Poems and Songs Part 12

OUR FOREFATHERS (JANUARY 13, 1864) (See Note 23)

High memories with power s.h.i.+ne through the wintry North On every peak's white tower, On Kattegat so swarth.

All is so still and s.p.a.cious, '

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.

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) (See Note 24) 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 s.h.i.+ne, 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.

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 kins.h.i.+p 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, 'T is still evermore.

But a German admiral's frigate lies Near Scania's sh.o.r.e.

DANIEL SCHJoTZ (DIED OF OVER-EXERTION AS VOLUNTEER MILITARY-SURGEON, 1864)

He gave heed to no Great Power But the one that G.o.d 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.

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 s.h.i.+eld.

TO THE DANNEBROG (WHEN DYBBoL WAS CAPTURED) (See Note 25)

Dannebrog 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, b.l.o.o.d.y 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!

TOAST FOR THE MEN OF EIDSVOLD (MAY 17, 1864) (See Note 26)

'Twas 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 s.h.i.+ps the oceans measured, And springtime thoughts were free to run As round the Pole the midnight sun.

And still with G.o.d we'll conquer, hold: Each plot reclaimed for harvest-reaping, Each s.h.i.+p 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)

Norrona-race's longing, It was the sea's free wave, And fight of heroes thronging, And honor that it gave; 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 Lutzen 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.

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!

G.o.d, 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!

HUNTING SONG (FROM MARIA STUART)

Round 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 a.s.sail, Cliffs a.s.sail.

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!