The Man.
Of the scraps we got
Together, a few crumbs we've brought
Brand.
Though you give all, and life retain,
I tell you that your gift is vain.
The Man.
Had he to-day, who now lies dead,
By mortal peril been bested,
And I had heard his foundering cry,
I also would have dared to die.
Brand.
But peril of the <g>Soul</g> you slight?
The Man.
Well, we're but drudgers day by day.
Brand.
Then from the downward-streaming light
Turn your eyes utterly away;
And cease to cast the left askance
At heaven, while with the right you glance
Down at the mould where, crouching low,
Self-harness'd in the yoke you go.
The Man.
I thought you'd say we ought to shake us
Free of the yoke we toil in?
Brand.
Yea,
If you are able.
Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/75
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