To The Dannebrog

(WHEN DYBBÖL 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, 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!

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

Old Heltberg

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

Olaf Trygvason

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

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

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

Song For The Students' Glee Club

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

English

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King Frederik The Seventh (1863)

(See Note 21)

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!

Now soon it was pl...

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

King Christian. A National Song Of Denmark. From The Danish Of Johannes Evald.

King Christian stood by the lofty mast
    In mist and smoke;
His sword was hammering so fast,
Through Gothic helm and brain it passed;
Then sank each hostile hulk and mast,
    In mist and smoke.
"Fly!" shouted they, "fly, he who can!
Who braves of Denmark's Christian
    The stroke?"

Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar,
    Now is the hour!
He hoisted his blood-red flag once more,
And smoke upon the foe full sore,
And shouted loud, through the tempest's roar,
    "Now is the hour!"
"Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter fly!
Of Denmark's Juel who can defy
    The power?"

North Sea! a glimpse of Wessel rent
    Thy murky sky!
Then champions to thine arms were sent;
Terror and Death glared where he went;
From the wave...

William Henry Giles Kingston

Answer From Norway To The Speeches In The Swedish House Of Nobles, 1860

Have 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,
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 Lützen stumble,
Close this straw-thatched cottage humble,
Drag our grandsire's ancient se...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

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 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.

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 ...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

The Norröna-Race

(NOVEMBER 4, 1864)

Norröna-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 Lützen must inherit
Full half the world its light.

Firs...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson