I honor you, God-thirsting soul so driven,
'Mid scorn and need the spirit's war to wage;
I honor you, by Gudbrand's valley given,
And of her sons the foremost in this age.
I do not share your faith, your daring dreaming;
This parts us not, the spirit's paths are broad.
For, all things great and noble round us streaming,
I worship them, because I worship God.
POST FESTUM
(See Note 68)
A man in coat of ice arrayed
Stood up once by the Arctic Ocean;
The whole earth shook with proud emotion
And honor to the giant paid.
A king came, to him climbing up,
An Order in his one hand bearing:
"Who great become, this sign are wearing."
--The growling giant said but "Stop!"
The frightened king fell down again,
Began to weep with features ashen:
"My Order is in this rude fashion
Refused by just the greatest men.
"My dear man, take it, 't is but fit,
Of your king's honor be the warder;
On your breast greater grows the Order,
And we who bear it, too, by it."--
The Arctic giant was too good,--
A foible oft ascribed to giants,
Who foolish trust in little clients,--
He took it,--while we mocking stood.
But all the kings crept to him then,
And each his Order brought, to know it
Thereby renewed and greater, so it
Gave rank to needy noblemen.
_Honi soit_ ... and all the rest;
Soon Orders covered all his breast.
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