Ole Gabriel Ueland

(See Note 46)     Of long toil 't is a matter      Through many a silent age,     Before such power can shatter      Time-hallowed custom's cage.     The soul-fruit of the peasant,      Though seldom seed was sown,     It is our honor present, -      Our future sure foreknown.     The fjords that earnest waited      'Mid mountain-snows around     His childhood's thoughts created      And depth of life profound.     The highlands' sun that played there      On fjord and mountain snow     So wide a vision made there      As one could wish to know.     When he to Ting repairing      Would plead the peasant's right,     Each word a beam was bearing.      To make our young day bright.     It came like ancient story      Or long-lost song's refrain;     What crowned our past with glory      It made our present gain.     Though in his boat a seaman,      A farmer in his field,     Ne'er finer thoughts did freeman      In royal council wield.     His years bear witness ready      That we shall yet achieve     Our people's self-rule steady,      He taught us to believe.     When weary, worn, and aged,      His faith was ever strong;     The people's war he wagd      For victory erelong.     Beneath the banner dying,      He would not yet give o'er,     And him Valkyries flying      Home to Valhalla bore.     From wintry night and bitter      He was with stately tread     In Saga's hall a-glitter      Before the high-sear led.     Old heroes proud or merry      Rising to greet him went,     But first of all King Sverre,      From whom was his descent.