Sung For Norway's Riflemen (1881)

(See Note 73)

Fly 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 armèd 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,
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.

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson was a Norwegian writer and one of the four great Norwegian writers, along with Henrik Ibsen, Jonas Lie, and Alexander Kielland. Bjørnson is recognized for his pivotal role in Norwegian literature and his works contributing significantly to Norwegian national identity. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1903 and also wrote the lyrics to the Norwegian national anthem, 'Ja, vi elsker dette landet'. Bjørnson was an influential figure in Norway's cultural and political life during his lifetime.

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

Good-Morning (From The Fisher Maiden)

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

From Monte Pincio

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

Norse Nature (In Ringerike During The Student Meeting Of 1869)

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

Secret Love

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Song For Norway (1859) National Hymn

(See Note 1)

Yes, 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;
Others' lot was naught but weeping,
Tears that brought their meed.

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

Song For The Students' Glee Club

Now, 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,
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 Hald 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 rid...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

To Sweden (December 28, 1863)

(See Note 22)

Lift thou thine ancient yellow-blue!
Aloft the front must show it.
The German's slow to take the cue,
But seeing that he'll know it.

He'll 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, -

With Haakon Earl the times of old

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

Norwegian Seamen's Song (For The Stavanger Regatta, 1868)

(See Note 34)

Norwegian 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 he...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

At A Banquet Given To The Deputation Of The Swedish Riksdag To The Coronation, In Trondhjem, July 17, 1873

(See Note 62)

You 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,
The question puts to sea and strand:
Are men now in the Northern land
    Like yesterday's?

'T is 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;

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

Rallying Song For Freedom In The North To "The United Left"

(Tirol, 1874)
(See Note 61)

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, betrayed, -
Say, is it not thus truth ever progress has made?

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.

With Northern allies warring we take the Northern
For God and for our freedom - is the watchword we bring.
That God, who gave us country and language, and 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 f...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson