How brazen, hollow, and bombastic sound the
patriotic lyrics of Bjerregaard Johan Storm Munch, S. O. Wolff, etc.,
which are yet sung at festal gatherings, by the side of Bjoernson's "Yes,
we Love our Native Country," and "I will Guard Thee, my Land!" There is
the brassy blare of challenging trumpets in the former; they defy all
creation, and make a vast deal of impotent and unprofitable noise about
"The roaring northern main," "The ancient Norway's rocky fastness,"
"Liberty's temple in Norroway's valleys," and "Norway's lion, whose axe
doth threaten him who dares break the Northland's peace."
Not a suggestion of this juvenile braggadocio is there to be found in
Bjoernson. Calm, strong, and nobly aglow with love of country, he has no
need of going into paroxysms in order to prove his sincerity. To those
who regard the declamatory note as indispensable to a national hymn (as
we have it, for instance, in "Hail, Columbia," and "The Star-spangled
Banner") the low key in which Bjoernson's songs are pitched will no doubt
appear as a blemish.
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