Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 32, Pages 236-237
V.
ANCIENT NORWEGIAN WAR-SONG.
Arise! old Norway sends the word
Of battle on the blast!
Her voice the forest pines hath stirr'd,
As if a storm went past;
Her thousand hills the call have heard,
And forth their fire-flags cast.
Arm, arm! free hunters, for the chase,
The kingly chase of foes!
'Tis not the bear, or wild wolf's race,
Whose trampling shakes the snows!
Arm, arm! 'tis on a nobler trace
The Northern spearman goes.
Our hills have dark and strong defiles,
With many an icy bed;
Heap there the rocks for funeral piles
Above th' invader's head!
Or let the seas that guard our isles,
Give burial to his dead!
