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

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a cloudy torpor that frustrates ambition,
a droning hush that stifles dream-invention.
Who are you, shadows? And where dwell you then?
Hafsfjord’s descendants! Rise, time-present’s men!
Fight Harald’s cause! The dead would walk again!
Yes, Roald, Sote, Tore are still lurking
to play their midnight ghoul- or spectre-role; —
and Rollaud stirs himself; Herlaug’s still working,
that ancient moldwarp, in his burrowed hole.
Such are the foxes round the parish creeping,
that bear the muster-staff now here, now there;
such are the visitants to peasants sleeping
who urge that secret strife should once more flare. —
Rise, daytime’s warrior, slay night’s murky faction.
Defend the dream-tree in a ring of trust!
King Harald claims a monument of action; —
one that today shall soar aloft, august, —
one that in Norway’s soil we’ll gladly thrust
to pierce his foes, the forces of reaction.
For life is our cause, death their chosen bourn; —
theirs is King Kjøtve’s goal, ours, blushing dawn.
Survey the world! There Hafsfjord’s day has broken
o’er all the earth’s high places, clear, wide-woken.
The sun that blazed on Solferino’s plain,
the sun that coloured Lissa’s deep blue waters, —
that bronzed the Porta Pia’s blood-red stain
and chased the papal snake to cellar quarters, —
the sun that slumbered on Sadowa’s walls
was Hafsfjord’s sun on our new enterprise;
it was the sun that shone for those that ventured
when statehood was mid barren holms indentured,
that turned to flint the self-same trollish thralls
and steamed the venom from the self-same lies.
Mark where you stand, today’s Norwegian brother!
Heed time’s intent; your pact’s with that alone.
Today lays but one poor foundation-stone
to mightier pillars for our strength, no other.
Observe time’s law! It may not be denied.
Cavour and Bismarck wrote it as our guide, —
and many a ghost he quelled, no spectre-sparer,
that hero and that dreamer of Caprera.
Yes, through the ages runs King Harald’s vision,
and Hafsfjord’s fight is fought this very day;
for clash of concepts fuels our division,
King Harald’s concept of one sovereign sway
fronts petty concepts flaunting disarray.
If you, my folk, desert reunion’s host,
then fell the column on your chieftain’s grave!