Chapter IV

They say: "As by rings of betrothal
We are by the flag affied!"
But Norway is _not_ betrothèd,
She _is_ no one's promised bride.
She shares her abode with no one,
Her bed and her board to none yields,
Her will is her worthy bridegroom,
Herself rules her sea, her fields.
Our brother to eastward honors
This independence of youth.
_He_ knows well that by it only
Our wreath can be won in truth.
When we from the flag are taking
His colors, _he_ knows 't is no whim,
But merely because we are holding
Our honor higher than him.
And none who himself has honor
Will seek him a different friend;
Our life we can for him offer,
But naught of our flag can lend.