Ole Gabriel Ueland

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 wagèd 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.