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; 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) (See Note 42)

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 of _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.

Upon this poured its radiant warmth pervading My mother's soul; of wedded joy the glory Crowns not alone your aged heads and h.o.a.ry; 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 gladness, For whom you lived in anxious fear unceasing, Since forth he flew with strength of wing increasing, For whom to G.o.d 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 G.o.d'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 (See Note 43)

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,-- 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.

+ AT MICHAEL SARS'S GRAVE (See Note 44)

Ever 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 pa.s.sed beyond, Softly dreaming; fond Nature met him as her lover.

G.o.d 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 a.s.sembled, Where the tiniest life-pulse trembled, There he sought the clue, Silent, wise, and true.

In a water gla.s.s Searching he saw pa.s.s 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 (See Note 45)

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 a.s.sa.s.sination,-- 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 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,-- _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.

_You_ 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'll 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, 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.