Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/56



Yonder is danger; go not near it!

[Pointing down.]

Yonder is foulness; thou must fear it!

God's peace with you!

Nay, this way pass! Yonder the cataract's singing Mass; There on the crags the whistling weather Preaches you hot and cold together. Thither the hawk will ne'er steal in; Down, down he sweeps from Svartetind,— Yonder he sits, the ugly block, Like my church-steeple's weathercock.

Wild is thy way, and wild thy soul,— A cittern with a shatter'd bowl. Of dulness dulness is the brood,— But evil's lightly won to good.

With whirring wings I hear him come! I'll e'en make shift to get me home! In yonder church I'm safe,—farewell; He's on me,—hoo, how fierce and fell!

[She screams.]

I'll throw a stone! No nearer, now. If thou hast talons, I've a bough!

[She runs off up the mountain.