Aftonbladet – 12 juli 1858, sida 3

Scandinavian Folk-Moot at Ramlösa. July 4, 1858. 1. Still Old Sweden, shining kemp-king, Rests him on his throne of steel, Mighty Memries — guard immortal — Marching round in mystic-wheel; From far fields where North-lights flitter Down to Scons verdant plain Bright his lakes and vallies glitter, Sounds his glory oer the main — Sounds and leaps on high and echoes back again. 2. Still Old Norway, shining kemp-king, Rests him on his throne of snow, Mighty Memries — guard immortal — Halberds lifting gainst the foe; From wild Cwen-lands scanty mosses Down to Mandals rocky shore Proud his sceptre-staff he tosses, Dreams of exploits as of yore — Dreams of deeds and greatness never heard before. . Still Old Iceland, shining kemp-king, Rests him on his throne of song, Mighty Memries — guard immortal — Waking Dwarf-notes !) loud and long; Wodens Rune-lore still he heareth, Listeneth still what Sagas say; Much from him each brother speireth, Northlands Bard for aye and aye — Northlands Priest and Patriarch in Eddie lay. Still Old Denmark, shining kemp-king, Rests hint on his throne of gold, Mighty Memries — guard immortal — Crowding from each sunny wold: Onward, on from Gefions Ploughing ?), Down to th Eider blinks his blade; Beech-woovds oer, and cornfields soughing ?), Rings the shout of Ryes Brigade ) — Rings the charge at Isted and at Frederits made. 5. Many a storm hath swept across them, These scarrd chieftains of of the North; Oft theyve stood in mutual battle, Purple sweat-streams welling forth; Ratatask 5), the wily Russian, Still sowd hate — that he might win; Nidhögg ), from his birth a Prussian, Sly and slimy gnaws within — Sly and sleek his feast with Slesvig. will begin. 6. Now these belts 7) flit banners nearer, Now their war-men friend-words fling; Lord and Lady, Burgher, Bonde, Mingle in one truefast ring. Erie! — Gustaf! — Carl! round pealeth, Olaf! — Hacon! swells the cry, Are by Nidl and Snorre kneeleth, Knut: — King Waldemar! rend the sky — Knut! — Nils Ebbeson! and Danskers victory. 7. Forward, brothers! Grow not weary, One Free Northland be your goal; In Nights silence, in Noons glister , Let this high thought fill your soul. Time and talent, gold and pleasure; Give them for your Fatherland; Freedom is Heavens costliest treasure, Honors home — the Northmans strand — Honors torch aye brightly flamd in Northern hand. Angul, that Old Western Wiking, He too rests on shining throne; Rolfs 9) like, is his speech half Latin, But Thors Hammer is his own. Many a hilsing, many a greeting, To his gallant kin he brings: .Northlands God, O bless their meeting! w !) Echoes. — ?) Sealand. — ?) Murmuring, rustling. — ) Olaf Rye (Norwegian), a General in the Danish service, the bravest of the brave and the idol of his soldiers, fell in the glorius victory at Frederits, July 6, 1849. Our fathers said, that fallen he roes went to Walhall; the Danish troopers had the proverb, that they went to join Ryes Brigade. — ) The mischief-making Squirrel in the branches, and ) the malignant worm (serpent) devouring the roots, of the mystic tree Yggdrasil. — 7) Heroes. — 5) Gange Rolf, the Norwegian founder of Normandy. —