Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/32

 But help is idle for the man Who nothing wills but what he can.

[Goes further on.]

Ah life! ah life! Why art thou then So passing sweet to mortal men? In every weakling's estimation His own life does as grossly weigh As if the load of man's salvation Upon his puny shoulders lay. For every burden he's prepared, God help us,—so his life be spared!

[Smiles as in recollection.]

Two thoughts in boyhood broke upon me, And spasms of laughter in me woke, And from our ancient school-dame won me Many a just and bitter stroke. An Owl I fancied, scared by night; A Fish that had the water-fright; I sought to banish them;—in vain, They clung like leeches to my brain. Whence rose that laughter in my mind? Ah, from the gulf, dimly divined, Between the living world we see And the world as it ought to be, Between enduring what we must, And murmuring, it is unjust! Ah, whole or sickly, great or small, Such owls, such fishes, are we all. Born to be tenants of the deep, Born to be exiles from the sun, This, even this, does us appal; We dash against the beetling steep, Our starry-vaulted home we shun, And crying to heaven, bootless pray For air and the glad flames of day!

[Pauses a moment, starts, and listens.]