Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/271



[Rises, quiet and deadly pale.]  One that's remembered,—and one that's forgot. One that has squandered,—and one that has saved.— Oh, earnest!—and never can the game be played o'er! Oh, dread! —here was my Kaiserdom! [Hurries off-along the wood path.  SCENE SIXTH. ''Night. A heath, with fir-trees. A forest fire has been raging; charred tree-trunks are seen stretching for miles. White mists here and there clinging to the earth.''

 comes running over the heath.

Ashes, fog-scuds, dust wind-driven,— Here's enough for building with! Stench and rottenness within it; All a whited sepulchre. Figments, dreams, and still-born knowledge Lay the pyramid's foundation; O'er them shall the work mount upwards, With its step on step of falsehood. Earnest shunned, repentance dreaded, Flaunt at the apex like a scutcheon, Fill the trump of judgment with their. "Petrus Gyntus Cæsar fecit!" [Listens. What is this, like children's weeping? Weeping, but half-way to song.—