Books: Poems and Songs
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Bjornstjerne Bjornson >> Poems and Songs
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FROM MONTE PINCIO
Evening is coming, the sun waxes red,
Radiant colors from heaven are beaming
Life's lustrous longings in infinite streaming;--
Glory in death o'er the mountains is spread.
Cupolas burn, but the fog in far masses
Over the bluish-black fields softly passes,
Rolling as whilom oblivion pale;
Hid is yon valley 'neath thousand years' veil.
Evening so red and warm
Glows as the people swarm,
Notes of the cornet flare,
Flowers and brown eyes fair.
Great men of old stand in marble erected,
Waiting, scarce known and neglected.
Vespers are ringing, through roseate air
Nebulous floating of tone-sacrifices,
Twilight in churches now broadens and rises,
Incense and word fill the evening with prayer.
Over the Sabines the flame-belt is knotted,
Shepherds' lights through the Campagna are dotted,
Rome with her lamps dimly breaks on the sight,--
Shadowy legend from history's night.
But to the evening's spell
Dances the Saltarell';--
Fireworks flash and play,
Mora and laughter gay;--
Colors and tones in all thoughts are enthroning
Harmony's gracious condoning.
Lost has the light in its soundless affray,
Heaven its vaulting of dark-blue is framing,
Where from infinity deep stars are flaming,
Earth's masses sink into vapor away.
Fleeing the darkness, the eyes seek the city,
Meet with its torches a corpse borne in pity;
These seek the night, but a flag is each light,
Waving the hope of eternity bright.
Gaily to dance and wine
Mandolins give the sign.
Monkish song, noise of streets,
Drowned by a drum's stern beats;--
Through all the dreaming life's arteries flowing,
Glimpses of daylight are going.
Silence o'er all, and the darker blue sky
Watches serenely expectant, 'mid cheering
Dreams of the past and the future that's nearing:--
Fluctuant gleams in the gray that is nigh.
But they will gather, and Rome be resurgent,
Day-dawn from Italy's midnight emergent:
Cannon shall sound and the bells ring the new,
Mem'ries illumine the future's bright blue!--
Greeting a bridal pair
Charming in hope so rare,
Voices bring soft salute,
Music of harp and flute.
Mightier yearnings sweet sleep is beguiling;--
Lesser dare waken to smiling.
IF ONLY YOU KNEW IT
I dare never speak up to you,
For you to look down would not do,
But always you are there each day,
And always I wander this way.
Our thoughts go by stealth to make search and renew it,
But neither dares question nor give answer due it;
If only you knew it!
When constantly I could be found,
You often in pride on me frowned;
But now that I rarely appear,
I see that you wait for me here!
Two eyes, oh, two eyes made a snare and then drew it,
And who would escape must beware, and eschew it!
If only you knew it!
Yes, if you but guessed, this might be
A poem for you made by me,
Whose billowy lines just now fly
Up where you stand graceful and high!
But look you, this knowledge, to no purpose grew it,
I farther will go, Heaven guard, lest we rue it,--
If only you knew it!
THE ANGELS OF SLEEP
Asleep the child fell
When night cast its spell;
The angels came near
With laughter and cheer.
Her watch at its waking the mother was keeping:
"How sweet, my dear child, was your smile now while sleeping!"
To God mother went,
From home it was rent;
Asleep the child fell
'Neath tears' troublous spell.
But soon it heard laughter and mother-words tender;
The angels brought dreams full of childhood's rare splendor.
It grew with the years,
Till gone were the tears;
Asleep the child fell,
While thoughts cast their spell.
But faithful the angels their vigils were keeping,
The thoughts took and whispered: "Have peace now, while sleeping!"
THE MAIDEN ON THE SHORE
She wandered so young on the shore around,
Her thoughts were by naught on earth now bound.
Soon came there a painter, his art he plied
Above the tide,
In shadow wide,--
He painted the shore and herself beside.
More slowly she wandered near him around,
Her thoughts by a single thing were bound.
And this was his picture wherein he drew
Herself so true,
Herself so true,
Reflected in ocean with heaven's blue.
All driven and drawn far and wide around
Her thoughts now by everything were bound.
Far over the ocean,--and yet most dear
The shore right here,
The man so near,
Did ever the sunshine so bright appear!
SECRET LOVE
He gloomily sat by the wall,
As gaily she danced with them all.
Her laughter's light spell
On every one fell;
His heartstrings were near unto rending,
But this there was none comprehending.
She fled from the house, when at eve
He came there to take his last leave.
To hide her she crept,
She wept and she wept;
Her life-hope was shattered past mending,
But this there was none comprehending.
Long years dragged but heavily o'er,
And then he came back there once more.
--Her lot was the best,
In peace and at rest;
Her thought was of him at life's ending,
But this there was none comprehending.
OLAF TRYGVASON
(See Note 10)
Broad the sails o'er the North Sea go;
High on deck in the morning glow
Erling Skjalgsson from Sole
Scans all the sea toward Denmark:
"Cometh never Olaf Trygvason?"
Six and fifty the ships are there,
Sails are let down, toward Denmark stare
Sun-reddened men;--then murmur:
"Where is the great Long Serpent?
Cometh never Olaf Trygvason?"
When the sun in the second dawn
Cloudward rising no mast had drawn,
Grew to a storm their clamor:
"Where is the great Long Serpent?
Cometh never Olaf Trygvason?"
Silent, silent that moment bound,
Stood they all; for from ocean's ground
Sighed round the fleet a muffled:
"Taken the great Long Serpent,
Fallen is Olaf Trygvason."
Ever since, through so many a year,
Norway's ships must beside them hear,
Clearest in nights of moonshine:
"Taken the great Long Serpent,
Fallen is Olaf Trygvason."
A SIGH
Evening sunshine never
Solace to my window bears,
Morning sunshine elsewhere fares;--
Here are shadows ever.
Sunshine freely falling,
Wilt thou not my chamber find?
Here some rays would reach a mind,
'Mid the dark appalling.
Morning sunshine's gladness,
Oh, thou art my childhood bright;
While _thou_ playest pure and white,
_I_ would weep in sadness.
Evening sunshine's whiling,
Oh, thou art the wise man's rest;--
Farther on! Then from the west
Greet my window smiling!
Morning sunshine's singing,
Oh, thou art the fantasy
That the sun-glad world lifts free,
Past my powers' winging.
Evening sunshine's quiet,
Thou art more than wisdom's rest,
Christian faith glows in thee blest:
Calm my soul's wild riot!
TO A GODSON
(1861)
(With an album containing portraits of all those who at the time of
his birth were leaders in the intellectual and political world.)
Here hast thou before thee that constellation
Whereunder was born thy light;
These stars in the vault of high thoughts' mutation
Will fashion thy life with might.
Their prophecy, little one, we cannot know,
They light up the way that, unknown, thou shalt go
And kindle the thoughts that within shall glow.
Thou first shalt them gather,
Then choose thine own,--
So canst thou the rather
Grope on alone.
BERGLIOT
(See Note 11)
(Harald Haardraade's saga, towards the end of Chapter 45, reads thus:
When Einar Tambarskelve's wife Bergliot, who had remained behind in
her lodgings in the town, learned of the death of her husband and of
her sort, she went straight to the royal residence, where the armed
force of peasants was, and eagerly urged them to fight. But in that
very moment the King (Harald) rowed out along the river. Then said
Bergliot: "Now miss we here my kinsman, Haakon Ivarson; never should
Einar's murderer row out along the river, if Haakon stood here on the
river-bank.")
(In her lodgings)
To-day King Harald
Must hold his ting-peace;
For Einar has here
Five hundred peasants.
Our son Eindride
Safeguards his father,
Who goes in fearless
The King defying.
Thus maybe Harald,
Mindful that Einar
Has crowned in Norway
Two men with kingship,
Will grant that peace be,
On law well grounded;
This was his promise,
His people's longing.--
What rolling sand-waves
Swirl up the roadway!
What noise is nearing!
Look forth, my footboy!
--The wind's but blowing!
Here storms beat wildly;
The fjord is open,
The fells low-lying.
The town's unchanged
Since child I trod it;
The wind sends hither
The snarling sea-hounds.
--What flaming thunder
From thousand voices!
Steel-weapons redden
With stains of warfare!
The shields are clashing!
See, sand-clouds rising,
Speer-billows rolling
Round Tambarskelve!
Hard is his fortune!--
Oh, faithless Harald:
Death's ravens roving
Ride o'er thy ting-peace!
Fetch forth the wagon,
Drive to the fighting!
At home to cower
Would cost my life now.
(On the way)
O yeomen, yield not,
Circle and save him!
Eindride, aid now
Thine aged father!
Build a shield-bulwark
For him bow-bending!
Death has no allies
Like Einar's arrows!
And thou, Saint Olaf,
Oh, for thy son's sake!
Help him with good words
In Gimle's high hall!
( Nearer )
Our foes are the stronger ...
They fight now no longer ...
Subduing,
Pursuing,
They press to the river,--
What is it that's done?
What makes me thus quiver?
Will fortune us shun?
What stillness astounding!
The peasants are staying,
Their lances now grounding,
Two dead men surrounding,
Nor Harald delaying!
What throngs now enwall
The ting-hall's high door! ...
Silent they all
Let me pass o'er!
_Where is Eindride_!--
Glances of pity
Fear lest they show it,
Flee lest they greet me ...
So I must know it:
Two deaths there will meet me!--
Room! I must see:
Oh, it is they!--
Can it so be?--
Yes, it is they!
Fallen the noblest
Chief of the Northland;
Best of Norwegian
Bows is broken.
Fallen is Einar
Tambarskelve,
Our son beside him,--
Eindride!
Murdered with malice,
He, who to Magnus
More was than father,
King Knut the Mighty's
Son's counselor good.
Slain by assassins
Svolder's sharp-shooter,
The lion that leaped on the
Heath of Lyrskog!
Pride of the peasants
Snared in a pitfall,
Time-honored Tronder,
Tambarskelve.
White-haired and honored,
Hurled to the hounds here,--
Our son beside him,
Eindride!
Up, up, ye peasants, he has fallen,
But he who felled him is living!
Have you not known me? Bergliot,
Daughter of Haakon from Hjörungavaag;--
Now I am Tambarskelve's widow.
To you I appeal, peasant-warriors:
My aged husband has fallen.
See, see, here is blood on his blanching hair,
Your heads shall it be on forever,
For cold it becomes, while vain is your vengeance.
Up, up, warriors, your chieftain has fallen,
Your honor, your father, the joy of your children,
Legend of all the valley, hero of all the land,--
Here he has fallen, will you not avenge him?
Murdered with malice within the king's hall,
The ting-hall, the hall of the law, thus murdered,
Murdered by him whom the law holds highest,--
From heaven will lightning fall on the land,
If thus left unpurged by the flames of vengeance.
Launch the long-ships from land
Einar's nine long-ships are lying here,
Let them hasten vengeance on Harald!
If he stood here, Haakon Ivarson,
If he stood here on the hill, my kinsman,
The fjord should not save the slayer of Einar,
And I should not seek you cowards who flinch!
Oh, peasants, hear me, my husband has fallen,
The high-seat of my thoughts through years half a hundred!
Overthrown it now is, and by its right side,
Our only son fell, oh, all our future!
All is now empty between my two arms;
Can I ever again lift them up in prayer?
Or whither on earth shall I betake me?
If I go and stay in the places of strangers,--
I shall long for those where we lived together.
But if I betake me thither,--
Ah, them, themselves I shall miss.
Odin in Valhall I dare not beseech;
For him I forsook in days of childhood.
But the great new God in Gimle?--
All that I had He has taken!
Vengeance? Who speaks of vengeance?
Can vengeance the dead awaken,
Or cover me warm from the cold?
Find I in it a widow's seat sheltered,
Solace to cheer a childless mother?
Away with your vengeance! Let me alone!
Lay him on the wagon, him and our son!
Come, we will follow them home.
That God in Gimle, new and fearful, who all has taken,
Let Him now also take vengeance! Well He knows how!
Drive slowly! For so drove Einar always;
--Soon enough we shall come home.
The dogs to-day will not greet us gladly,
But drearily howl with drooping tails.
And lifting their heads the horses will listen;
Neighing they stand, the stable-door watching,
Eindride's voice awaiting.
In vain for his voice will they hearken,
Nor hears the hall the step of Einar,
That called before him for all to arise and stand,
For now came their chieftain.
Too large the house is; I will lock it;
Workmen, servants send away;
Sell the cattle and the horses,
Move far hence and live alone.
Drive slowly!
--Soon enough we shall come home.
TO MY WIFE
(WITH A SET OF ROMAN PEARLS)
(See Note 12)
Pray, take these pearls!--and my thanks for them
You lavished, the home of my youth to gem!
The thousands of hours of peaceful luster
Your spirit has filled, are pearls that cluster
With beauty blest
On my happy breast,
And softly shining
My brow are entwining
With thoughts whence the truth gleams: Thus gave his wife,
Who jeweled with tenderest love his life!
IN A HEAVY HOUR
(See Note 13)
Be glad when danger presses
Each power your soul possesses!
In greater strain
Your strength shall gain,
Till greater vict'ry blesses!
Supports may break in pieces,
Your friends may have caprices,
But you shall see,
The end will be,
Your need of crutches ceases.
--'T is clear,
Whom God makes lonely,
To him He comes more near.
KAARE'S SONG
(FROM SIGURD SLEMBE)
(See Note 14)
KAARE
What wakens the billows, while sleeps the wind?
What looms in the west released?
What kindles the stars, ere day's declined,
Like fires for death's dark feast?
ALL
God aid thee here, our earl,
God aid thee here, our earl,
It is Helga, who comes unto Orkney.
KAARE
What drives the fierce dragon to ride the foam,
While billows with blood are red?
The sea-fowl are shrieking, they seek their home,
And hover around my head.
ALL
God aid thee here, our earl,
God aid thee here, our earl,
It is Helga, who comes unto Orkney.
KAARE
What maiden so strange to the strand draws nigh,
In light with soft music nears?
What is it that makes all the flowers die,
What fills all your eyes with tears?
ALL
God aid thee here, our earl,
God aid thee here, our earl,
It is Helga, who comes unto Orkney.
IVAR INGEMUNDSON'S LAY
(FROM SIGURD SLEMBE)
(See Note 15)
Wherefore have I longings,
When to live them strength is lacking?
And wherefore see I,
If I see but sorrow?
Flight of my eye to the great and distant
Dooms it to gales of darkening doubt;
But fleeing backward to the present,
It's prisoned in pain and pity.
For I see a land with no leader,
I see a leader with no land.
The land how heavy-laden
The leader how high his longing!
Might the men but know it,
That he is here among them!
But they see a man in fetters,
And leave him to lie there.
Round the ship a storm is raging,
At the rudder stands a fool. Who can save it?
He, who below the deck is longing,
Half-dead and in fetters.
(Looking upward)
Hear how they call Thee
And come with arms uplifted!
They have their savior at hand,
And Thou sayest it never?
Shall they, then, all thus perish,
Because the one seems absent?
Wilt Thou not let the fool die,
That life may endure in many?
What means that solemn saying:
_One_ shall suffer for many?
But many suffer for one.
Oh, what means it?
The wisdom Thou gavest
Wearies me with guesswork.
The light Thou hast dealt me
Leads me to darkness.
Not me alone, moreover,
But millions and millions!
Space unending spans not all the questions
From earth here and up toward heaven.
Weakness cowers in walls of cloisters,
But wills of power press onward,
And thronging, with longing,
They thrust one another out of the lands.--
Whither? Before their eyes is night,
"In Nazareth a light is set!" one says aloud,
A hundred thousand say it;
All see it now: To Nazareth!
But the half-part perish from hunger by the wayside,
The other half by the sword of the heathen,
The pest awaits the pilgrim in Nazareth,--
Wast Thou there, or wast Thou not there?
Oh, where art Thou?
The whole world now awakens,
And on the way is searching
And seeking after Thee!
Or wast Thou in the hunger?
Wast Thou in the pest?
Wast Thou in the sword of the heathen?
Saltest Thou with the salt of wrath?
Refinest Thou with suffering's fire?
Hast Thou millions of millions hidden in Thy future,
Whom Thou thus wilt save to freedom?
Oh, to them are the thousands that now suffer
But _one_,
And that one I would beseech Thee for--
Nothing!
I follow a little brook
And find it leads to an ocean,
I see here a little drop,
And swelling in mist it mounts a mighty cloud.
See, how I'm tossed so will-less
By troublous waves of doubt,
The wind overturned my little boat,
The wreck is all my refuge.
Lead me, lead me,
I see nowhere land!
Lift me, lift me,
I nowhere footing find!
MAGNUS THE BLIND
(FROM SIGURD SLEMBE)
(See Note 16)
"Oh, let me look once again and see
Starlight the heavens o'ersweeping!"
Begged young Magnus on bended knee,
It was sore to see.
All the women afar were weeping.
"Oh, till to-morrow! The mountains to see
And ocean its blue displaying,
Only once, and then let it be!"
Thus he bent the knee,
While his friends for mercy were praying.
"Oh, in the church let God's blood so bright
Be the last blessing that greets me!
It shall bathe with a flood of light
Through eternal night
My eyes, when the darkness meets me!"
Deep sank the steel, and each seeing eye
Lightning-like night had swallowed.
"Magnus, King Magnus, good-by, good-by!"
--"Oh, good-by, good-by,--
You who eighteen summers me followed!"
SIN, DEATH
(FROM SIGURD SLEMBE)
(See Note 17)
Sin and Death, those sisters two,
Two, two,
Sat together while dawned the morning.
Sister, marry! Your house will do,
Do, do,
For me, too, was Death's warning.
Sin was wedded, and Death was pleased,
Pleased, pleased,
Danced about them the day they married;
Night came on, she the bridegroom seized,
Seized, seized,
And away with her carried.
Sin soon wakened alone to weep,
Weep, weep.
Death sat near in the dawn of morning:
Him you love, I love too and keep,
Keep, keep.
He is here, was Death's warning.
FRIDA
(See Note 18)
Frida, I knew that thy life-years were counted.
If but before thee a lifting thought mounted,
Upward thy gaze turned all wistful to view it,
As wouldst thou pursue it.
Eyes that so clear saw the wonderful vision
Looked far away beyond earth's indecision.
Snow-white unfolded the pinions that later
Bore thee to the greater.
Speaking or asking thou broughtest me sorrow;
Eyes thine and words thine seemed wanting to borrow
Clearness more pure and thoughts, victory gaining
Beyond my attaining.
When thou wert dancing in all a child's lightness,
Shaking thy locks like a fountain in brightness,
Laughing till heaven was opened in gladness
Over thy gladness,--
Or when affliction in sternness had spoken,
So that thy heart in that moment seemed broken,
Far from thy thoughts in thy suffering riven
Were both earth and heaven,--
Then, oh, I saw then: thy joy and thy grieving
Ever the bounds of the mortal were cleaving.
All seems so little where silent we ponder,--
But room they have yonder.
BERGEN
(See Note 19)
As thou sittest there
Skerry-bound and fair,
Mountains high around and ocean's deep before thee,
On thee casts her spell
_Saga_, that shall tell
Once again the wonders of our land.
Honor is thy due,
"Bergen never new,"
Ancient and unaging as thy Holberg's humor;
Once kings sought thine aid,--
Mighty now in trade,--
First to fly the flag of liberty.
Oft in proud array,
As a sunshine-day
Breaks forth from thy rain and fog wind-driven,
Thou didst come with men
Or great deeds again,
When the clouds were darkest o'er our land.
Thy soul was the ground,
Wit-enriched and sound,
Whence there sprang stout thoughts to make our country's harvest,
Whence our arts exist,
In their birth-hour kissed
By thy nature, somber, large, and strong.
In thy mountain-hall
Learned our painter, _Dahl_;
Wand'ring on thy strands our poet dreamed, _Welhaven_;
All thy morning's gold
_Ole Bull_ ensouled,
Greeted on thy bay by all the world.
With thy sea-wide sway
Thou hast might for aye,
Fjords of blue convey thy life-blood through our country.
Norway's spirit thou
Dost with joy endow,--
Great thy past, no less thy future great.
P. A. MUNCH
(1863)
(See Note 20)
Many forms belong to greatness.
He who now has left us bore it
As a doubt that made him sleepless,
But at last gave revelation,--
As a sight-enhancing power,
That gave visions joined with anguish
Over all beyond our seeing,--
As a flight on labor's pinions
From the thought unto the certain,
Thence aloft to intuition,--
Restless haste and changeful ardor,
God-inspired and unceasing,
Through the wide world ever storming,
Took its load of thoughts and doubtings,
Bore them, threw them off,--and took them,
Never tired, never listless.
Still! for he had one haven of rest:
Family-life peace-bestowing!
Powers of light gave repose to his breast,
Calm 'mid the strife of his knowing.
Softly with music his wife led him in
Unto the sweet-smelling birches!
Unto the flowers and still deeper in
Under the fir-forest's churches!
Daughters drew near him in love secure
Cooling his forehead's hot fever;
Gently their message of innocence pure
Made him a childlike believer.
Or he joined glad in their light-hearted game,
Colors and music surrounding,--
Gone were the clouds, in the heavens came
Sparkling of star-light abounding.
But as in an autumn evening
Silent, dreamy, dark, sheet-lightning
Wakens thought and feeling stormward,--
Or as in a boat a sudden
Stroke when gliding as in slumber
On between the cliffs that tower
In a quiet, balmy spring night,--
But a single stroke and soft, then
Echo takes it up and tosses
To and fro 'mid walls of mountains,
Thrush and grouse send forth their wood-calls
Deer rise up and listen keenly,
Stones are rolling, all are up now,
Dogs are barking, bells are clanging,
Ushering in the strife of daytime,--
Thus could oft a recollection
Down-light falling in that playtime,
Waken all his thought and doubting!
Then it roved the wide world over,
Then it hottest burned within him,--
But it lavished light for others!
Rise of races, spread of language,
Birth of names, all laws' close kinship,
Small and great in equal passion,
Equal haste and doubting goal-ward!--
There where others stones saw only,
He saw precious gems that glistened,
Sunk his shaft the mine to deepen.
And where others thought the treasure
Sure and safe for years a hundred,
Doubt possessed him as he burrowed
Day and night -- and saw it vanish!
But the unrest that gave power
Made him oft the goal pass over;
While to others he gave clearness,
Intuitions new deceived him.
Therefore: where he once had striven,
Thither he would turn him never,
Changed his ground and shifted labor,
From his own thought-conquests fleeing.
But his thoughts pursued, untiring,
Followed, growing, as the fire,
Kindled in Brazilian forests,
Storm-wind makes and storm-wind follows!
Where before no foot had trodden,
Ways were burned for many millions!
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