Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/245

 Here I will be priest no more. I revoke my gift;—from me No man shall receive the key Of the yet unopen'd door!

[Throws the keys into the river.]

Wilt thou in, thou slave of clay,— Through the crypt-hole worm thy way; Lithe thy back is, creep and ply; From that charnel let thy sigh Roam the earth with venom'd breath, Like the flagging gasp of death!

[Aside with relief.]

Ha, his hope of knighthood's dim!

[Similarly.]

Well; no bishopric for him!

Come thou, young man—fresh and free— Let a life-breeze lighten thee From this dim vault's clinging dust. Conquer with me! For thou must One day waken, one day rise, Nobly break with compromise;— Up, and fly the evil days, Fly the maze of middle ways, Strike the foeman full and fair, Battle to the death declare!

Hold! I'll read the Riot Act!