Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/94

 Over their sickly babes asleep.— Why did my soul in flesh take breath, If love of flesh is the soul's death?— Stay near me, priest!—I am not clear How I shall feel when death is near. "Naked into the grave descend,"— I'll wait, at least, until the end. [Goes.

[Gazing after her.]

Yes, thy son shall still be near, Call to him, and he shall hear. Stretch thy hand, and, cold and perish'd, At his heart it shall be cherish'd.

[Goes down to Agnes.]

As the Morn not so the Night. Then my soul was set on fight, Then I heard the war-drum rattle, Yearn'd the sword of Wrath to swing, Lies to trample, Trolls to fling, Fill the world with clashing battle.

[Has turned round to him, and looks radiantly up.]

By the Night the Morn was pale. Then I sought the joys that fail; Sought to triumph by attaining What in losing I am gaining.

Visions stirring, visions splendid Like a flock of swans descended, On their spreading wings upbore me, And I saw my way before me;— Sin-subduer of the Age