Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/253

 And he that shudders at the cost, Ere he is wounded, he is lost.

He insolently bids us die To serve unborn posterity!

Through thorny steeps of sacrifice, The way unto our Canaan lies. Triumph through death! I call you all, As Champions of God to fall!

Well, we are in a pretty plight! No mercy to expect below

Nay, we have bade the dale good-night.

And forward, forward, who will go?

To death with him!

'Twere pity, so! We want a general, you know!

[Pointing in terror downwards.]

The Dean! The Dean!

[To the throng.]

Nay, never fear!