Old Heltberg Poem Rhyme Scheme

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I went to a school that was little and proper	A
Both for church and for state a conventional hopper	A
Feeding rollers that ground out their grist unwaiting	B
And though it was clear from the gears' frequent grating	B
They rarely with oil of the spirit were smeared	C
Yet no other school in that region appeared	C
We	-
had	D
to go there till older though sorry	-
I went there also but reveled in Snorre	-
	-
The self same books the same so called education	E
That teacher after teacher by decrees of power royal	F
Into class after class pounds with self negation	E
And that only bring promotion to them that are loyal	F
The self same books the same so called education	E
Quickly molding to one type all the men in the land	G
An excellent fellow who on	H
one	E
leg can stand	G
And as runs an anchor rope reel off his rote narration	E
The self same books the same so called education	E
From Hammerfest to Mandal 'tis the state's creation	E
Of an everything and every one conserving dominion	E
Wherein all the finer folk have but one opinion	E
The self same books the same so called education	E
My comrades devoured but my appetite failed me	-
And that fare I refused till to cure what had ailed me	-
Home leaving I leaped o'er those bars of vexation	E
What I met on the journey what I thought in each case	I
What arose in my soul in the new chosen place	I
Where the future was lying this to tell is refractory	-
But I'll give you a picture of the 'student factory '	-
	-
Full bearded fellows of thirty near died of	J
Their hunger for lore as they slaved by the side of	J
Rejected aspirants with faces hairless	K
Like sparrows in spring scatter brained and careless	K
Vigorous seamen whose adventurous mind	L
First drove them from school that real life they might find	L
But now to cruise wide on the sea they were craving	B
Where the flag of free thought o'er all life wide is waving	B
Bankrupted merchants who their books had wooed	M
In their silent stores till their creditors sued	M
And took from them their goods Now they studied 'on credit '	-
Beside them dawdling dandies Near in scorn have I said it	N
'Non Latin' law students young and ambitious	K
'Prelims ' theologs with their preaching officious	K
Cadets that in arm or in leg had a hurt	O
Peasants late in learning but now in for a spurt	O
	-
Here	-
they all wished through their Latin to drive	P
In	E
one	E
year or in two not in eight or in five	P
They hung over benches 'gainst the walls they were lying	B
In each window sat two one the edge was just trying	B
Of his new sharpened knife on an ink spattered desk	B
Through two large open rooms what a spectacle grotesque	B
	-
At one end half in dreams Aasmund Olavsen Vinje's	K
Long figure and spare a contemplative genius	K
Thin and intense with the color of gypsum	Q
And a coal black preposterous beard Henrik Ibsen	E
I the youngest of the lot had to wait for company	-
Till a new litter came in after Yule Jonas Lie	R
	-
But the 'boss' who ruled there with his logical rod	S
'Old Heltberg' himself was of all the most odd	S
In his jacket of dog's skin and fur boots stout	T
He waged a hard war with his asthma and gout	T
No fur cap could hide from us his forehead imperious	K
His classical features his eye's power mysterious	K
Now erect in his might and now bowed by his pain	E
Strong thoughts he threw out and he threw not in vain	E
If the suffering grew keener and again it was faced	U
By the will in his soul and his body he braced	U
Against onset after onset then his eyes were flaming	B
And his hands were clenched hard as if deep were his shaming	B
That he seemed to have yielded Oh then we were sharing	B
Amazed all the grandeur of conflict and bearing	B
Home with us a symbol of the storms of that age	V
When 'Wergeland's wild hunt' o'er our country could rage	V
There was power in the men who took part in that play	W
There was will in the power that then broke its way	W
Now alone he was left forgotten in his corner	-
But in deeds was a hero let none dare to be his scorner	-
He freed thought from the fetters that the schools inherit	X
Independent in teaching he led by the spirit	X
Personality unique for with manner anarchic	B
He carved up the text and absolute monarchic	B
Was his wrath at mistakes but soon it subsided	Y
Or controlled into noblest pathos was guided	Z
Which oft turned in recoil into self irony	-
And a downpour of wit letting no one go free	-
So he governed his 'horde ' so we went through the country	-
The fair land of the classics that we harried with effront'ry	-
How Cicero Sallust and Virgil stood in fear	-
On the forum in the temple when we ravaging drew near	-
'T was again the Goths' invasion to the ruin of Rome	A2
It was Thor's and Odin's spirit over Jupiter's home	A2
And the old man's 'grammar' was a dwarf forged hammer	-
When he swung it and smote with sparks flames and clamor	-
The herd of 'barbarians' he thus headed on their way	W
Had no purpose to settle and just there to stay	W
'Non Latins' they remained by no alien thought enslaved	B2
And found their true selves as the foreign foes they braved	B2
	-
In conquering the language we learned the laws of thought	C2
And following him his fine longing we caught	D2
For wanderings and wonders all the conqueror's zeal	E2
To win unknown lands and their mysteries reveal	E2
Each lesson seemed a vision that henceforth was ours	K
Inspiring each youth's individual powers	K
His pictures made pregnant our creative desire	-
His wit was our testing in an ordeal of fire	-
His wisdom was our balance to weigh things great and small	F2
His pathos told of passions burning but held in thrall	F2
	-
Oft the stricken hero scarce his tedious toil could brook	B
He wished to go and write though it were but a single book	B
To show a	G2
little	F
what he was and show it to the world	H2
He loosed his cable daily but ne'er his sails unfurled	H2
	-
His 'grammar' was not printed And he passed from mortal ken	E
To where the laws of thought are not written with a pen	E
His 'grammar' was not printed But the life that it had	D
In ink's prolonging power did not need to be clad	D
It lived in his soul so mighty so warm	I2
That a thousand books' life seems but poor empty form	I2
It lives in a host of independent men	E
To whose thought he gave life and who give it again	E
In the school at the bar in the church and Storting's hall	F2
In poetry and art whose deeds and lifework all	F2
Have proved to be the freer and the broader in their might	J2
Because Heltberg had given their youth higher flight	J2

Bjarnstjerne Bjarnson

Old Heltberg Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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