Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/26



A priest.

Maybe; but one thing's clear at least; Though you were dean and bishop too Death will have laid his grip on you Ere daybreak, if you dare to breast The glacier's cavern-cloven crest.

[Approaching warily and insinuatingly.]

Hark, priest, the wisest, learned'st man Cannot do more than what he can. Turn back; don't be so stiff and stout! A man has but a single life;— What has he left if that goes out? The nearest farm is two leagues off, And for the fog, it's thick enough To hack at with a hunting-knife.

If the fog's thick, no glimmering ray Of marsh-light lures our feet astray.

All round lie ice-tarns in a ring, And an ice-tarn's an ugly thing.

We'll walk across.

On waves you'll walk! Your deeds will hardly match your talk.

Yet one has proved,—whose faith is sound May walk dry-footed on the sea.