Chorus.
My wings I open, my sails spread wide,
And cleave like an eagle life's glassy tide;
Gulls follow my furrow's foaming;
Overboard with the ballast of care and cark;
And what if I shatter my roaming bark,
It is passing sweet to be roaming!
Falk [starting from a reverie].
What, music? Ah, it will be Lind's quartette
Getting their jubilation up.—Well met!
[To Guldstad, who enters with an overcoat on his arm.
Ah, slipping off, sir?
Guldstad.
Yes, with your goodwill.
But let me first put on my overcoat.
We prose-folks are susceptible to chill;
The night wind takes us by the tuneless throat.
Good evening!
Falk.
Sir, a word ere you proceed!
Show me a task, a mighty one, you know—!
I'm going in for life—!
Guldstad [with ironical emphasis].
Well, in you go!
You'll find that you are in for it, indeed.
