|
|
Landfall
By Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson
(See Note 52)
And that was Olaf Trygvason,
Going o'er the North Sea grim,
Straight for his home and kingdom steering,
Where none awaited him.
Now the first mountains tower;
Are they walls, on the ocean that lower?
And that was Olaf Trygvason,
Fast the land seemed locked at first,
All of his youthful, kingly longings
Doomed on the cliffs to burst, -
Until a skald discovered
Shining domes in the cloud-mists, that hovered.
And that was Olaf Trygvason,
Seemed to see before his eyes
Mottled and gray some timeless temple
Lifting white domes to the skies.
Sorely he longed to win it,
Stand and hallow his young faith within it.
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 52.
LANDFALL. Written in 1872 for a musical festival in Trondhjem, the
profits of which were given to aid in the restoration of the
Cathedral there.
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 189 times.
|
|
