Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/128

 Our own cause bear to victory; And I will bear it, till the land Is all illumined where I stand! The people, your bureaucrat-crew Have lull'd asleep, shall wake anew; Too long you've cramp'd and caged apart These remnants of the Mountain heart; Out of your niggard hunger-cure They pass dejected, dull, demure: Their best, their bravest blood you tap, Scoop out their marrow and their sap, Pound into splinters every soul, That should have stood a welded whole;— But you may live to hear the roar Of revolution thunder: War!

War?

War!

Be sure, if you should call To arms, you'll be the first to fall.

The day will come when we shall know That triumph's height is Overthrow.

Consider, Brand, you have to choose! Don't stake your fortune on one card.

I do, however!