Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/283



Tenfold vaster at his fall Grew the tent of Heaven above! See him tumble; see him sprawl—! Ah, I will not shudder more; He is white, see, as a dove—!

[Shrieks in terror.]

Hu, the horrible thunder-roar!

[Throws herself down in the snow.

[''Crouches under the descending avalanche, and, looking up, speaks.'']

God, I plunge into death's night,— Shall they wholly miss thy Light Who unto man's utmost might Will'd—?

[''The avalanche buries him; the whole valley is swallowed up.''

[Calls through the crashing thunder.]

He is the God of Love.

THE END.

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