Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/133



[Comes out on to the steps: pale and terrified she whispers to the .]  In! Follow me! You raise my fears! What is it, child? Into my breast Creeps cold a serpent of affright! What is it? [Pulling him away.]             Come!—Great God of Might. [They go into the house; does not notice.

[To himself.]

Impenitent alive,—and dead! This is the finger of the Lord! Now through my means shall be restored The treasure she has forfeited; Else tenfold woe upon my head!

[Rises.]

Henceforth as by my sonship bound, Unflinching, on my native ground I'll battle, a soldier of the Cross, For Spirit's gain by Body's loss. Me with His purging fire the Lord Hath arm'd, and with His riving Word: Mine is that Will and that strong Trust That crumbles mountains into dust!