Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/314



I once heard a tale of a child blind from birth, Whose childhood was full of joy and mirth; For the mother, with spells of magic might, Wove for the dark eyes a world of light. And the child looked forth with wonder and glee Upon valley and hill, upon land and sea. Then suddenly the witchcraft failed— The child once more was in darkness pent; Good-bye to games and merriment; With longing vain the red cheeks paled. And its wail of woe, as it pined away, Was ceaseless, and sadder than words can say.— Oh! like that child's my eyes were sealed, To the light and the life of summer blind—

But —! And I in this cage confined! No, now is the worth of my youth revealed! Three years of life I on him have spent— My husband—but were I longer content This hapless, hopeless weird to dree, Meek as a dove I needs must be. I am wearied to death of petty brawls; The stirring life of the great world calls. I will follow Gudmund with shield and bow, I will share his joys, I will soothe his woe, Watch o'er him both by night and day. All that behold shall envy the life Of the valiant knight and Margit his wife.— His wife!

Oh God, what is this I say! Forgive me, forgive me, and oh! let me feel The peace that hath power both to soothe and to heal.