Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/102

 That, when the leafy spring is near, The brimming avalanche vaults sheer Over our heads, and we lie clear As in the hollow of a fall.

The sun we never see at all.

Oh, yet he dances warm and bright Atop yon mountain that we face.

For three weeks, true,—at summer's height,— But never struggles to its base!

[Looks fixedly at him, rises and says.]

Brand, there's one thought at which you shrink.

No, you!

No, you!

Within you bear A secret terror.

Which you share!

You reel as from a dizzy brink! Out with it! speak it out!

'Tis true I've trembled, whiles     [Hesitates