“Skaal for Birger! skaal for the brave Lieutenant! skaal for the royal guard!” shouted one, waxing more bold as the night drew on.
“Gammle Norgé!” screamed back an opponent, and immediately Torkel burst out, with his fine bass voice, into the national song, drowning entirely poor Jacob’s melancholy ditty, which never got much beyond the wooing after all.
“The hardy Norseman’s house of yore
Was on the foaming wave,
And there he gathered bright renown—
The bravest of the brave.
O, ne’er should we forget our sires,
Wherever we may be;
For they did win a gallant name,
And ruled the stormy sea.