THE COLLECTED POEMS OF HENRIK IBSEN Translated by John ...

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Through the brave, bald reach we go faring,
We speed o’er the rolling blue;
He watches our smoke, sits staring
As long as we stay in view.
We fly with flags flaunting out yonder,
We sing like the birds that fly;
He settles again to ponder:
Some big affair just passed by.
We head for the lamps and flowers,
Bright festivals up the coast;
No company charms his hours
Save gravity’s silent host.
Don’t fret that he may have neglected
Church-going, you kept him so long;
He’s sure to have gained some reflected
Light from our meeting, our song. —
See, thus shall we youngsters, we brothers,
Life’s voyagers, rich and so gay,
Rouse and bear witness to others
Land-wide, in each creek and bay.
There isn’t a nook won’t be ringing
With echoes of sorts, though weak.
It’s we who are birds blithely singing
With seed-corn in claw and beak.
Wherever wings may be flourished,
Ridge-high or low down o’er the firth,
A seed from the flock is nourished,
Wind-blown to a pining earth.
Sawny — my attempt to represent Ibsen’s faintly derogatory term for a yokel living on the
coast north of Bergen.
THE STUDENT UNION’S FIFTIETH
ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION
2 nd October 1863
Mel. Hur lange skall i Norden.
Our Union has its saga
Like most of Norway’s breed:
Brought up in stark privation,
Its daily guest, harsh need; —
It strove as strive all Norsemen
For life the live-long day, —
Self-help its battle harness,