As thou sittest there
 Skerry-bound and fair,
Mountains high around and ocean's deep before thee,
 On thee casts her spell
  Saga , that shall tell
Once again the wonders of our land.

 Honor is thy due,
 “Bergen never new,”
Ancient and unaging as thy Holberg's humor;
 Once kings sought thine aid,—
 Mighty now in trade,—
First to fly the flag of liberty.

 Oft in proud array,
 As a sunshine-day
Breaks forth from thy rain and fog wind-driven,
 Thou didst come with men
 Or great deeds again,
When the clouds were darkest o'er our land.

 Thy soul was the ground,
 Wit-enriched and sound,
Whence there sprang stout thoughts to make our country's harvest,
 Whence our arts exist,
 In their birth-hour kissed
By thy nature, somber, large, and strong.

 In thy mountain-hall
 Learned our painter, Dahl;
Wand'ring on thy strands our poet dreamed, Wel-haven;
 All thy morning's gold
  Ole Bull ensouled,
Greeted on thy bay by all the world.

 With thy sea-wide sway
 Thou hast might for aye,
Fjords of blue convey thy life-blood through our country.
 Norway's spirit thou
 Dost with joy endow,—
Great thy past, no less thy future great.