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

233
The captain rose, — an old man, white as snow; —
began to speak, choked on his words completely — —
then spat and pointed, saying merely ‘Go!’
“And go he did. The people formed a lane
for him to slip away, made no objection; —
red as his bleeding finger’s crimson stain
the blood-red blush now of his cheek’s complexion.
He left the farm, made off towards the height;
They watched his progress from the yard and chattered;
he climbed and climbed till he was out of sight; —
he was at home there, where the mountains scattered.
“I’ve thought about that lad since, many a day; —
most often May the seventeenth, with meetings
in market square to march, in full array,
to bear our liberator’s statue greetings.
I first attended in a student gang;
with eager youngsters, playfully carousing;
I felt a sort of infinite arousing
as that great flood of people marched and sang.
“The broad street was too narrow for parading.
Each vantage point was crammed, no window free;
fair ladies smiled upon us graciously;
a flash of ribbon here, there flowers cascading.
The cannon thundered; brandished flags were thrumming,
and dust, as from a battlefield, rose forth,
the national anthem sounded, lads were drumming,
and hearts bore witness: ‘Why it’s grand, our North!’
“Around the monument our hordes collected,
our country’s budding hope, the future’s pledge.
All still, now; word that someone was expected.
And then a man ascends the statue’s ledge.
There came a surge of clapping and of cheering,
shrill trumpets and ‘hurrahs’ that followed hard;
‘He’s there!’ rang through the flock then; we were hearing
the folk’s collective greeting to its bard.
“For this man was the people’s favourite poet.
Broad-shouldered, hatless, blond and big of bone
he stood up by the lion, gripped the stone
and fed the crowd the sight that great men owe it.
And when he’d reaped the crop of approbation
that cheers, repeated plaudits wide disperse,
he took a breath, gave voice, and his oration
proceeded first in prose and then in verse.
“He spoke first of the new dawn’s revelation
at Eidsvoll’s grove, when thraldom’s night was done;