Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/31



[Sitting and rubbing his arm.]

Ow, ow; his arm's an iron rod; And that's what he calls serving God

[Calling as he gets up.]

Ho, priest!

He's gone athwart the hill.

Ay, but I see him glimmer still.

[Calling again.]

Hear me,—if you remember, say, Where was it that we lost the way?

[In the mist.]

You need no cross to point you right;— The broad and beaten track you tread.

God grant it were but as he said, And I'd sit snug at home to-night.

[He and his Son retire eastwards.

[Reappears higher up, and listens in the direction in which the went.]

Homeward they grovel! Thou dull thrall, If but thy feeble flesh were all, If any spark of living will Sprang in thee, I had help'd thee still. With breaking back, and feet way-worn, Lightly and swift I had thee borne;—