Poems and Songs Part 19

The spirit of our nation's morn, The unity of free G.o.ds 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, 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 G.o.d 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 fas.h.i.+on better, By modern bishop-synod's letter?

Is _this_ by politics provided, When into "Chambers" 't is divided?

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 pa.s.sion 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 G.o.d to us bequeathed.

'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

Toward G.o.d in heaven s.p.a.cious 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 G.o.d's name he stammers yet once more, The rue of tears now paying And praying.

When now life's conflict stirring Leads him along through doubtings 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.

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 (See Note 46)

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.

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-sear led.

Old heroes proud or merry Rising to greet him went, But first of all King Sverre, From whom was his descent.

+ ANTON MARTIN SCHWEIGAARD (IN THE CHURCH AFTER THE FUNERAL ORATION) (See Note 47)

Give us, G.o.d, 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 G.o.d, 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.

Men then marveled, the while they said: "Living and dead, O'er all our land he beauty spread."

Help us, G.o.d, to wiser waring, When to our land Thou light art bearing, That we Thy dayspring then may know.

G.o.d, 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 G.o.d, 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) (See Note 48)

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.

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 pa.s.sing o'er, Will but be made the clearer; It is the far eternal sh.o.r.e, 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.

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 s.h.i.+ne your wondrous visions.