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Forward
By Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson
(See Note 37)
"Forward! forward!"
Rang our fathers' battle-cry.
"Forward! forward!"
Norsemen, be our watchword high!
All that fires the spirit and makes the heart's faith bright,
For that we forward go with might
And faithful fight.
"Forward! forward!"
Whoso loves a home that's free.
"Forward! forward!"
Freedom's course must ever be.
Though it shall be tested by doubt and by defeat,
Who will the losses' count repeat
When vict'ries greet?
"Forward! forward!"
Whoso trusts in Norway's day.
"Forward! forward!"
Whoso goes our fathers' way.
Hid in Northern mountains are spirit-treasures true
They shall, when dawns the morning's blue,
Come forth anew.
Extra Info:
TRANSLATED FROM THE NORWEGIAN IN THE ORIGINAL METERS BY ARTHUR HUBBELL PALMER
Professor of the German Language and Literature In Yale University
Note 37.
FORWARD. The composer Grieg and his wife spent Christmas Eve, 1868,
with Björnson's family in Christiania. Grieg, who then gave to
Björnson a copy of the first part of his Lyriske Smaastykker, has
written the following account of the origin of this poem: "Among
these was one with the title 'Fatherland's Song.' I played this for
Björnson, who liked it so well that he said he wanted to write words
for it. That made me glad, although afterwards I said to myself: It
probably will remain a want, he has other things to think of. But
the very next day I met him in full creative joy: 'It's going
excellently. It shall be a song for all the youth of Norway. But
there is something at the beginning that I haven't yet got hold of
- a certain wording. I feel that the melody demands it, and I
shall not give it up. It must come.' Then we parted. The next
forenoon, as I was giving a piano lesson to a young lady, I heard a
ring at the entry-door, as if the whole bell apparatus would rattle
down; then a noise as of wild hordes breaking in and a roar;
'Forward! Forward! Now I have it! Forward!' My pupil trembled like
an aspen leaf. My wife in the next room was frightened out of her
wits. But when the door flew open and Björnson stood there,
glad and shining like a sun, there was a general jubilee, and we
were the first to hear the beautiful new poem."
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