Poems and Songs Part 9

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 l.u.s.ter Your spirit has filled, are pearls that cl.u.s.ter With beauty blest On my happy breast, And softly s.h.i.+ning 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d aid thee here, our earl, G.o.d 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 G.o.d aid thee here, our earl, G.o.d 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 G.o.d aid thee here, our earl, G.o.d 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 s.h.i.+p 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!

s.p.a.ce 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)