Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/498



O, I divine thee! But—to sever thus! Now, when the portals of the world stand wide,— When the blue spring is bending over us, On the same day that plighted thee my bride!

Just therefore must we part. Our joy's torch fire Will from this moment wane till it expire! And when at last our worldly days are spent, And face to face with our great Judge we stand, And, as a righteous God, he shall demand Of us the earthly treasure that he lent— Then, Falk, we cry—past power of Grace to save— "O Lord, we lost it going to the grave!"

[with strong resolve].

Pluck off the ring!

[with fire].

Wilt thou?

Now I divine! Thus and no otherwise canst thou be mine! As the grave opens into life's Dawn-fire, So Love with Life may not espoused be Till, loosed from longing and from wild desire, It soars into the heaven of memory! Pluck off the ring, Svanhild!