Courage is failing, Hoar frost assailing Boughs of your longing surrounds with its spell. But I dare enter, Break to the center, Where in dream-fetters you dwell. SONG FOR THE STUDENTS' GLEE CLUB (See Note 29) Now, brothers, sing out our song, Whose train of light shall follow long! With love are its measures beating And victory's joyous greeting, While round about it flower-seeds In will of youth shall grow to deeds! Our song has gone far and. wide, Bright mem'ries on our way abide, In flags flying, friends that love us, In wreaths from fair hands above us, In feasts where youth's full spirits stream, Our nation's past, our nation's dream. At _Hald_ on a sunny day That shot-torn flag of many a fray Was waving above our singing, Soul-fire to our music bringing, The ardor of that glorious band, Who died as heroes for our land. To _Arendal_ our summer-way "For might and fame!"--remember aye! The fleet on the bay was riding, Our singer-ship through it gliding. Our merchant-ships shall rule the wave! This joyous hoisting-song we gave. We gathered in _Bergen_ town Of ancient and of new renown. The horns of our fathers greet us, King Sverre comes forth to meet us; But fresh and full the present spoke In heartfelt song from all its folk. _Upsala, Copenhagen, Lund,_ In each our song its garland won, Fair fetters of music winding, Harmonious the Northland binding; Our mighty choral theme shall be _The Northern races' unity._ With courage, then, onward roam! Where echo answers is our home. Our past that we sing draws nearer, Our future in song grows clearer, E'en while we wander hand in hand And summer sing into our land. + MRS. LOUISE BRUN (JANUARY 30, 1866) (See Note 30) CHORUS _(Behind the scenes)_ Farewell, farewell, From friends, from all, from fatherland! Your soul's calm power is from us riven, Your words, your song, to spirit's praise In art's glad temple given. CHORUS OF MEN We thank you that with youthful fire You came the doubting to inspire, Who anxious stood with strength untried! CHORUS OF WOMEN We thank you that in morning-dawn Your woman's tact and aid were drawn Our boisterous youthful art to guide! ALL Thanks for the spring of your life's year, Thanks for the tones so sweet and clear, Thanks for the tints of pearly hue, That colored all you touched anew. For all your noble life on earth, Thanks, thanks! And that you gave our calling worth, Thanks, thanks! EPILOGUE 'T is but a short time since we saw pass by A picture drawn from life, austere and dark, A soul in servitude to strong desires; And all its life in prison-labor spent. Although religion prays and sings its hymns, And poetry and art their sunshine spread, That soul in slavery toils, till white the hair.