Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/240

 By a feat of compromise. Small the Church was; logic thence Palter'd to the inference: Twice the size—that cannot fail; Fivefold,—that must needs prevail! O, I saw not that the call Was for Nothing or else All. Down that easy way I reel'd, But to-day the Lord has spoken, In this very hour has peal'd Overhead the awful blast Of His Judgment-trump at last,— And I listen'd, in the wind Of my anguish, baffled, broken,— Even as David, having sinn'd—; Now all hesitation dies. Men! The Devil is compromise!

[With growing excitement.]

Down with them that quench'd our light Sapp'd the marrow of our might!

In your souls the demon dwells That has bound you with his spells. You have put your powers at mart, You have cleft yourselves in twain; Discord therefore numbs your brain, Petrifies your hollow heart. To the Church to-day what drew you? But the show, the show—nought else!— Roll of organ, clash of bells,— And to feel the tingle through you Of a speaking-furnace dart,