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

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

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227<br />

A chuckle from the priest, then, like a laughter<br />

that died away before it reached the lips;<br />

a hint on his fine mouth of scornful quips<br />

as he took up the argument thereafter:<br />

“O yes, this folk’s a double personage!<br />

A race of heroes when the toasts are ringing,<br />

when songs and speeches free the spirit’s winging<br />

and thought goes flying from its work-day cage.<br />

“It is a folk of memories that are peerless;<br />

it is a folk so mighty, once, and strong;<br />

it is a folk of men and women fearless —<br />

when the bard has been commissioned for a song.<br />

It is a folk so stout, so undismayed;<br />

it is a folk defies an eastward nation;<br />

it is a folk that southward stands arrayed —<br />

in speeches uttered at the celebration.<br />

“It is a folk where everyone’s so great<br />

that all the world can learn <strong>by</strong> emulation<br />

each noble trait deserving veneration, —<br />

as someone wrote once, truth’s own advocate.<br />

A folk convinced it’s no more than its due<br />

to lead the world from rock-bound isolation,<br />

that while the time’s soul flagged, its stature grew; —<br />

such is our folk — in its own estimation.<br />

“But when it’s time to dress for storms and hazards,<br />

to hush the talk for action truly brave,<br />

when it’s a case of wielding sword, not stave,<br />

of left thighs wearing only emptied scabbards —<br />

what is this folk — men, women it relies on?<br />

A folk that has a flaw for every strength;<br />

a folk that’s made itself so small at length<br />

it almost sinks beneath its own horizon.<br />

“The man then draws aside, the woman screeches;<br />

the ear’s then stopped to all demand, each call;<br />

we style ourselves the poor folk <strong>by</strong> the beaches,<br />

with, God be praised, God’s penny mark, that’s all.<br />

What’s our concern when mighty powers wrestle?<br />

What can it count for there, the hill-folk’s mite?<br />

Its task has been assigned it, wrong or right:<br />

to steer the plough-share and to sail its vessel.<br />

“For what can we do if the foe advances?<br />

It is for others to make sacrifice.<br />

It was for show, mere visionary fancies,<br />

that Norway’s flag was slashed with tongued device.<br />

No, Great-World-Power cheeks can do the glowing

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