 
 
 The translation aims to reproduce as exactly as possible the verse- 
 form, meter, and rhyme of the original. This has been judged de- 
 sirable because music has been composed for so many of these songs 
 and poems, and each of them is, as it were, one with its musical 
 setting. But such reproduction seems also, on the whole, to be most 
 faithftil and satisfactory, when the translator is not endowed with 
 poetic genius equal to that of the author. The very numerous double 
 (dissyllabic) rhymes of the Norwegian are not easy to render in 
 English. Recourse to the English present participle has been avoided 
 as much as possible. If it still seems to be too frequent, the trans- 
 lator asks some measure of indulgence in view of the fact that the 
 use here of the English present participle is formally not so unlike 
 that of the inflectional endings and of the post-positive article in 
 Norwegian. 
 
 The purpose of the Notes is to assist the better understanding 
 and appreciation of the contents of the book, by furnishing the ne- 
 cessary historical and biographical information. Of the persons re- 
 ferred to it is essential to know their dates, life-work, character, 
 influence, and relation to Bjornson. The Notes have been drawn 
 from the accessible encyclopedias, biographical dictionaries, biblio- 
 graphies, and histories. The notes of Julius Elias to his edition of 
 
NOTES 227 
 
 German translations of Bjornson's poems made by various writers 
 and published in 1908 have been freely and gratefiilly used. 
 
 The Introduction is designed not so much to ofFer new and ori- 
 ginal criticism as to present the opinions generally held in Scan- 
 dinavia, and, of course, chiefly in Norway. The lyric poetry of 
 Bjornson has been excellently discussed by Christian Collin in 
 Bjornstjerne Bjornson. Hans Barndom og [A^i/ij/k, by Henrik Jaeger 
 in Illustreret norsk literaturhistorie, and by various authors, in- 
 cluding Swedes and Danes, in articles of Bjornstjerne Bjornson, 
 Festskrift i anledning af hans yo aars fodselsdag. To all of these 
 special indebtedness is here acknowledged. 
 
 Nenu Ha'ven, Connecticut, June, 1 9 1 5 
 
 Nils Finn. "There has hardly been written later so excellent a con- 
 tinuation of the old Norwegian humorous ballad as this poem (from 
 the winter of 1856-57), written originally in the Romsdal dialect with 
 which Bjornson wished 'to astonish the Danes.'" (Collin, ii, 147.) 
 
 Page 10. 
 
 Venevil. Midsummer Day = sanktehans = Saint John's (Feast), on 
 June 24, next to Christmas the chief popular festival in Norway; the 
 time when nature and human life have fullest light and power. 
 
 Page 12. 
 
 Over the Lofty Mo untains. " Really Bjornson's first patriotic song. 
 . . . Describes one of the main motive forces in all the history of the 
 Norwegian people, the inner impulse to expansion and the adventur- 
 ous longing for what is great and distant. . . . Written in the narrow, 
 hemmed-in Eikis valley." (Collin, ii, 308, 309 ) 
 
 Page 19. 
 
 Our Country. Written for the celebration of the Seventeenth of May 
 in Bergen in the year 1859. This is Norway's Constitution Day, corre- 
 sponding to our Fourth of July, the anniversary of the day in 1 8 14 when 
 
228 NOTES 
 
 atEidsvold(see pages 229, 230) a representative convention declared the 
 country's independence and adopted a Constitution. The celebration of 
 the day was instituted as a result of King Karl Johan's proposals for 
 changes in the Constitution during the years 1821 to 18 44, especially 
 in favor of an absolute veto. It was taken up in Christiania in 1 8 24, and 
 spread rapidly to all the cities in the land, was opposed by the King 
 and omitted in 1828, takenupby the students of the University in 1829, 
 and soon after 1830 made by Henrik Wergeland (see page 262) the 
 chief of Norwegian patriotic festivals. In 1870 Bjornson conceived and 
 put into practice the "barnetog" or children's procession on this day, 
 when the children march also, each carrying a flag. 
 
 Bauta, prehistoric, uncut, narrow, tall, memorial stone, from the 
 bronze age. 
 
 Ho-ius, burial mounds, barrows. 
 
 Page 21. 
 
 Song for Norway. Written in the summer of 1859 in connection 
 with the tale Arne, but not included in that book. The people of Nor- 
 way have adopted this poem as their national hymn, because it is a 
 vigorous, picturesque summary of the glorious history of the country, 
 in whose every line patriotic love vibrates. 
 
 Stanza 2. Harald tairhair (860-93 3) was the first to unite all Norway 
 In one kingdom as a sort of feudal state. His success in his struggles 
 with the petty kings who opposed him was made complete by his vic- 
 tory over viking forces in the battle on the waters of Hafursfjord, 872. 
 Many of the rebels emigrated, a movement which led to the settlement 
 of Iceland from 874 on. 
 
 Haakon the Good (935-961) was the youngest son of Harald Fair- 
 hair, born in the latter's old age. He was reared in England with King 
 Ethelstane, who had him taught Christianity and baptized. When he 
 was well settled on the throne in Norway, he tried to introduce Chris- 
 tianity, but without success. He improved the laws and organized the 
 war forces of the land. 
 
 Eyvind Finnssiin, uncle of Haakon, was a great skald, who sang his 
 deeds and Norway's sorrow over his death. 
 
 Olafthe Saint (1015-1030) was a man of force and daring, as is 
 shown by his going on viking expeditions when only twelve years old. 
 He became a Christian in Normandy. Returning to Norway in 1015, 
 he established himself as King and spread his authority as a stern ruler. 
 With more or less violence he Christianized the whole land. This and 
 
NOTES 229 
 
 his sternness led to an uprising, which was supported by the Danish 
 King, Knut the Great. Olaf died a hero's death in the battle of Stikle- 
 stad, and not long after became Norway's patron saint, to whose grave 
 pilgrimages were made from all the North. His son, Magnus the Good, 
 (see page 231), was chosen King in 1035. 
 
 S'verre (i 182-1202) was a man of unusual physical and mental 
 powers, calm and dignified,and wonderfully eloquent. Yet he was a war 
 king, and the civil conflicts of his time were a misfortune for Norway, 
 although he bravely defended the royal prerogatives and the land against 
 the usurpation of temporal power by the Church of Rome, and put an 
 end to ecclesiastical rule in Norway. 
 
 Stansui 3. About five centuries of less renown for Norway are passed 
 over, and this and the following stanza refer to the time of the Great 
 Northern War, 1700-21, and the danger arising from Charles XII 
 of Sweden. From 13 19 to 1523 Norway was in union with Denmark 
 and Sweden ; from 1523 with Denmark only. In this war, waged by 
 Denmark-Norway, Russia, and Saxony-Poland against Charles XII, in 
 order to lessen the might which Sweden had gained by the Thirty Years' 
 War, Norwegian peasants, men and women, took up arms against the 
 Swedes. 
 
 Peasant is in this volume the usual rendering of the word "bonde" 
 in the original; for its fuller significance see the note on page 263. 
 
 'Tordenskjold, Peter (i 69 i-i 720), agreat Norwegian naval hero, whose 
 original name was Wessel, and who was bom in Trondhjem. He re- 
 ceived the name Tordenskjold when he was ennobled. By his remark- 
 able achievements he contributed much to the favorable issue of the 
 Great Northern War ; he often had occasion to ravage the coast of 
 Sweden and to protect that of Norway. 
 
 Stanza^. Fredrikshald. Here, on September 1 1, 1718, Charles XII met 
 his death on his second invasion of Norway. The citizens had earlier 
 burned the city, so that it might not afford shelter to the Swedes against 
 the cannon of the fortress Fredriksten. 
 
 Stanzas 5 and 6. Again a rather long period of peace is passed over. 
 In 1807 Denmark was induced by Napoleon to join the continen- 
 tal system. England bombarded Copenhagen and captured it and the 
 Danish fleet. The war lasted seven years for Norway also, which was 
 blockaded by the English fleet and suffered sorely for lack of the neces- 
 saries of life. But the nation's sense of independence grew, and when 
 the Peace of Kiel in January, 18 14, separated Norway from Denmark, 
 
2 30 NOTES 
 
 Norway refused to be absorbed by Sweden, and through a representa- 
 tive assembly at Eidsvold declared its independence, adopted a Con- 
 stitution on May 17, 18 14, and chose as King, Prince Christian Fred- 
 erik,the later King Christian VI II of Denmark. The Swedish Crown 
 Prince Karl Johan led an invasion of Norway in July, and there was 
 fighting until the Convention of Moss, August 14, in which he ap- 
 proved the Norwegian Constitution in return for the abdication of 
 Christian Frederik. Negotiations then led to the federation of Norway 
 as an independent kingdom with Sweden in a union. This was for- 
 mally concluded on November 4, 18 1 5, by the adoption of the Act of 
 Union, and the election of the Swedish King Karl XIII as King of 
 Norway. 
 
 The last four lines of stanza 6 refer to " Scandinavism," /.^., a move- 
 ment beginning some time before 1848 to bring about a close federa- 
 tion or alliance of the three Northern kingdoms (see pages 239, 240). 
 
 Page 30. 
 
 Answer from Norway. First printed in a newspaper, April 7, i860, 
 with the title "Song for the Common People," this poem refers to 
 a stage of the long conflict over the question of a viceroy in Norway, 
 so important in the history of the union of Sweden and Norway. The 
 Norwegian Constitution gave to the King power to send a viceroy 
 to reside in Norway, and to name as such either a Swede or a Norwe- 
 gian. Until about 1830 the viceroy had always been a Swede, thereafter 
 always a Norwegian. On December 9, 1859, the Norwegian Storting 
 voted to abolish this article in a proposed revision of the Constitution. 
 The matter was discussed in Sweden with vehemence and passion. The 
 storm of feeling raged most violently in March, i860, when on the 
 1 7th, in Stockholm, this revision was rejected. However, no viceroy was 
 appointed after 1S59, and in 1873 the question was amicably settled as 
 the Norwegians desired. 
 
 While the situation was tense, an unfounded rumor had spread, that 
 on one occasion the Norwegian flag had been raised over the residence 
 of the Swedish-Norwegian Minister in Vienna. This caused loud com- 
 plaints in Sweden, that "the Norwegian colors had displaced the Swed- 
 ish," while in the House of Nobles a member declared that Norway 
 ought to be "an accessory" to Sweden; that "young, inexperienced" 
 Norway's demand of equality with Sweden was like a commoner's 
 importunity for equality with a nobleman. He went on to say that the 
 Swedish nation must crave again its (pure) flag : " For in our ancient 
 
NOTES 231 
 
 blue-yellow Swedish flag, that waved over Lutzen's blood-drenched 
 battlefield, are our honor, our memories, and thousand-fold deaths." 
 
 The (pure, i.e., without the mark of union) Swedish flag consists of 
 a yellow cross on a blue ground, the (pure) Norwegian flag of a blue 
 cross within a white border on a red ground ; in each the cross extends 
 to the four margins. At the date of this poem each flag showed a mark 
 of union, a diagonal combination of the colors of both, in the upper 
 field nearest the staff. (For a brief history of the flag of Norway, see 
 page 258.) 
 
 Stanza 2. Magnus the Good, son of Olaf the Saint, reigned from 1035 
 till his death in 1047. He was victorious in conflict with the Danish 
 King Knut the Hard, and by agreement received Denmark after his 
 death. Magnus died in Denmark on one of several successful expedi- 
 tions against the rebellious Svein Jarl. 
 
 Fredrikshald, see page 229. 
 
 Ad(e)ler, Kort Sivertsen (1622-1675), was a distinguished admiral, 
 born in Norway. He reorganized the Danish-Norwegian fleet, which late 
 in the seventeenth century several times defeated the Swedish. 
 
 Stanza 3. Liitzen. In the battle of Liitzen, November 16, 1632, Gus- 
 tavus Adolphus of Sweden was killed. 
 
 Grandsire's ancient seat, symbol of Norway's ancient power and 
 glory. In one of the Swedish speeches were these words i " If Norway 
 had had a Gustavus Adolphus, a Torstenson, a Charles the Twelfth, if 
 its name like ours had gone forth victorious in history, no Swede would 
 deny its right to stand before us. This is, however, not the case. . . ." 
 
 Stanza 4. Sverre Priest, see page 229. When young he was a priest. 
 
 Stanzas 5 and 6. Christie, F. F. K. (i 778-1 849), was a vice-president 
 of the convention of Eidsvold, April 10-May 20, 1814, and presi- 
 dent of the first extraordinary Storting after the convention of Moss, 
 August, 1814. To him more than to any other man was due the se- 
 curing of Norway's independence and welfare in the framing and adop- 
 tion of the Constitution and the Act of Union. In a sense he was the 
 real founder of Norway's liberty and constitutional government (see 
 pages 229, 230). 
 
 Stanza 7. Wessel = Tordensijold, see page 229. 
 
 Stanza 8. Torgny, At the Ting in Upsala, February, 1018, when the 
 Swedish King Olaf refused peace and his daughter's hand to the Nor- 
 wegian King, Olaf the Saint, the aged and revered peasant lawman. 
 
232 NOTES 
 
 Torgny, the wisest and most influential man in the land, arose and re- 
 buked the King, declaring that the peasants wished peace with Nor- 
 way, and concluding thus ; "If you will not do what we say, we shall 
 attack and kill you and not suffer from you breach of peace and law." 
 The King yielded, and made a promise which he afterwards broke. 
 
 Page 33. 
 
 JOHAN LuDViG Heiberg (December 14, 1791-August 25, i860), the 
 leading Danish dramatist and critic of his time, an esthetic genius, 
 with, however, the stamp of the man of the world always on his life and 
 works. He early studied mathematics and natural science, medicine 
 and philology, Danish and foreign literature, and was also very musi- 
 cal. He was uncertain whether to become a poet and esthetic critic, or 
 a physician, or a natural scientist, or a surveyor, or — a diplomat. From 
 about I S 24. he studied and adopted the Hegelian philosophy, on which 
 he based his esthetics, and for which he was the first spokesman in 
 Denmark. In the years 1825 to 1836 he founded the Danish vaude- 
 ville, in which his aim was to recreate the national drama. His vaude- 
 ville was a lighter musical-dramatic genre, a situation-play with loosely 
 sketched characters and the addition of music to concentrate the mood. 
 In it he sought a union with the national comedy, and like Holberg 
 to treat subjects from his own age and land. From 1830 to 1836 Hei- 
 berg was professor of logic, esthetics, and Danish literature in the 
 Military School. From 1 8 39 on, censor of the Royal Theater, of which 
 he was director from 1849 ^'^ ^^S^> without great success because of 
 circumstances beyond his control. In the year 1840 he began to be 
 deeply interested in the study of acoustics, optics, and astronomy, and 
 soon fitted up a small astronomical observatory at his residence ; he 
 published an astronomical annual, 1844-46. In 1831 Heiberg married 
 Johanne Louise P'atges (18 12-18 90). The daughter of poor parents, 
 she became a pupil of the dancing-school of the Royal Theater in 1820, 
 but went over to the drama in 1826. Wonderfully gifted, she developed 
 rapidly and became Denmark's greatest actress. Her last appearance 
 on the stage was in 1864. She favored the performance of Bjornson's 
 and Ibsen's earlier dramas on the stage in Copenhagen, with the man- 
 agement of which she had official connection from 1867 to 1874. 
 
 "Nevj Year" ringing o'er the Northland. Shortly before Christmas, 
 1 8 1 6, Heiberg published his polemical romantic comedy Yule Jests and 
 Nemo Year's Jokes, a brilliant revelation of his superiority as a wit and 
 a satirist. Attacking the excessive sentimentality of Danish literature 
 
NOTES 233 
 
 and taste at that time, it made a sensation and led to the improvement 
 of both. 
 
 Page 36. 
 
 The Ocean. Arnljot Gelline, a man of prowess, from Tiundaland,the 
 region about Upsala. When Olaf the Saint went from Sweden to Nor- 
 way in 1030, Arnljot Gelline was present in his army at Stilclestad, 
 and after baptism was assigned to a place nearest in front of the royal 
 standard. He fought stoutly, but fell early in the battle. 
 
 Fikar, a brother of Arnljot Gelline, who sailed with Olaf Trygvason 
 on the Long Serpent, and died fighting in his post of honor on the prow. 
 (See notes below.) 
 
 Page 39. 
 
 Alone and REPENTANT.This poem was first printed in 18 65, but was 
 probably written in 1861 or 1862 in Germany or Italy. The friend was 
 Ivar Bye, whom Bjornson had saved from distress and social ostracism 
 in Christiania before 1857, when Bye went as actor with Bjornson to 
 the theater in Bergen. He was no great actor but an unusual man, for 
 whom Bjornson had deep respect and warm sympathy. Bjornson de- 
 scribed his character and life-experience in the study " Ivar Bye," first 
 published in 1894, in which he said: "Our literature possesses a me- 
 morial of his way of receiving what was confided to him. It lies in the 
 poem: 'A friend I possess.' I wrote it far away from him, — not that 
 he might have it, his name is not mentioned, and he never had it, but 
 because at that time things were hard for me." 
 
 Page 45. 
 
 Olaf Trygvason. Grandson of Harald Fairhair, and King from 995 
 to 1000. On one of his viking expeditions to England he was converted 
 to Christianity. Returning to Norway to win back his ancestral inher- 
 itance from Haakon Jarl (see page 235), he had fortune with him; for 
 as he steered into the Trondhjem Fjord, he received the tidings of the 
 successful uprising of the peasants against Haakon. He founded Ni- 
 daros,the present city of Trondhjem, established Christianity in a large 
 part of the country, and soon became dearer to the people than any other 
 Norwegian King. But he had powerful enemies outside of the land: 
 the Danish King, Svein Forkbeard, the Swedish King, Olaf, and Erik, 
 son of Haakon Jarl. By a large sea-force under these he was attacked 
 off the island Svolder (near the island of Riigen), and there lost his 
 life. 
 
234 NOTES 
 
 Erling Sijalgsson, a great chieftain, holding large fiefs from Olaf 
 and married to his sister, lived at Sole in southwestern Norway. With 
 a large number of the smaller ships of Olaf Trygvason he had been 
 allowed to sail away in advance and did not know of the battle at 
 Svolder. 
 
 Long Serpent was the name of the large fighting ship that Olaf had 
 built for this expedition. It held six hundred men. 
 
 Page/iS. 
 
 Bergliot. Einar Tambarskelve was one of the most powerful men 
 in Norway during the first half of the eleventh century. His mastery 
 of the bow gave him the epithet Tambarskelve, " bow-string-shaker." 
 He fought, when eighteen years old, on the Long Serpent at Svolder. 
 After Erik and Svein were established in power as a result of that battle, 
 Einar became reconciled and married their sister Bergliot. In 1023 he 
 went to King Knut the Great in England, who was also King of Den- 
 mark, and urged him to conquer Norway. Knut did so in 1028 and made 
 his son Svein King of Norway. Einar opposed this, and Magnus the 
 Good (see page 231) was called to rule, whose most faithful vassal Einar 
 became. He followed King Magnus and his co-regent Harold Hard- 
 ruler to Denmark, where Magnus died. Here and in Norway Einar, 
 as the champion of all that was good, opposed many of the illegal and 
 unrighteous deeds and plans of Harald, and incurred the latter's bit- 
 ter enmity. In the year 1055, under pretext of reconciliation, Harold 
 lured Einar with his wife and son Eindride (pronounced as three 
 syllables) to Nidaros (Trondhjem), where the murder was committed 
 Within the hall of the royal residence, as related in the poem. 
 
 Haakon I'varson was a man of force and influence. 
 
 Harald Hardruler was a half-brother of Olaf the Saint. Late in the 
 reign of Magnus the Good, after adventurous wanderings in Russia and 
 the Orient, he returned to Norway and demanded a share in the king- 
 dom. By agreement they divided the royal power and their wealth. 
 Before his death Magnus determined that Harald should be King of 
 Norway, but Svein Estridson King of Denmark. Harald, however, tried 
 unsuccessfully to conquer Denmark. He died in England, being slain at 
 the battle of Stanford Bridge in 1066. His harshness as King secured 
 to him his epithet. The murder of Einar brought him much hate. 
 
 Ting-peace. The spelling "ting" is adopted in place of "thing." 
 
 Peasants, for this word see page 263. 
 
 Gimle, the heaven of the new Christian faith. 
 
NOTES Z35 
 
 Heath ofLyrskog, in Jutland. Magnus the Good, at the time also King 
 of Denmark, won a decisive victory here in 1043 over a much larger 
 invading army of Wends. (See also page 240.) 
 
 Tronder, one from the region about Trondhjem. 
 
 Haakon from Hjorunga'vaag. Haakon Jarl (970-995) was the last 
 pagan King in Norway. His defeat in 986 of the Jomsborg vikings, 
 allies of King Harald Bluetooth of Denmark, in a naval engagement at 
 Hjorungavaag, a bay in western Norway, was the greatest battle ever 
 fought in that country. 
 
 Valhall, the hall where those slain in battle dwell after death. 
 
 Page 56. 
 
 To My Wife. Written in Rome in 1861 or 1862, first printed in 
 1865. Bjornson's wife was Karoline Reimers, born December i, 1835. 
 They were married on September 11, 1858; she is still living (June, 
 191 5). At the celebration of their golden wedding Bjomson addressed 
 touching words of gratitude to her, saying at the close: "I know that 
 you will live longer than I. It will be your lot to cover the sheet over 
 me. There is much in a man that needs to be covered over. Of our 
 life, Karoline, you shall have the honor." See also the poem Those ixiith 
 Me, page 125, and notes thereto. 
 
 Page 56. 
 
 In a Heavy Hour. Written in Italy rather late in 1861, after Bjom- 
 son received tidings of the sharp criticism of his drama King S'verre 
 and of its lack of success on the stage in Christiania, where it was first 
 performed on October 9. In a letter from Rome to Hans Christian An- 
 dersen Bjomson wrote on December 10, 1861 : "Atatime when I was 
 in a mood to write the following verses, which perhaps tell so much 
 that I need not tell more [the poem is quoted], — ^at a time when I, the 
 man, nay, the product of friendship, was in a mood to write this, it 
 came just like a Christmas hymn among strangers, to hear that you 
 had dedicated to me your last four Tales. You . . . , you had a heart to 
 remember me, when many friends from tested times did not." 
 
 Page 57. 
 
 Kaare's Song. Helga was the daughter of Maddad, a prominent and 
 wealthy man at Katanes. She came to Orkney, where the ruler, Haa- 
 kon Earl, fell in love with her and made her his mistress. She bore him 
 a son, Harald, and lived at Orkney sixteen years in spite of the hate and 
 disdain showed her by so many, especially by the Earl's lawful wife. 
 
236 NOTES 
 
 She and her sister Frakark exerted an evil influence over Haakon Earl, 
 inciting him among other things to murder his co-ruler and kinsman 
 Magnus Erlendson. It was believed that Haakon Earl became crazy 
 when he first saw Helga. This song, which Kaare, one of the Earl's 
 men, sings, describes this first meeting and was commonly sung by 
 Helga's enemies. 
 
 Page 58. 
 
 IvAR Ingemundson's Lay. In the first half of the twelfth century an 
 Icelandic skald of this name lived and sang at the court of King Eystein 
 in Norway. He loved a young Icelandic girl, but had not declared his 
 love. When his brother was going home to Iceland, Ivar asked him 
 to tell her of his love and beg her to wait for him. But on his later com- 
 ing to Iceland, she met him as that brother's wife. Ivar returned to 
 Norway and was thereafter always melancholy and thoughtful. When 
 Harald GiUe became King, Ivar lived at his court, but sympathized 
 warmly with the able and bold Sigurd Slembe, who claimed to be 
 Magnus Barefoot's son and Harald Gille's half-brother. After many 
 years of hardship Sigurd came to Harald Gille and asked him to rec- 
 ognize him. Harald was a good-natured, but weak and ignorant man, 
 entirely controlled by his chieftains, who persuaded him to have Sigurd 
 imprisoned, with the intention of killing him. Sigurd, however, escaped 
 and fled. 
 
 Page 62. 
 
 Magnus the Blind. Magnus was born in 1 1 15, and became King in 
 1 1 30. He had Harald Gille as co-regent. Their agreement was that 
 Harald could not demand a larger share in the kingdom as long as Mag- 
 nus lived. But Magnus made himself hated by his own deeds, and in 
 1131a breach resulted between the Kings. The chieftains were on Har- 
 ald's side. He seized Magnus in 11 35, had him blinded and castrated, 
 and sent him into the monastery at Nidarholm. Sigurd Slembe, who 
 made war on Harald and conquered him, freed Magnus from the mon- 
 astery and caused him to fight in his army. He died in the sea-battle 
 of Holmengraa. 
 
 Page 63. 
 
 Sin, Death. Written during the latter half of 1862 in Munich, and 
 possibly, according to an oral statementofBjOrnson's, under impressions 
 received from German ecclesiastical art: "It is only natural that in 
 Munich symbolical poems should present themselves." 
 
NOTES 237 
 
 Page 63. 
 
 Frida. This poem was first printed March 24, 1863,50011 after the 
 death, at the age of twenty-two, of her whom it commemorates. She was 
 a younger sister of the leading Danish literary critic, Clemens Petersen, 
 born 1834. He became BjOmson's friend in 1856 and aided greatly 
 in opening the way for him in Denmark. Until 1868 Petersen had 
 much influence on public opinion. Soon after that he came to America, 
 and did not return to Copenhagen until 1904. He was a follower of 
 Heiberg, but more liberal. 
 
 Page 65. 
 
 Bergen. Written in 1863 for a musical festival in which BjOrnson and 
 Ibsen took part. Bergen's unusually favorable situation made it for a 
 long time Norway's first city in commerce; it has only recently fallen 
 behind Christiania. It has ever had a large local fleet and great traflic in 
 its harbor. Founded about 1070 by King Olaf the Quiet, Bergen was very 
 important in the older history of the land, as the residence of the Kings, 
 until about 1350, when Hanseatic control began, continuing until 
 late in the sixteenth century. In the seventeenth century Bergen was 
 incomparably the first commercial city in the Danish-Noi'wegian mon- 
 archy; in the eighteenth it was surpassed by Copenhagen. The people 
 of Bergen have always been distinctly liberal in thought and feeling. 
 
 Holberg, Ludvig (1 684-1 754), was born in Bergen, but resided most 
 of his life in Denmark. His comedies, which founded modern Danish- 
 Norwegian literature, are indeed immortal. 
 
 Dakl, Johan Christian Clausen ( 1 788-1 8 57), a Norwegian landscape 
 painter, who, though born In Bergen, went in 18 1 1 to Copenhagen and 
 from 1 81 8 resided in Dresden. As subjects he prefened water, rock, 
 and strand, and showed a realistic tendency in his light-effects. 
 
 Welha'ven, see page 244. 
 
 0/e £«// (i8io-i88o),a violinist of world-wide renown. In his later 
 life he passed most of his time in the United States, but every year he 
 returned to the home which he maintained near Bergen, at a distance 
 of about two hours by steamer. Carrying out a plan conceived in 1 848, 
 he established in Bergen with his own means the first Norwegian Na- 
 tional Theater, which was opened January 2, 1850. 
 
 Collin says that the last line of the poem sums up BjOmson's view of 
 Norway's historical memories as motive power for new achievement. 
 This seems realized in Bergen's recent development,— it now has the 
 largest steam-fleet of all the cities in Norway. 
 
238 NOTES 
 
 Page 66. 
 
 P. A. Munch. Peter Andreas Munch (born in Chrlstiania, December 
 i5,i8io;died in Rome, May 25, i863)became professor of history in 
 1841 and Keeper of the Archives in 1861. He was not only one of the 
 greatest historians of Norway, but also a philologist, an ethnographer, 
 an archaeologist, a geographer, and a publicist. His chief field was the 
 prehistoric age and the medieval period. He traveled much in the Scan- 
 dinavian lands and elsewhere in Europe, made several long stays in 
 Rome, and was buried there. His main and best known work is the His- 
 tory of the Nornxiegian People, in eight large volumes, published from 
 1851 to 1863. This and his other writings greatly strengthened the 
 national self-consciousness and sense of independence. Munch had a 
 phenomenal memory, marked talent for music and drawing, playful 
 humor, incredible capacity for work, rare intuition for epoch-making 
 discoveries. In a speech in 1892 Bjornson placed Munch by the side of 
 Wergeland (see page 262) as a fosterer of national self-consciousness 
 and faith in the future : " We can remember when we were young, how 
 P. A. Munch's History came out in parts, and how he fought with the 
 Danish professors, to get Norway brought home again from Danish 
 captivity in history also, — we can remember how eventful it was for 
 us, and how it had its share in molding us. . . . He had his large share 
 in what our generation has done. I put his work in this way by the side 
 of Wergeland's." 
 
 Through primeval Asian forests, etc. These lines refer to the so-called 
 " immigration-theory " advanced by Rudolf Keyser and elaborated by 
 Munch, which maintained that the remote ancestors of the Swedes and 
 the Norwegians migrated from the northeast into the Scandinavian 
 peninsula about 300 B.C.: the Swedes from Finland and the North- 
 men through Lapland. These scholars also held that Old Norse liter- 
 ature, as being the product of Norway and Iceland, was distinctly 
 Norse, and not "Northern" or joint-Scandinavian. 
 
 When I call, paraphrase of Isaiah xlviii, 13. 
 
 Who again shall reunite it? Munch left no peer in international 
 reputation. 
 
 Coursed the sea-'ways totuard his standard. Not only was Munch 
 honored throughout Europe, but he was the first to secure for Norwe- 
 gian history its rightful place in European histoiy. 
 
 Page 75. 
 
 King Frederikthe Seventh. His death occurred November 15,1863, 
 
NOTES 239 
 
 just before the crisis with Prussia and Austria. He was born October 6, 
 1808, the son of Prince Christian Frederiic, later King Christian VIII of 
 Denmaric, and his first wife. The early divorce of his parents resulted 
 in his education being neglected ; he was left for several years in the 
 hands of relatives and strangers j had unsympathetic teachers and al- 
 most no trace of parental guidance. All his life he had less than average 
 attainments in knowledge, except in a practical way in Scandinavian 
 archaeology. He had natural dignity, but a broad, undisciplined nature, 
 and shunned court etiquette and constraint. In 1834. he was in effect 
 banished to Jaegerspris, a royal estate near Frederikssund, and later 
 was sent on a cruise to Iceland. Afterwards he resided in disfavor in 
 Fredericia, where his tendencies to plain, direct intercourse with people 
 of all classes were further developed. When Christian VIII ascended 
 the throne, Frederik's position was somewhat improved, and his free 
 association with officials and commoners made him very popular. It 
 was found that he could show at times surprisingly clear and sure In- 
 sight into practical conditions. His Interest continued active in archaeo- 
 logical investigations, sea-voyaging, and fishing. During the increasing 
 national and political difficulties Frederik, because of his pronounced 
 Danish feeling and sympathy with the common people, was disposed 
 to take a stand more national and constitutionally liberal than could 
 please the government circles. This became known among the people 
 and made him a still greater favorite. In 1847 he submitted a proposal 
 for the introduction of a joint Constitution for the entire monarchy, 
 but King Christian died before action could be taken. Frederik VII 
 ascended the throne January 20, 1848. The change of ministry which 
 he made in March as a result of the Schleswig revolt, his opposition 
 to the division of Schleswig, and his establishment of really constitu- 
 tional government made his popularity forever secure, although he was 
 not a sure and pui-poseful ruler. Frederik's character played an Impor- 
 tant part in the relations of Denmark with Sweden and Norway. The 
 personal friendship between the two Kings united the countries more 
 closely and lifted political "Scandinavism" to the height it reached 
 shortly before the war of 1864 with Prussia and Austria over Schles- 
 wig-Holstein. 
 
 This "Scandinavism" is referred to in the poem by the words "to 
 the North," "his course," and similar expressions. It was the name 
 given to the sense of kinship of the three Northern peoples and the de- 
 sire of closer union, whether in spiritual or material or political rela- 
 tions. It was evoked first by poets and scholars, and gathered strength 
 
240 NOTES 
 
 from 184.3 on in meetings of university students. In 1848 there was 
 warm sympathy in both Sweden and Norway with the cause of Den- 
 mark j the assistance of volunteers and even of Swedish-Norwegian 
 troops was given. Towards 1 8 64 the three countries came more closely 
 together politically, promises of help to Denmark were made by Swe- 
 den and Norway, and there was even talk of a treaty of alliance. But 
 the end of the war of 18 64, and Germany's victory over France in 1870- 
 71, destroyed the hopes of political Scandinavism, and thereafter it be- 
 came rather cultural and practical, at least until 1905, when Norway's 
 full independence of Sweden led to emphasis on individual nationality. 
 The war of 1914-15 may bring about a revival of political Scandi- 
 navism. (See also page 246.) 
 
 Page 78. 
 
 To Sweden. This poem and several following breathe the spirit of 
 
 Scandinavism described above. 
 
 J^^/Zotv-ite. The flag of Sweden shows a yellow cross on ablue ground. 
 
 Christian Fourth, King of Denmark and Norway, 1 588-1 648. 
 
 Haakon Earl, see page 235. 
 
 Palnatoki, the legendary leader of the Jomsborg vikings. Ancient 
 enemies are now allies, and so also Tordenskjold (see page 229) fights 
 by the side of, not against, Charles XII. 
 
 Jenny = the famous singer, Jenny Lind, 1820-1887. 
 
 Liitzen. Gustavus Adolphus prayed and his troops sang hymns be- 
 fore the battle. 
 
 Nar'uia, where Charles XII, in November, 1 700, was victorious over 
 the Russians under Peter the Great. 
 
 Page 80. 
 
 Our Forefathers, a festival, memorialpoem, written just before the 
 outbreak of the Danish-German war. Danish troops were stationed 
 along the river Eider, which the Germans crossed on February i, 1864. 
 The last lines of the poem refer to what is told in the saga of Mag- 
 nus the Good about the battle of Lyrskog Heath (see page 234) : "The 
 night before the battle Magnus was wakeful and prayed to God for 
 victory. Towards morning he fell asleep and dreamed that his father. 
 King Olaf the Saint, came to him and said: 'You are now very sick 
 at heart and full of fear, because the Wends are coming against you 
 with a great army; but you must not be afraid of the heathen host, 
 though they be many together. I shall follow you into this battle and 
 join in the fight, when you hear my horn.' At dawn the King wakened. 
 
NOTES 241 
 
 and then all heard up in the air the ringing of a bell, and those of the 
 King's men who had been In Nidaros [Trondhjem] recognized by its 
 sound the bell which King Olaf had given to the church of St. 
 Clement. Then Magnus had the signal for battle blown, and his men 
 made such a furious onset on the Wends, that fifteen thousand fell and 
 the rest fled." 
 
 Page 81. 
 
 When Norway would not Help. Written upon the adjourn- 
 ment of the extraordinary meeting of the Norwegian Storting, called 
 in March, 1 8 64. The action of the Storting providing for Norway's par- 
 ticipation with Denmark in the war coupled this with conditions which 
 made it equivalent to a refusal to help. 
 
 ffessel, see page 229. 
 
 Dannebrog, see next note. 
 
 Page 84. 
 
 To THE Dannebrog. The original title was "The 19th of April, 1864." 
 
 Dybbol [Diippel]. This strongly fortified Danish place in Schleswig 
 was taken by the Germans on April 18, 1864. 
 
 Dannebrog, the traditional name of the Danish flag, consisting of 
 a red ground whereon is a broad white cross, extending to all four 
 margins. According to an old legend the original Dannebrog ("broge" 
 is an old Danish word, meaning apiece of colored cloth) soared down 
 from Heaven during the battle of Reval In 1219 and brought victory 
 to the Danes, while a voice was heard promising the Danes a complete 
 victory as often as they raised this banner against their enemies. 
 
 Page 85. 
 
 Toast for the Men of Eidsvold. First called "Toast for the 17th 
 of May i " written for the fiftieth anniversary of the adoption of the 
 Constitution (see pages 229, 230). 
 
 Page 86. 
 
 The Norrona-Race. Written for the fiftieth anniversary of the adop- 
 tion of the Act of Union with Sweden. 
 
 Norrona = Northern. 
 
 Surtr. According to Norse mythology there were in the beginning 
 two worlds, the first of which, called Muspell, was filled with fire, light, 
 and warmth ; over this Surtr ruled, sitting with a sword of flame at Its 
 border. The other world was Niflheim, cold and dark. 
 
Z4Z NOTES 
 
 Tggdraiil. The tree Yggdrasil is a symbol of the present world. 
 
 Dragons, warships with carved dragons as figure-heads. 
 
 Poland's nig/it. For Gustavus Adolphus the Polish War, which he 
 waged before he took part actively in the Thirty Years' War in Ger- 
 many, was also undertaken for the defense of Protestantism. 
 
 Saga, here = History. 
 
 Page 90. 
 
 Lector Thaasen. Johan Edvard Thaasen (born in 1825; died Feb- 
 ruary 17, 1865) was a classical philologist and a man of broad culture, 
 well versed in Old Norse and in modern French and German litera- 
 ture. From 1 8 5 2 he was teacher in the Cathedral School in Christiania, 
 and from i860 lecturer in Greek at the University, where he treated 
 chiefly the Greek poets and archaeology. He came from a poor family 
 and passed his early life under hard conditions. During the last few years 
 he was sickly, and he died of consumption. In 1858 he was president 
 of the Students' Union, and spokesman for the Norwegians at the Stu- 
 dent Meeting in Copenhagen in 1862. 
 
 Page 91. 
 
 During a Journey in Sweden. Written in the summer of ii66. 
 Bjornson's speeches then made a sensation by reason of the warmth of 
 his feeling for Sweden. Ellen Key has written with approval of his 
 characterization of the Swedes here, which agrees with that of Schiick 
 in his History ofSiuedish Literature, i, 325, 326. 
 
 Page 94. 
 
 Song for the Students' Glee Club. Written ini863 for the journey 
 
 of the Club to Bergen (see page 23 7). 
 
 tiald, Fredrikshald, see page 229. 
 
 Arendal. This city is an important shipping center, 
 
 Sverre, see page 229. 
 
 Page 96. 
 
 Mrs. Louise Brun. Louise Gulbrandsen was born in Bergen, Decem- 
 ber 16, i83i,and died in Christiania, January 21, 1866. In childhood 
 she knew the narrowness and darkness of poverty. Made her first ap- 
 pearance as an actress at the opening performance of Ole Bull's theater 
 in Bergen, January 2, 1850, when she also recited the Prologue. An 
 attractive personality, a voice clear and flexible both in speech and song, 
 and unusual mentality made her the most talented actress of her time 
 
NOTES 243 
 
 in Norway, Her power was comprehensive j she began with romantic 
 parts and always liked these best, though later she was distinguished 
 in conversation-plays. In 185 1 she married Johannes Brun, Norway's 
 most gifted comedian. They came to Christiania in April, 1857. 
 
 A picture dranun from life, etc., refers to the romantic drama, The 
 Sisters at Kinnekullen, of the Dane, Carsten Hauch (1790-1872). It 
 was his most frequently performed play, dealing with the mysterious 
 power of gold over the human mind, as something demonic in the ser- 
 vitude it imposes. It had recently been played with Mrs. Brun in the 
 part of Ulrika. 
 
 He, luho from fairy-tale, etc. Ole Bull, see page 237. Thus is intro- 
 duced here a poetical history and eulogy of Ole Bull's Norwegian 
 Theater. 
 
 Page 103. 
 
 To JoHAN Dahl, Bookdealer. Johan Fjeldsted Dahl was bom in Co- 
 penhagen, January 1, 1 8o7,and died in Christiania, March 16, 1877. He 
 came to Christiania in 1829, and established in 1832 a business of his 
 own, both publishing and selling. In the mercantile, social, literary, and 
 artistic life of the city he came to have an important place and influence. 
 
 Dahl had published Nor-uuay's Danvn, by Welhaven, and in the time 
 of the Wergeland-Welhaven conflict (see page 244, and as to Werge- 
 land, page 262) a violent personal quarrel developed between Werge- 
 land and Dahl about an entirely unimportant matter. Dahl had pro- 
 vided his porter with a green livery having red borders. Wergeland,who 
 regarded Dahl as the leading representative of the " Copenhagenism " 
 (Danish, anti-Norwegian tendencies) he was contending against, had 
 an epigram printed, The Servant in Livery, and insulted the porter 
 on the street. This led to a slashing newspaper feud between Wergeland 
 and Dahl. After everybody's feelings had grown calmer, Wergeland 
 wrote about the burlesque occurrence a farce entitled The Parrot, and 
 Dahl had humor enough, himself to publish this satirical skit. 
 
 The light from his shop. Wergeland derisively styled Dahl's store 
 "the first slander-shop of the city ;" it was, in fact, the meeting-place of 
 the "party of intelligence," those interested in European culture and 
 esthetic criticism, i.e., it was the resort of those opposed to Wergeland. 
 
 Page 105. 
 
 To Sculptor Borch. Christopher Borch (1817-1896) was a lifelong 
 friend, of whom in 1857 Bjornson wrote in letters : "The most childlike, 
 natural man I know, with his even, light walk, and his fine, small hands," 
 
244 NOTES 
 
 and "there is poetry in that man. Oh, how you have misunderstood 
 him !" It was this friend who, about the same time as these letters were 
 written, helped Bjornson open his spirit to the influence of Grundtvig 
 (see page z 54.). Borch for many years gave free instruction to convicts 
 in the Akershus prison in drawing and other subjects, and so helped 
 them to a future when they came out. 
 
 Page 113. 
 
 Choice. A Danish publisher issued a calendar with poems on the 
 months by different Scandinavian poets. When Bjornson was invited 
 to contribute, all the other months were already written up or assigned, 
 and only April was left. 
 
 Page 11+. 
 
 Norwegian Seamen's Song. 
 
 Saint Olaf's Cross. Of the insignia of the Royal Norwegian Order of 
 St. Olaf, founded in 1 847 by King Oskar I ; the characteristic feature is 
 a white cross. 
 
 Hafursfjord' s great day (see page 228), near Stavanger. 
 
 Page 116. 
 
 HalfdanKjerulf was born September 15, i8i5,anddied August 11, 
 1868. He early showed talent for music, and though he had to study law 
 from 1834 on, he yet studied and wrote music with a crushing sense of 
 lack of knowledge and opportunity. He was dangerously ill in i S39, and 
 always weak physically. His father died in 1 84.0, and Kjerulf then began 
 to earn his living by music. A stipend received in 1850 enabled him to 
 go to Leipzig for a year. In 18 ji he settled in Christiania as a teacher 
 of music, where for the rest of his life his influence as a composer was 
 most important. His compositions are all of the lesser forms; his best 
 work was done from i860 to 1865. He was in general a pioneer of 
 modern Norwegian music, and one of the first to draw from the inex- 
 haustible fountain of folk-music. He wrote exquisite music for many 
 songs of Welhaven, Wergeland, Moe, Bjornson, and others. 
 
 Page 117. 
 
 Norwegian Students' Greeting to Professor Welhaven. Johan 
 Sebastian Cammermeyer Welhaven was born December 22, 1807, 
 lived from 1828 in Christiania, was lector from 1840 to 1846, and from 
 1846 to 1868 professor of philosophy in the University; he died Octo- 
 ber 21, 1873. His poetical works were ; Norwuays Daiun, 1834; Poems, 
 
NOTES 24s 
 
 1839; Ne'w Poems, 184.5; Half a Hundred Poems, 1848; Pictures of 
 Tra'vel and Poems, 1 8 5 1 j A Collection of Poems, i860. A polemical 
 writer, gifted with wit and fine taste, and a social-political author, 
 Welhaven represented in his earlier period the "party of intelligence " 
 over against the chauvinism of the radical Peasant party of Werge- 
 land (see page 262). He was an adherent of Danish culture and of the 
 esthetic view of art and life, who hated all national exclusiveness and 
 showed a love of his country no less true and intense than Wergeland's 
 by chastising the Norwegians of his time for their big, empty words 
 and their crass materialism. For this he was rewarded with abuse, and 
 called "traitor to his country" and "matricide." In reality Welhaven 
 was a dreamer, a worshiper of nature, a man of tender feeling. His sub- 
 jective lyric poetry is not surpassed in richness of content and beauty of 
 form by that of any other Norwegian. 
 
 Outside of his ordinary University duties Welhaven was also active; 
 he was a favorite speaker at student festivities and musical festivals, 
 notably at the Student Meetings in Upsala, 18 j6, and in Copenhagen, 
 1862. But early in 1864 his health failed, and he was unable thereafter 
 to lecture regularly. In August, 1868, he requested to be retired; on 
 September 24, the University authorities granted his request and a pen- 
 sion at the highest rate ; but the Storting, on November 12, reduced 
 this to two-thirds of the amount proposed. The same day the students 
 brought to Professor Welhaven their farewell greeting, marching with 
 flags to his residence, where this poem of homage was sung. 
 
 Page 119. 
 
 Forward. The composer Grieg and his wife spent Christmas Eve, 
 1868, with Bjomson's family in Christiania. Grieg, who then gave 
 to Bjornson a copy of the first part of his Lyriske Smaastykker, has 
 written the following account of the origin of this poem : "Among 
 these was one with the title 'Fatherland's Song.' I played this for 
 Bjornson, who liked it so well that he said he wanted to write words 
 for it. That made me glad, although afterwards I said to myself : It 
 probably will remain a want, he has other things to think of. But the 
 very next day I met him in full creative joy : ' It's going excellently. 
 It shall be a song for all the youth of Norway. But there is something 
 at the beginning that I have n't yet got hold of — a certain wording. I 
 feel that the melody demands it, and I shall not give it up. It must 
 come.' Then we parted. The next forenoon, as I was giving a piano 
 lesson to a young lady, I heard a ring at the entry-door, as if the whole 
 
246 NOTES 
 
 bell apparatus would rattle do wn ; then a noise as of wild hordes break- 
 ing in and a roar: 'Forward! Forward! Now I have it! Forward!' 
 My pupil trembled like an aspen leaf. My wife in the next room was 
 frightened out of her wits. But when the door flew open and BjOmson 
 stood there, glad and shining like a sun, there was a general jubilee, 
 and we were the first to hear the beautiful new poem." 
 
 Page 120. 
 
 The Meeting. The Student Meetings, ;'.?., conventions of university 
 students in the three countries, were originally an important part of 
 "Scandinavism" (see pages 239, 240). The first was held in 1843; that 
 of 1862 was the last to have a distinctly political character. After 1864 
 the chief aim of these gatherings was to improve the position and 
 strengthen the influence of the student in the community. In 1869 
 Christiania invited the Danish students to meet there with their Swed- 
 ish and Norwegian comrades, in the interest of culture, better acquaint- 
 ance with one another, people, and land, and cooperation in general 
 for the future of the kingdoms. 
 
 GjaUar-horn, Heimdall's horn, to be blown especially at the begin- 
 ning of Ragnarok, symbolical here of the painful passing of the old 
 order, which ushers in a new world. 
 
 Page 121. 
 
 Norse Nature. See note to the preceding poem. 
 
 King Half dan the Black {6Xed. 8 60) was the father of Harald Fair- 
 hair. It was said of him that he once dreamed he had the most beau- 
 tiful hair one could see, luxuriant locks of various lengths and colors, 
 but one of them larger, brighter, and fairer than all the others. This 
 was interpreted to mean that King Halfdan would have many de- 
 scendants, and they would rule Norway with great honor; but one of 
 them would surpass the others, and later this was said to be Olaf the 
 Saint. 
 
 Nore, the largest mountain of Ringerike. 
 
 Page 124. 
 
 I PASSED BY THE HousE. Written in 1869. The translator has not been 
 able to verify the statement that the poem refers to a cousin, to whom 
 BjOrnson was devoted from his student days. 
 
 Page 125. 
 
 Those v^wyl Me. This poem of tender homage to his wife (see page 
 
 235) and home was written during the summer of 1 8 69, while BjOrnson 
 
NOTES 247 
 
 was on a lecture tour, which took him to northernmost Norway. His 
 fourth child, and first daughter, Bergliot, was born June i6, 1869, in 
 Christiania. When their golden wedding was celebrated in 1908, Bjom- 
 son said to his wife : " You knew me and knew how ungovernable I 
 was, but you loved me, and there was a holy joy in that. To you I 
 always came back from much wildness and many wanderings. I came 
 back to you constantly. And with all my heart I give you the honor. 
 To you I wrote the poem : 'As on I drive, in my heart joy dwells.' 
 It was not poetical and not sentimental, but just plain and direct. But 
 I wrote it to glorify my home and you. And I believe that no more 
 beautiful and deep poem in praise of home has been written. For there 
 is life's wisdom in it. It is yours, Karoline, and your honor." 
 
 Page 128. 
 
 To My Father. Written in 1869. Peder BjOrnson was settled as pas- 
 tor at Kvikne in Osterdal at the time of the poet's birth. Originally he 
 was an independent farmer, like his father and grandfather, on the large 
 farm Skei on the Randsfjord, where he was born in 1797. He completed 
 his theological training in 1829, came to Kvikne in 1831, to Nes in 
 Romsdal in 1837, and to Sogne in 1 8 52. On retiring in 1 8 69 he moved 
 to Christiania, where he died, August 25, 187 1. His large frame and 
 great physical strength were hereditary in his father's family. 
 
 Our race. Allusion to the tradition of the descent of the BjOrnsons 
 from ancient kings through the poet's great-grandmother, Marie Oistad. 
 
 The Nortvegian peasant, see page 263. 
 
 Page 1 30. 
 
 To Erika Lie (-Nissen) (i 84.7-1 903). One of the great pianists in Nor- 
 way, she was bom in Kongsvinger on the river Glommen, where her 
 parents resided also when this poem was written in 1869. She gained 
 European fame by her concerts from 1866 on, married the physician 
 Oskar Nissen in 1874, and after 1876 resided in Norway. She was dis- 
 tinguished for the poetic quality of her playing, for warmth and full- 
 ness of tone, and for faultless technique. 
 
 Page 132. 
 
 AtMichael Sars's Grave. He was bom in Bergen, August 30, 1805, 
 and died in Christiania, October 22, 1869. In 1823 he became a stu- 
 dent of the University in Christiania, where for a time he devoted him- 
 self to natural science, continuing his boyhood's lively Interest. But 
 the necessity for self-support turned him to theology. In 1830 he was 
 
248 NOTES 
 
 appointed pastor at Kinn in the Sond^ord, married in 18 ji a sister of 
 Welhaven, and in 1839 was transferred to Manger, near Bergen. Both 
 the places mentioned were very convenient for zoological study, which 
 Sars resumed at once and continued unbrokenly. His, earliest published 
 work appeared in 1829; it was of first-rate importance, and his repu- 
 tation was soon established everywhere in the world of learning. In 
 1853 he sought retirement from the Church, and in 1854 was made 
 professor of zoology in the University, where he continued his remark- 
 abie researches until his death. He was a pioneer in his special field, 
 the lower marine fauna, and his aim from the beginning was not 
 merely to discover new species, but to trace the physiological processes 
 and the development of these lower, minuter forms of life, — ovology, 
 embryology, organology. It was his work that led to the deep-sea expe- 
 ditions of The Challenger and other similar voyages. 
 
 Page 133. 
 
 To JoHAN SvERDRUP. Written in November, 1869. Johan Sverdrup 
 (181 6—1892) was the greatest political leader and statesman of Norway 
 in the nineteenth century, and left the deepest traces in all its recent 
 history. He settled in Laurvik in 1 844 as a lawyer, was soon active in 
 municipal politics, laboring for the interests of the working-class, and 
 was elected' to the Storting in 1851. Reelected in 1 8 54, and regularly 
 thereafter till 1 8 8 5, his authority in the Storting and his power in pub- 
 lic life steadily increased. From 1871 on he was President of the Stor- 
 ting, except in 18 81 for reasons of health; from 1884 to 1889 he was 
 Prime Minister. A consistent democrat, he created and led the party 
 of the Left, or " Peasant-Left," and contended all his active life for the 
 establishment of real government by the people, i.e., a constitutional 
 democracy with parliamentary rule. This, the fulfillment of his famous 
 saying, "All power ought to be gathered in this hall \i.e., in the Stor- 
 ting],p" was consummated in June, 1884. Few men in Norway have been 
 so bitterly assailed by political opponents,, and few so idolized by fol- 
 lowers. He was a masterful orator, inferior only to Bjornson. 
 
 Assassination. An allusion to Ibsen's The Young Men's Union, first 
 performed in Christiania on September 30, 1869. Bjornson regarded 
 the drama as directed against himself and his political friends. In 
 1 88 1 he wrote : "With the word assassination I did not mean that con- 
 ditions and well-known men were aimed at. What I meant was, 
 that The Young Men's Union tried to make our young liberal party into 
 a band of ambitious speculators, whose patriotism could be carried off 
 
NOTES 249 
 
 with their phraseology, and especially that prominent men were first 
 made recognizable, and that then false hearts and base characters were 
 fictitiously given them and spurious alliances pasted on them." 
 
 The 'words of Einar. For Einar Tambarslcelve, see page 2 34, and for 
 Magnus the Good, page 231. Immediately after the death of Magnus 
 in Denmark, Harald proposed to make himself King over all Denmark, 
 but Einar arose and spoke, ending with the words: "It seems to me bet- 
 ter to follow King Magnus dead, than any other King living." Nearly 
 all the Norwegians joined Einar, and Harald was left with too small 
 a force to carry out his plan. 
 
 My childhood's faith unshaken stands. Bjomson was at the time with 
 full conviction an orthodox Christian; Sverdrup was for himself a free- 
 thinker in religion. 
 
 Brotherhood in all three lands. Sverdrup was always opposed to any 
 close federation of the three countries, and to Scandinavism, see pages 
 239, 240. 
 
 What aught just nowo to 4^. The whole political programme of the 
 Left, as it was gradually wrought out during the next two decades. 
 
 S'verre, see page 229. 
 
 One nation only .and one nxiill, Sverdrup's ideal, as outlined above. 
 
 That impelled the -viking, see note on Harald Fairhair, page 228. 
 
 jit Hjorung, see page 235. 
 
 Wessel's siuord, see Tordenskjold, page 229. 
 
 Vessel's pen. Johan Herman Wessel (1742-1785) was a grand- 
 nephew of Peder Wessel Tordenskjold. He was the leader and most 
 popular member of the "Norwegian Society " in Copenhagen, in spirit 
 and style the most Norwegian of tlie writers born in Norway in the 
 eighteenth century. 
 
 That in faith so high, etc., refers to the teaching of Grundtvig (see 
 page 254), who looked upon the Edda-gods as representing a religion 
 originally akin to Christianity. 
 
 Brun. Johan Nordal Brun (1745-1816) became bishop in 1804. A 
 popular poet, he was the creator of the older national hymn and other 
 patriotic songs j an ardent lover of his country, opposed to Danish in- 
 fluences in politics and culture ; strictly orthodox and a powerful orator. 
 
 Hauge, Hans Nilsen Hauge (177 1-18 24), a peasant lay-preacher, of 
 whom a biographer has said : " Since the Reformation no single man 
 has had so profound an influence on ecclesiastical and Christian life 
 in Norway." The " Haugian revival " of the emotional religious life is 
 proverbial. Its value was great in every way j directly and also by his 
 
250 NOTES 
 
 widely distributed writings it fostered intellectual enlightenment. The 
 peasant political movement started soon after 1830 among his followers. 
 This explains Bjornson's great sympathy with Hauge and his school. 
 
 Modern bishop-synod's letter, the dogmatic literalism of the State 
 Church, seeking to impose itself on free popular religious faith. 
 
 Chambers, reference to proposals to revise the Act of Union with 
 Sweden, in particular to the plan of a Union-Parliament, all of which 
 were rejected by Norway. 
 
 Folk-high-school' s, see page 257. 
 
 Page 141. 
 
 OLE Gabriel Ueland (born October 28, 1799; died January 9, 1870) 
 was the son of a farmer. He was self-taught, reading all the books he 
 could find in the region about his home; became a school teacher in 
 1817. His marriage in 1827 brought to him the farm Ueland, whose 
 name he took. He early became foremost in his district, and from 1833 
 to 1869 was member of the Storting for Stavanger. He organized and 
 led the Peasant party. In his time one of Norway's most remarkable 
 men, the most talented peasant and most powerful member of the Stor- 
 ting, belonging to the generation before Sverdrup, he prepared the way 
 for the latter, with whom he then cooperated. Sverdrup once said: "All 
 of us who are engaged in practical politics are Ueland's pupils." 
 
 Page 143. 
 
 Anton Martin Schweigaard, jurist and statesman, was bom in 
 Kragero, April 11, 1808, and died in Christiania, February 1, 1870. 
 After five years as lecturer in the University he was, in 1840, made 
 professor of law, political economy, and statistics. Regarded as the most 
 representative Norwegian of his age and its aspirations, he was called 
 by his countrymen "Norway's best son." Though interested in the re- 
 form of education and the introduction of European culture, and hence 
 favorable to Danish literature, standing with Welhaven and against 
 Wergeland, it was in economics that his influence was greatest, and 
 indeed greater than that of any other one man in all Scandinavia. He 
 was the soul of the organizing labor that accompanied and conditioned 
 Norway's surprisingly rapid material advance in the decades before and 
 after the middle of the nineteenth century. A friend of Scandinavism, 
 in politics a liberal conservative, but never a party man, he was member 
 of the Storting for Christiania from 1842 to 1869. Schweigaard's per- 
 sonality contributed most to the high esteem in which he was univer- 
 sally held ; his character was open and direct, actively unselfish, loftily 
 
NOTES 251 
 
 ideal. His wife died on January 28,i870.0na walk the next day he sud- 
 denly was seized with intense pains, had to go home and to bed, and 
 died on February i . An autopsy showed that his heart was ruptured. 
 Their joint funeral was held on February 5. 
 
 Page 144. 
 
 To Aasmund Olafsen Vinje. Vinje, the son of a poor cottager, was 
 born on a farm in Telemarken, April 6, 18 18, and died July 30, 1870. 
 Poverty and his peculiar personality made life hard for him from first 
 to last. Bent on testing all things for himself, he came into conflict 
 with the authorities. He was discharged from a school in Mandal in 
 1848 because of his scoffing criticism of a religious schoolbook. He 
 went then to Heltberg's School (see page 252) in Christiania, soon after 
 became a student in the University, and passed the state examination 
 in law in 1856. But his life was devoted to literary pursuits, and he 
 was most gifted as a lyric poet. In 1858 Vinje went over completely 
 to the Landsmaal (see page 264), and in this form of dialect found his 
 natural medium of expression. In October of the same year he began 
 his weekly paper, Dokn, in which he treated all the current interests. 
 Although one of the most advanced thinkers and keenest combatants 
 in his country's spiritual conflicts, he stood very much alone, a great 
 skeptic and satirist, who practiced irony with the highest art. Vinje 
 had no home of his own until after his marriage on June 20, i86g. 
 His wife died immediately after the birth of a son, on April 12, 1870. 
 At her burial on April 16 Bjornson was present, and taking Vinje's 
 hand ended an estrangement which had existed for some years because 
 of Vinje's unjustly harsh criticism of Bjornson 's early peasant tales, 
 and other rather personal attacks. 
 
 Guests, the angel of life and the angel of death. 
 
 You stand sick, with the incurable disease which caused his death a 
 few months later. 
 
 Great and luondrous 'visions, probably (cf. also the following stanza) 
 of the truth of the orthodox faith, which Bjornson at the time still firmly 
 held. 
 
 Page 146. 
 
 Good Cheer. This poem stood last in the first edition, with the title 
 "Last Song." It is a vigorous, partly humorous, beautiful, true self- 
 characterization of Bjornson's position in the life of Christiania and 
 Norway just prior to 1870, and a statement of his ideals and models 
 
252 NOTES 
 
 in the three Scandinavian countries, Grundtvig, Runeberg, and Werge- 
 land. From the beginning of 1865 to the middle of 1867 he had been 
 director of the Theater, and since March, 1866, as editor no less than 
 as author, active in polemics, political and literary. His election early 
 in December, 1869, as president of the Students' Union, was a demon- 
 stration in his favor, shortly after which this poem was written. Cora- 
 pare also the poem, Oh, When nuillyou Stand Forth ? page 1 70, and notes 
 thereto. 
 
 The twelfth and thirteenth stanzas refer to Grundtvig, for whom 
 see page 254. 
 
 The fourteenth stanza refers to the Finnish Swedish poet, JohanLud- 
 vig Runeberg (1804.-1877), whose lyric, ballad, and epic genius was 
 of national importance, for Sweden. He was a champion of true freedom 
 and naturalness in literature and life. 
 
 IVergeland, see page 262. 
 
 Page 150. 
 
 Old Heltberg. Henrik Anton Schjott Heltberg was born February 4, 
 1806, and died March 2, 1873. 1'l early life he was an active member 
 of Wergeland's party in the attack on Danish influence, and this spirit 
 ever controlled him, a " power-genius " of independent originality, gro- 
 tesque appearance, and odd manners. From 1838 he was teacher in va- 
 rious schools, until in his later years he founded in Christiania a Latin 
 School, continued until after 1870, with a course of two years formature 
 pupils, whose ages ranged between sixteen and thirty-five years, the 
 so-called "Student Factory," a higher cramming-school, chiefly pre- 
 paring for entrance into the University. It was, however, attended also 
 by those who for other reasons wished to learn Latin and Greek. He was 
 a powerful teacher, a uniquely rousing and educating force. 
 
 / luent to a school, etc. When ten years old Bjornson was sent to 
 Molde and entered the " Middel- og Real-skole" there, which had only 
 two classes and, when he left it, twenty-eight pupils. In 1 8 50, seventeen 
 years old, he went to Christiania and the " Factory." 
 
 Prelims, those who had passed only an examination preliminary to 
 the "Norwegian "(not Latin) official examination. 
 
 Vinje, see page 251. 
 
 Jonas Lie, born November 6, 1833; '''^d J"ly 5> 1908 ; the noted 
 author of novels and tales. 
 
 Grammar. Heltberg's method was a grammatical short-cut system, 
 to cram Latin and Greek in the shortest time possible. For twenty years 
 
NOTES 253 
 
 he talked about publishing it, and received a grant from the Storting 
 for this purpose. But it was always to be improved, and nothing was 
 published except a fragment after his death. 
 
 Page 155. 
 
 For the Wounded. This song was written in 1871, and sung at 
 bazaars which were held in all the cities of Norway in order to raise 
 funds for sending nurses, bandages, and money to the French wounded. 
 
 Page 156. 
 
 Landfall. Written in 1872 for a musical festival in Trondhjem, the 
 
 profits of which were given to aid in the restoration of the Cathedral 
 
 there. 
 
 Olaf Trjg'vason, see page 233. 
 
 Page 157. 
 
 To Hans Christian Andersen. Although Hans Christian Andersen 
 (1S05-1875) traveled frequently and far in the earlier years, he made 
 after 1863 only one journey out of Denmark. This was to Norway, 
 to receive the homage of the brother-nation. Bjornson had been quite 
 intimate with him, both personally in Copenhagen and especially in 
 Rome, and by correspondence. Andersen's genius was misjudged and 
 condemned by the Danish critic Heiberg (see page 232), but his very 
 lack of the then prevailing Danish qualities made Bjornson admire and 
 sympathize with him. 
 
 A fairy-tale. Andersen's chief work, Tales toldfor Children, appeared 
 in 1835 ; his Neiu Tales and Stories, in 1858—61. 
 
 Page 158. 
 
 To Stang. Fredrik Stang (bom March 4, 1808; died June 8, i884)was 
 an active and successful lawyer from 1834 to 1845. In the latter year he 
 became Secretary of the then established Department of the Interior, be- 
 ginning a most meritorious career and opening a new era in Norway's 
 internal development. By him industry and trade were made freer, the 
 sea-fisheries and agriculture fostered, roads built, the postal service was 
 improved, the first telegraph line and the first railroad were instituted. 
 He retired because of illness in 1854. But after the great minister-crisis 
 of December, 1861, he presided over the Norwegian government until 
 the summer of 1873, when, after the abolition of the viceroyship, he 
 was made Prime Minister and continued as such until 1880. He was a 
 thorough conservative, a member of the Right, and so opposed to the 
 political ideals cherished by Sverdrup (see page 248) and Bjornson. 
 
2 54 NOTES 
 
 For the opening lines compare the poem Toast for the Men of Eids- 
 •votd, page 85, and notes thereto. 
 
 Page 162. 
 
 On a Wife's Death. In memory of Qu^een Louisa (1828-1871), con- 
 sort of King Karl XV of Sweden and Norway. A princess of the 
 Netherlands, whose mother was the sister of Emperor William I, she 
 was married in 1850, and died March 30, 1871. She bore a son on 
 December 4, 1852, who died March 13, 1854. In November, 1870, she 
 was called to her dying mother in The Hague. Karl XV died in Sep- 
 tember, 1872, after several years of precarious health. Queen Louisa 
 was an unassuming, truly noble woman of deeply religious feeling and 
 large benevolence. 
 
 Page 163. 
 
 At the Bier of Precentor A. Reitan. Anders JOrgensen Reitan, 
 a peasant, was born July 26, 1826, and died August 30, 1872. After 
 attending the Teachers' Seminary, he took up this calling, and in 1853 
 became precentor (and teacher) in Kvikne, BjOrnson's birthplace. He 
 remained in this position the rest of his life, making himself, by his in- 
 fluence at meetings, through lectures, and in visits from farm to farm, 
 a pioneer in popular enlightenment, an important bearer of culture. He 
 was a member of the Storting for the term 1871—73, but was seriously 
 ill a large part of the session of 187 1, and in April, 1872, received leave 
 of absence. He died in Christiania. 
 
 Page 166. 
 
 On the Death of N. F. S. Grundtvig. Few men have so influenced 
 the spiritual development of Denmark, and indeed that of all Scandi- 
 navia, as Nicolai Frederik Severin Grundtvig, the noted Danish the- 
 ologian, historian, and poet (born September 8, 1783; died September 
 2,1872). He made a name for himself early by historical, mythological, 
 religious, and poetical writings. He successfully opposed the rational- 
 istic thought of the earlier nineteenth century with his simple exposi- 
 tion of Christianity according to the pure teachings of Jesus. His effort 
 was to present to Scandinavia Christianity in a popular form, closely 
 connected with the national thought of the time. There gathered about 
 him a host of able and enthusiastic followers, through whom his re- 
 ligious and political influence extended over all the North. His char- 
 acteristic religious views were, as a system, called Grundtvigianism. 
 For the Church his ideal was a church of the people with wholly in- 
 
NOTES 25s 
 
 dependent congregations. For the nation his ideal was a free, vigorous 
 civic life. As member of the Danish parliament for many years he 
 showed his intense patriotism by his lilaeral activity and by his partici- 
 pation in the struggle with Germany for Schleswig-Holstein. He ren- 
 dered great service also in the reform of education, in particular as 
 founder of the uniquely valuable "folk-high-schools" (see page 257). 
 BjOrnson was a Grundtvigian until 1 877, having heard Grundtvig speak 
 in Christiania in 1 851, and having come under his personal influence in 
 Copenhagen during the winter of 1856-57 and the following spring. It 
 was Grundtvig's writings on history and mythology that led BjOrnson 
 to deeper study of the Old Norse sagas and poetry. It was Grundt- 
 vigianism that, especially through its faith in the power of renewal 
 and in the resurrection of what must first die away, vitalized BjOmson's 
 religious faith and practical philosophy of life. BjOrnson once said : 
 ''Grundtvig and Goethe are ray two poles," and in a speech in 1 902 : 
 "There is a poet who has exerted the greatest influence on my devel- 
 opment — old Grundtvig." 
 
 Sibyl. In TAe Sibyl's Prophecy, a poem of the Elder Edda, she (ac- 
 cording to one reading of the text) sinks from sight after foretelling 
 the passing away of this world and the coming of a new and better one. 
 
 Page 168. 
 
 At A Banc^et for Professor Ludv. Kr. Daa. The historian, geog- 
 rapher, ethnologist, publicist, editor, and political leader, Ludvig Kris- 
 tensen Daa, was born August 19, 1809, and died June 12, 1877. As a 
 friend of Wergeland he was a liberal of the old stamp, later an ardent 
 supporter of the Sverdrup-BjOrnson policies, and elected three times 
 to the Storting. He was early a leader of the National party among 
 the students. Too independent ever to submit wholly to party control, 
 he was always more or less in opposition. In the flourishing times of 
 Scandinavism he was prominent and of excellent influence. Because 
 of his political opposition to the Conservative government of Stang, 
 he did not receive the merited University professorship of history until 
 1863. Although feared as a caustic writer by all, he was warm-hearted 
 and in reality a noble personality, one of the most original and best 
 figures in the modern history of Norway. This poem must have been 
 written soon after 1870. 
 
 Page 170. 
 
 Oh, When will you Stand Forth ? Written early (in February?) 
 
 in 1872. For the mood of this poem compare the poem Good Cheer, 
 
256 NOTES 
 
 page 146, and notes thereto, and some of the notes to the poem lojohan 
 S'verdrup, page 133. The years just before and after 1 870 were a time 
 of intense conflicts, in all of which Bjornson had a large part. His 
 personality was fanatically admired by many adherents, but was also 
 bitterly attacked even with misrepresentation and slander, by those 
 who supported the party of the Right. He was almost persecuted by the 
 leading Conservative newspaper in Christiania, whose editor was in 
 large measure the model for the title-hero of Bjornson's drama. The 
 Editor, written soon after. 
 Hafur, see page 228. 
 
 Page 172. 
 
 At Hansteen's Bier. The astronomer and physicist, Christopher 
 Hansteen, was born September 26, 1784, and died April 15, 1873; he 
 was buried April 2 1 . Made lecturer ini8i4, hewas professor of astron- 
 omy and applied mathematics in the University until his retirement in 
 1 86 1. He was the leader of the world's study of magnetism, and made 
 Christiania the clearing-house of the labors in this field of science. The 
 earliest Norwegian scientist of world-wide fame, he was a member of 
 many learned societies and the recipient of many Orders. 
 
 Page 173. 
 
 Rallying Song for Freedom in the North. "The United Left" 
 is here the liberal, democratic party of the Lower House (Folketing) 
 of the Danish Parliament. As earlier, 1868-69, i" Norway, a consti- 
 tutional conflict had now begun in Denmark, which continued with 
 acute crises at intervals until the compromise of 1894 and the acces- 
 sion of the Left to control of the government in 1901. The theme of 
 the poem is the parallel between the political movements in the two 
 countries, the union of the peasant opposition with that of the town- 
 people in favor of a liberal policy. The power of truth to prevail is 
 also set forth by Bjornson in his later drama, TAe Neuj System. 
 
 Page 174. 
 
 At a Banquet. The coronation was that of Oskar II, as King of 
 
 Norway. 
 
 Olaf's, Olaf Trygvason, see page 233. 
 
 Page 177. 
 
 Song of Freedom. See the poem, Rallying Song, etc., page 173, and 
 
 notes thereto. 
 
NOTES 257 
 
 Page 178. 
 
 To MoLDE. This poem, begun in 1878, was finished the next year in 
 Copenhagen. Bjornson attended a school in Molde from his eleventh 
 to his eighteenth year. The varied beauty, not too grand and not too 
 somber, of the scenery about Molde left on him indelible impressions. 
 
 Page 181. 
 
 Hamar-made Matches. To this poem Bjornson appended a note : 
 "The founder of Norway's first folk-high-school, Herman Anker, 
 built later in Hamar a match factory [the first large one in the country], 
 the product of which was quickly distributed in Norway and offered 
 for sale on the street with the cry : ' Here your Hamar-made matches I ' 
 The poem is a sort of allegorical comparison of these two 'works 
 of enlightenment' from the hand of the same man." Herman Anker 
 (1839-96) studied theology, and after the death of his father, a whole- 
 sale merchant, inherited a very considerable fortune, which he applied 
 mostly to cultural purposes. With O. Arvesen he founded in 1864 the 
 first Norwegian folk-high-school at Sagatun, near Hamar. 
 
 Volk-high-schools are schools for adult men and women, where the 
 instruction aims directly at making good citizens. The method of in- 
 struction is "historical," but the teacher's personality is all-important 
 in relation to the pupil's individuality. The subjects are the country's 
 language and history, history of the world, mathematics and physics, 
 besides the elementary subjects ; physical exercise is also made impor- 
 tant. The home of these schools is Denmark, whence they spread to 
 Norway, Sweden, Finland, and the Danes in North America. Origi- 
 nated by N. F. S. Grundtvig (see page 25+), who began to plan them 
 early in the nineteenth century as part of the national restoration of 
 Denmark after 1813-14, the first was opened in 1844 at Rodding in 
 Jutland. Since i86i these schools have received women during the 
 summer, May to August, and men from November to April. Many 
 were established after 1 864, which have flourished in the country, but 
 not in the cities. Quite a few were started in Norway, and all were 
 highly successful for some years. 
 
 Page 185. 
 
 The Pure Norwegian Flag. The poems here grouped were written 
 in 1879 during the active beginning of the so-called "Flag-conflict" 
 in behalf of the removal from the flag of Norway of the mark of union 
 with Sweden. For a description of the flags of Sweden and Norway, 
 see page 231. 
 
zs8 NOTES 
 
 The history of the flag of Norway is briefly this; In 1748 the use of 
 the Dannebrog (see page 241) was fixed by law for Denmark and 
 Norway. In February, 18 14., a decree of Prince Regent Christian Fred- 
 erik made Norway's flag to be the Dannebrog with Norway's arms 
 (a crowned lion bearing an axe) in the upper square nearest the staff. 
 Article 11 of the Constitution of 1814 declared: Norway shall have 
 its own merchant-flag; its war-flag shall be a union-flag. Because of 
 the Barbary Coast pirates, however, the Swedish flag with the mark 
 of union was used south of Cape Finisterre, and north of it Christian 
 Frederik's Norwegian flag. In 1821 the present pure Norwegian flag 
 was established by Royal resolution as the merchant-flag, to be used 
 north of Cape Finisterre; in 1838 its use was extended by the King 
 to all waters. The war-flag was still the Swedish flag with a union- 
 mark consisting of a white diagonal cross on a red ground. In 1844 
 King Oskar I by resolution decreed that both the merchant-flag and 
 the war-flag of Norway should be the flag of 1821, with the addition 
 of a mark of union. There was at once some criticism of the union- 
 mark in the merchant-flag, but in general the situation was quietly 
 accepted for a generation. This was due to Scandinavism, which 
 began to flourish soon after 1844. Towards 1870, however {t.e., after 
 1864), Scandinavism lost its force, and the pure flag began to be used 
 within Norway more and more. The real conflict began in 1879 with 
 a motion in the Storting on February 17 to reenact the flag-law of 
 1 8 2 1 . There was bitter opposition from Conservatives in Norway, and 
 naturally from Sweden, and the conflict gradually broadened to em- 
 brace everything involved in the union with Sweden, in proportion as 
 the national spirit of Norway was quickened and strengthened. The 
 famous flag-meeting in Christiania on March 1 3, 1879, ^^^ Bjornson's 
 speech there were the first decisive blow. Essentially the law of 1821 
 was passed by three Stortings, in 1893, 1896, and 18 98, and proclaimed 
 as law without the King's sanction. 
 
 Thor's hammer-mark. Thor's weapon was a hammer = the blue 
 lightning. The symbol of this was the T-mark, to which shape the 
 name cross has also been given ; this mark was much used in the vi- 
 king period as a sign of Thor's protection. In the flag the blue cross is 
 within a white cross on a red ground. 
 
 Colors of freedom. On the institution of the flag of 1821, its red, 
 white, and blue were especially acceptable in Norway, as being the 
 colors characteristic of free states, typified by the French tricolor. 
 
 Torgny, see page 231. 
 
NOTES 259 
 
 Ridderstad. The author and journalist, Karl Fredrik Ridderstad 
 ( 1 807-1 8 8 6), who had published in his newspaper a conciliatory poem 
 in defense of the Swedish view, to which Bjornson here makes answer. 
 
 Page 190. 
 
 To Missionary Skrefsrud in Santalistan. Written in 1879. Lars 
 Olsen Skrefsrud, born in Gudbrandsdal in 1 840, at first a metal worker, 
 led for a time a wild life, and was committed under a sentence of four 
 years to a penitentiary, where he remained from February, 1859, to 
 October, 1861. Here he underwent a complete inner transformation 
 and resolved to become a Christian missionary. Rejected by the Nor- 
 wegian missionary institutions, he went in 1862 to Berlin, and entered 
 a School for Missions there. He supported himself by work as an en- 
 graver, and by unflagging private study acquired adequate learning 
 and the knowledge of languages. He went to a German Mission in 
 India, which he left in January, 1866. In 1867 he began his independ- 
 ent work in Santalistan. Here his persistence and success attracted 
 the attention and support of the English, and thus he gradually be- 
 came known and esteemed in his native land, where a Santalistan 
 Society was formed to aid his undertakings. In 1882 he was duly or- 
 dained as clergyman by a bishop of the State Church. In 1873 he 
 published a grammar and in 1904 a dictionary of the language of San- 
 talistan. 
 
 I do not share your faith. The memorable speech which Bjornson 
 delivered to the students in Christiania on October 31, 1877, the an- 
 niversary of Luther's posting his theses in Wittenberg, revealed that 
 after a hard inner struggle he had freed himself from the religious 
 faith of his early life. The theme of this speech, " Be in the truth ! " 
 showed that for him henceforth the supreme thing was freedom of 
 thought and fidelity to the truth as expanding development might 
 manifest it to the individual. Liberal in thought from the beginning, 
 Bjornson departed more and more, not least through the influence of 
 Grundtvig, from the strict dogmatic orthodoxy of the State Church. 
 The study of Darwin, Spencer, Mill, and Comte led him still farther 
 on to a position which may be called that of the agnostic theist, that 
 of Spencer, who does not deny God, but says ignoramus. We may re- 
 call the late utterance of Bjornson, quoted above: "Grundtvig and 
 Goethe are my two poles." It was the dogma of Hell, the teaching of 
 eternal damnation and punishment, that began Bjornson's breach with 
 the Church. He saw how this doctrine enslaved and dwarfed the souls 
 
26o NOTES 
 
 of the peasants, and blighted all liberal development, both personal 
 and political. 
 
 Page 191. 
 
 Post Festum. BjOrnson was a decided opponent of the whole system 
 of decorations and orders, royal and other. Here he attacks the Swed- 
 ish polar explorer, A. E. von NordenskjOld (November 1 8, 1 8 3 2-August 
 20, 1 901), who earlier had taken the same stand. After NordenskjOld 
 had successfully made the Northern Passage, there was a great formal 
 reception for him on his return to Stockholm, April 24, 1880, at which 
 King Oskar II decorated him. He also received similar honors from 
 most of the rulers of Europe. 
 
 Page 192. 
 
 RoMSDAL. Written in 1880 on a lecture tour along the western coast. 
 The scenery and the people described BjOrnson knew intimately from 
 his boyhood's years at Nes and in Molde, and from later visits to his 
 parents at the former place. Collin says: "The whole poem fits like 
 a frame about the poet and his life-work. . . . Both with its [Norway's 
 scenery's] violence and brusqueness and with its surprising gentleness 
 BjOrnson has kinship." The last line of the poem includes the poet 
 himself. 
 
 Page 198. 
 
 HoLGER Drachmann. Probably written in 1879. This Danish pro- 
 ductive author (and painter), best known as lyric poet and novelist, was 
 bom in 1846 and died in 1908. Here he received from BjOrnson a reply 
 to verses of homage addressed byhim to the latter in 1878. Drachmann's 
 early years were turbulent and revolutionary, full of feuds with every- 
 body. He belonged to the literary and esthetic Left, opposing all ex- 
 isting institutions. BjOrnson's characterization exhibits Drachmann at 
 the height of his poetic production. His most popular prose book had 
 recently stirred the Danish national heart and rous ed the spirit of Scan- 
 dinavism. The collections of his poems : Songs by the Sea, 'Tendrils and 
 Roses, Youth in Poem and Song, he never surpassed. Perhaps the best 
 were the group of Venetian Songs, written in Venice in the spring of 
 1876, to which time belongs also his finest story^ Tiuo Shots. During 
 the next decade Drachmann underwent an extreme conservative 
 reaction, but about 1890 returned again to his youthful passion for 
 rebellion, romantic radicalism, and the religion of esthetic freedom. 
 
NOTES 261 
 
 Page 200. 
 
 A Meeting. Hans Thorvald Brecke was born December 1,1847, and 
 died June 9, 1875. As student from 186410 i87ohe wrote several witty 
 student comedies, and is described as a remarlcably charming person- 
 ality. In 1871 he became judge's clerk in Molde, and here had one 
 bright and happy year. Against the disease which showed itself in the 
 fall of 1872 he contended in vain. This poem was probably written in 
 the latter part of 1875. 
 
 Page 201. 
 
 The Poet. This poem, the following Psalms, and ^estion and Ansnver 
 conclude the second edition of Poems and Songs, which was published 
 April 29, 1880. They were probably written late in 1879 or very early 
 in 1880. In a crisis of renewed literary and political attacks upon 
 him, the poet BjOrnson, under the inspiration of his motto "Be in the 
 truth ! " (see page 259), proclaims the mission to which he is called : To 
 be In religion and life, political and social, the liberator of his people 
 from falsehood and ignorance, and the comforting helper of all who 
 suffer. 
 
 Page 210. 
 
 Song for. Norway's Riflemen. In 1881 the constitutional conflict 
 between the Left and the Right over the nature of the King's veto had 
 become acute. The question was whether the veto-power was suspensive 
 or absolute as to amendments of the Constitution. The Left maintained 
 that it was only suspensive, and the conflict was ended in favor of this 
 view by the Supreme Court in 1884; an amendment enacted by three 
 independently elected Stortings is valid without the King's sanction. 
 This poem shows that the people were preparing to defend their right 
 by force in the spirit of BjOrnson's often quoted words in his electoral 
 campaign speech about the same time at Stiklestad: "If any one says 
 that the monarchy [the King] declares it [he] cannot give up the abso- 
 lute veto, you must answer openly : ' Then the Norwegian people must 
 give up the monarchy [the King].' " 
 
 Page 211. 
 
 Workmen's March. Published in the third edition of 1S90, and 
 written not long before for the Workmen's Union in Christiania. It is 
 a plea for the' universal franchise and party organization. 
 
 Vardo = northernmost, yiten and Finger = southernmost Norway. 
 
z62 NOTES 
 
 Page 212. 
 
 The Land That Shall Be. See the poem Hamar-made Matc^ej,fiige 
 
 1 8 1 , and notes thereto. 
 
 Page 214. 
 
 Norway, Norway ! First published in the edition of 1 890. The. poet 
 has himself stated that he wrote it at Aulestad, on being asked to fur- 
 nish a song for the flag-procession of boys and girls on the 1 7th of May 
 (see pages 227, 228). 
 
 Runes in the nuoodlands, as it were written records of the labors of 
 past generations. 
 
 Page 216. 
 
 When Comes the Morning? From the novel, /a God's Way, pub- 
 lished in 1889. 
 
 Page 218. 
 
 May Seventeenth. In memory of the unveiling of Henrik Werge- 
 land's statue in Christiania on the 17th of May, 1881, when BjOrnson 
 also delivered a great oration. Henrik Arnold Wergeland was born June 
 17, 1808, in Christiansand, and died August 12, 1845, in Christiania. 
 Though he studied theology, he devoted his life to poetry and politics. 
 His earliest writings, farces and poems, showed powerful, but uncon- 
 trolled, genius. His great popularity began in 1829 with his active en- 
 trance into public life. He labored for the enlightenment of his people 
 through his writings and his personal influence in journeyings all over 
 the land, and especially through speeches at political meetings. His 
 chief poetic work, the rationalistic-republican didactic poem. Creation, 
 Man, and Messiah, appeared in 1830. It was severely criticised in a 
 special, polemical writing by Welhaven (see page 244), who continued 
 his attack on all Wergeland's views and teachings in his Norixiay's 
 Daivn. Thus arose the Wergeland- Welhaven conflict, which was car- 
 ried on hotly for many years by their adherents, and contributed much 
 to the intellectual development of the nation. Wergeland was very pro- 
 ductive as editor, publicist, and poet. In 1840 he was appointed Keeper 
 of the Archives, and held this government office until his death. 
 
 In his own time Wergeland was in spirit the head of the radical- 
 national "Peasant party," which was indeed patriotic and democratic, 
 but too narrowly Norwegian, in opposition to all that was Danish, 
 European, foreign. During the years preceding 1881 he had come to 
 
NOTES 263 
 
 be in the constitutional conflict a national hero, the idol of the peas- 
 ants, as their political power increased. 
 
 Come no-TU the feasants. In this volume of translations "peasant" is 
 the rendering of the Norwegian word "bonde." The meaning is 
 "farmer," i.e., in general the independent owner of land, which he cul- 
 tivates and on which he lives. In Norway the conditions have for many 
 centuries been more favorable for the "peasant" than in any other 
 European country; this is due to the topography and to the absence of 
 a powerful nobility. At the present time scarcely one-twentieth of the 
 tilled area in Norway is cultivated by tenants. The Norwegian "peas- 
 ants" have always had great self-consciousness in the best sense, and 
 importance in the political, economic, and social life of the country, 
 especially since the adoption of the democratic Constitution of 18 14. 
 Very often the "peasants" have an aristocratic pride in a lineage traced 
 back to ancient "kings," and in their own distinctively "Norse" cul- 
 ture. 
 
 bsterdaVs . . . cMeftaia, zpezsant of large stature, named Hjelmstad, 
 a radical member of the Storting. 
 
 The old banner. A flag much used in earlier times as specifically Nor- 
 wegian, dating back to King Erik (i 280-1299), before the union with 
 Denmark, showed on a red ground a lion wearing a golden crown and 
 bearing an axe. As late as 1698 it flew over the fortress Akershus in 
 Christiania. 
 
 The future, i.e.y the independence realized in 1905 through the dis- 
 solution of the union with Sweden. 
 
 Page 219. 
 
 Frederik Hegel. This poem is the last in the third edition (1890), for 
 which it seems to have been written. Hegel (1817-1887) was from 
 1850 the head of the Gyldendal publishing house in Copenhagen. 
 BjOrnson made his acquaintance in i860, and, beginning with King 
 S'uerre in 1861, Hegel became BjOrnson 's publisher. In 1865 BjOrn- 
 son's influence secured to him Ibsen's works, and later those of Lie 
 and many other Norwegian authors. The cultural dependence of Nor- 
 way upon Denmark for centuries had prevented the prosperous growth 
 of the publishing business in the former country, whose leading pub- 
 lisher went into bankruptcy soon after 1 860. That BjOrnson thus went 
 to Copenhagen with his books may seem to have been a blow to the 
 cause of Norwegian independence, and to have delayed the rise of a 
 thriving, stable business, but on the other hand BjOmson's action and 
 
z64 NOTES 
 
 influence contributed greatly to establish for perhaps half a century 
 a certain dominance of the Norwegian spirit in all Scandinavia. For 
 BjOmson personally, as his correspondence with Hegel shows, it was 
 certainly a great good fortune to gain Hegel as his publisher and later 
 as his friend. This Hegel was to all his authors in the most faithful, 
 self-sacrificing way, and no less their valued financial adviser. 
 
 Page 221. 
 
 Our Language. Written in defense of the Norwegian-Danish speech 
 of the cultured classes and of the cities in Norway, the result of de- 
 velopment and tradition through several centuries, the so-called Riks- 
 ZHaa/ (language of the kingdom) or £y»iaa/ (city-language). This, and 
 with it the higher spiritual interests of the nation, seemed to BjOrnson 
 to be endangered by the agitation in behalf of the Landsmaal (rural 
 language). The Landsmaal arose from a movement after 1 8 14, to make 
 Norway independent of Denmark in language also. The rural dialects 
 were regarded as more purely Norwegian ; on them and tht Old Norse 
 as a basis was constructed somewhat artificially this standard rural 
 language. It has been gradually perfected, and is now, in fact, spoken 
 and written a good deal: BjOrnson advocated rather the natural pro- 
 cess of making the language of the country more national by gradu- 
 ally introducing dialect words and reforming the orthography. He 
 thought that the Riksmaal thus modified alone could preserve, increase, 
 and transmit the treasures of culture. 
 
 Ha/</= Fredrikshald, see page 229. 
 
 Holherg, see page 237. 
 
 Kierkegaard. SOren Aaby Kierkegaard (1813-1855) was the most 
 subtle and profound thinker produced by Denmark, with a prose style 
 noble, poetic, and eloquent. His writings deal with religion, ethics, 
 and esthetics, and present his individual, ideal conception of Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 Wergelattd, see page 262. 
 
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