Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/149



And that dewdrop in thine eye, Has it fallen from the sky? No, ah! no, it is too warm, 'Tis thy heart's dew!

Agnes, wife, Let us bravely face the strife; Stand together, never flinch, Struggle onward, inch by inch. Oh, I felt a man out there! Surges o'er the reef were dashing; Horror of the storm-lit air Still'd the sea-gull; hail was thrashing Down upon the boiling sea. In my skiff, that mid-fjord quiver'd, Mast and tackle creak'd and shiver'd, Tatter'd sails blew far a-lee, Scarce a shred of them remaining, Every nail and stanchion straining! From the beetling summits sunder'd. Down the avalanches thunder'd; Stiff and stark, with corpse-like faces Sat the rowers in their places. Then the soul in me wax'd high; From the helm I ruled them all, Knowing well that One thereby Had baptized me to His call!

In the tempest to be strong, Eager in the stress of fight, That is easy, that is light; Think of me, who, all day long, Still must croon without relief