Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/266

 None, like him, arose, and gave The grave's debt unto the grave; None among them wise to know: "Dreaming cannot kindle dust, Down into the earth it must, Dust is only made to breed Nurture for the new-sown seed." Night, black night,—and night again Over children, women, men! O could I with levin-flame Save them from the straw-death's shame!

[Leaps up.]

Gloomy visions I see sweep Like the Wild Hunt through the night. Lo, the Time is Tempest-dight, Calls for heroes, death to dare, Calls for naked steel to leap, And for scabbards to hang bare;— Kinsfolk, lo, to battle riding, While their gentle brothers, hiding, From the hat of darkness peep. And yet more I do divine— All the horror of their shame,— Men that shriek and wives that whine, Deaf to every cry and claim, See them on their brows imprinting "Poor folks sea-bound" for their name, "Humble farthings of God's minting!" Pale they listen to the fray,— Willing-weakness for their shield.— Rainbow o'er the mead of May, Flag, where fliest thou now afield? Where's that tricolor to-day,— Which the wind of myriad song, Beat and bellied from the mast Till a zealot king at last