Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/311

 For mark this well: it hath ever been found That those who in caverns deep lie bound Are lightly freed by the harp's glad sound. He saw her prisoned, he heard her wail— But he cast unheeding his harp aside, Hoisted straightway his silken sail, And sped away o'er the waters wide To stranger strands with his new-found bride.

So fair was thy touch on the golden strings That my breast heaves high and my spirit sings! I must out, I must out to the sweet green leas! I die in the Hill-King's fastnesses! He mocks at my woe as he clasps his bride And sails away o'er the waters wide!

With me all is over; my hill-prison barred; Unsunned is the day, and the night all unstarred.

[Weeping, has rushed up to her, and takes her in her arms.] Margit! My sister!

[At the same time, supporting her.] Help! Help! she is dying!