Chapter 11

The Man.

The scourge you send her I will layAs gently on her as I may.She has this comfort left her, too:God is not quite so hard as you![Goes.

The scourge you send her I will lay

As gently on her as I may.

She has this comfort left her, too:

God is not quite so hard as you!

[Goes.

Brand.

Yes, with that comfort’s carrion-breathThe world still sickens unto death;Prompt, in its need, with shriek and songTo lubricate the Judge’s tongue.Of course! The reasonable plan!For from of old they know their man;—Since all his works the assurance breathe:“Yon gray-beard may be haggled with!”

Yes, with that comfort’s carrion-breath

The world still sickens unto death;

Prompt, in its need, with shriek and song

To lubricate the Judge’s tongue.

Of course! The reasonable plan!

For from of old they know their man;—

Since all his works the assurance breathe:

“Yon gray-beard may be haggled with!”

[The Manhas met another man on the road; they come back together.

Brand.

A second message!

First Man.

Yes.

Brand.[To theSecond Man.]

Brand.

[To theSecond Man.]

Consent!

Second Man.

Nine-tenths of it is now the word.

Brand.

Notall?

Second Man.

Not all.

Brand.

As you have heard:—Nor priest shall come, nor sacrament.

As you have heard:—

Nor priest shall come, nor sacrament.

Second Man.

She begg’d it, bitterly distress’d——

First Man.

Priest, once she bore you on her breast.

Brand.[Clenching his hands.]

Brand.

[Clenching his hands.]

I may not by two measures weighMy kinsman and my enemy.

I may not by two measures weigh

My kinsman and my enemy.

Second Man.

Sore is her state and dire her need;Come, or else send her aGod-speed.God-speed.

Sore is her state and dire her need;

Come, or else send her aGod-speed.God-speed.

Brand.[ToFirst Man.]

Brand.

[ToFirst Man.]

Go; tell her still: God’s wine and breadMust on a spotless board be spread.

Go; tell her still: God’s wine and bread

Must on a spotless board be spread.

[The Men go.

Agnes.

I tremble Brand. You seem a SwordSwung flaming by a wrathful Lord!

I tremble Brand. You seem a Sword

Swung flaming by a wrathful Lord!

Brand.[With tears in his voice.]

Brand.

[With tears in his voice.]

Does not the world face me no lessWith swordless sheath upon its thigh?Am I not torn and baffled byIts dull defiant stubbornness?

Does not the world face me no less

With swordless sheath upon its thigh?

Am I not torn and baffled by

Its dull defiant stubbornness?

Agnes.

A hard condition you demand.

Brand.

Dare you impose a lighter?

Agnes.

LayThat stern demand on whom you may,And see who, tested so, will stand.

Lay

That stern demand on whom you may,

And see who, tested so, will stand.

Brand.

Nay, you have reason for that fear.So base, distorted, barren, sere,The aspiring soul in men is grown.’Tis thought a marvel,—by bequestTo give away one’s wealth unknown.And be anonymously bless’d.The hero, bid him blot his name,Content him with the service wrought,Kings, Kaisers, bid him do the same—And see how many fields are fought!The poet, bid him unbeholdenLoose his bright fledglings from the cage,So that none dream he gave that goldenPlumage, and he that vocal rage;Try the green bough, or try the bare,Sacrificeis not anywhere.Earth has enslaved all earthly things;—Over Life’s precipices cast,Each to its mouldering branches clings,And, if they crumble, clutches fastWith tooth and nail to straws and bast

Nay, you have reason for that fear.

So base, distorted, barren, sere,

The aspiring soul in men is grown.

’Tis thought a marvel,—by bequest

To give away one’s wealth unknown.

And be anonymously bless’d.

The hero, bid him blot his name,

Content him with the service wrought,

Kings, Kaisers, bid him do the same—

And see how many fields are fought!

The poet, bid him unbeholden

Loose his bright fledglings from the cage,

So that none dream he gave that golden

Plumage, and he that vocal rage;

Try the green bough, or try the bare,

Sacrificeis not anywhere.

Earth has enslaved all earthly things;—

Over Life’s precipices cast,

Each to its mouldering branches clings,

And, if they crumble, clutches fast

With tooth and nail to straws and bast

Agnes.

And, while they helpless, hopeless fall,You cry: Givenothingor give all!

And, while they helpless, hopeless fall,

You cry: Givenothingor give all!

Brand.

He who would conquer still must fight,Rise, fallen to the highest height.[A brief silence: his voice changes.]And yet, when with that stern demandBefore some living soul I stand,I seem like one that floats afarStorm-shatter’d on a broken spar.With solitary anguish wrungI’ve bitten this chastising tongue,And thirsted, as I aim’d the blow,To clasp the bosom of my foe.Go, Agnes, watch the sleeping boy.And sing him into dreams of joy.An infant’s soul is like the sleepOf still clear tarns in summer-light.A mother over it may sweepAnd hover, like the bird, whose flightIs mirror’d in the deepest deep.

He who would conquer still must fight,

Rise, fallen to the highest height.

[A brief silence: his voice changes.]

And yet, when with that stern demand

Before some living soul I stand,

I seem like one that floats afar

Storm-shatter’d on a broken spar.

With solitary anguish wrung

I’ve bitten this chastising tongue,

And thirsted, as I aim’d the blow,

To clasp the bosom of my foe.

Go, Agnes, watch the sleeping boy.

And sing him into dreams of joy.

An infant’s soul is like the sleep

Of still clear tarns in summer-light.

A mother over it may sweep

And hover, like the bird, whose flight

Is mirror’d in the deepest deep.

Agnes.

What does it mean, Brand? Wheresoe’erYou aim your thought-shafts—they flythere!

What does it mean, Brand? Wheresoe’er

You aim your thought-shafts—they flythere!

Brand.

Oh, nothing. Softly watch the child.

Agnes.

Give me a watchword.

Brand.

Stern?

Agnes.

No, mild.

Brand.[Clasping her.]

Brand.

[Clasping her.]

The blameless shall not taste the grave.

Agnes.[Looking brightly up at him.]

Agnes.

[Looking brightly up at him.]

Thenoneis ours God may not crave!

[Goes into the house.

Brand.[Looking fixedly before him.]

Brand.

[Looking fixedly before him.]

But if hemight? What “Isaac’s Fear”Once ventured, He may venture here.[Shakes off the thought.]No, no, my sacrifice is made,The calling of my life gainsaid—Like the Lord’s thunder to go forthAnd rouse the sleepers of the earth.Sacrifice! Liar! there was none!I miss’d it when my Dream was done,When Agnes woke me—and follow’d freeTo labour in the gloom with me.[Looks along the road.]Why tarries still the dying call,Her word, that she will offer all,That she has won that which uprootsSin’s deepest fibres, rankest shoots!See there——! No, it is but the Mayor,Well-meaning, brisk, and debonnaire,Both hands in pockets, round, remiss,A bracketed parenthesis.

But if hemight? What “Isaac’s Fear”

Once ventured, He may venture here.

[Shakes off the thought.]

No, no, my sacrifice is made,

The calling of my life gainsaid—

Like the Lord’s thunder to go forth

And rouse the sleepers of the earth.

Sacrifice! Liar! there was none!

I miss’d it when my Dream was done,

When Agnes woke me—and follow’d free

To labour in the gloom with me.

[Looks along the road.]

Why tarries still the dying call,

Her word, that she will offer all,

That she has won that which uproots

Sin’s deepest fibres, rankest shoots!

See there——! No, it is but the Mayor,

Well-meaning, brisk, and debonnaire,

Both hands in pockets, round, remiss,

A bracketed parenthesis.

EnterMayor.

The Mayor.[Through the garden gate.]

The Mayor.

[Through the garden gate.]

Good-day! Our meetings are but rare,Perhaps my time is chosen amiss——

Good-day! Our meetings are but rare,

Perhaps my time is chosen amiss——

Brand.[Pointing to house.]

Brand.

[Pointing to house.]

Come in.

The Mayor.

Thanks; here I’m quite content.Should my proposal meet assent,I’m very sure the upshot of itWould issue in our common profit.

Thanks; here I’m quite content.

Should my proposal meet assent,

I’m very sure the upshot of it

Would issue in our common profit.

Brand.

Name your desire.

The Mayor.

Your mother’s state,I understand, is desperate.I’m sorry.

Your mother’s state,

I understand, is desperate.

I’m sorry.

Brand.

That I do not doubt.

The Mayor.

I’mverysorry.

Brand.

Pray, speak out.

The Mayor.

She’s old, however. Welladay,We are all bound the selfsame way—And, as I just drove by, occurr’dThe thought that, after all, “to leapIs just as easy as to creep”:Moreover, many have averr’d,That she and you have been imbruedFor years in a domestic feud——

She’s old, however. Welladay,

We are all bound the selfsame way—

And, as I just drove by, occurr’d

The thought that, after all, “to leap

Is just as easy as to creep”:

Moreover, many have averr’d,

That she and you have been imbrued

For years in a domestic feud——

Brand.

Domestic feud?

The Mayor.

She’s out and outClose-fisted, so they say, you know.You think it goes too far, no doubt.A man’s own claims he can’t forego.She keeps exclusive occupationOf all that was bequeath’d to you.

She’s out and out

Close-fisted, so they say, you know.

You think it goes too far, no doubt.

A man’s own claims he can’t forego.

She keeps exclusive occupation

Of all that was bequeath’d to you.

Brand.

Exclusive occupation, true.

The Mayor.

A ready cause of irritationIn families. Surmising thenceThat you await with resignationThe moment of her going hence,I hope I may without offenceSpeak out, although I quite admitThe time I’ve chosen is unfit.

A ready cause of irritation

In families. Surmising thence

That you await with resignation

The moment of her going hence,

I hope I may without offence

Speak out, although I quite admit

The time I’ve chosen is unfit.

Brand.

Or now or later, nought I care.

The Mayor.

Well, to the point then, fair and square.When once your mother’s dead and blest,In the earth’s bosom laid to rest,You’rerich!

Well, to the point then, fair and square.

When once your mother’s dead and blest,

In the earth’s bosom laid to rest,

You’rerich!

Brand.

You think so?

The Mayor.

Think? Nay, man,That’s sure. She’s land in every port,Far as a telescope can scan.You’re rich!

Think? Nay, man,

That’s sure. She’s land in every port,

Far as a telescope can scan.

You’re rich!

Brand.

’Spite the Succession Court?

The Mayor.[Smiling.]

The Mayor.

[Smiling.]

What of it? That cuts matters shortWhen many fight for pelf and debt.Here no man’s interest suffers let.

What of it? That cuts matters short

When many fight for pelf and debt.

Here no man’s interest suffers let.

Brand.

And what if some day, all the same,Came a coheir to debt and pelfCrying: “I’m he!” and urged his claim?

And what if some day, all the same,

Came a coheir to debt and pelf

Crying: “I’m he!” and urged his claim?

The Mayor.

He’d have to be the devil himself!Just look to me! None else has hereThe smallest right to interfere.I know my business: lean on me!Well, then; you’ll now be well-to-do,Rich even; you’ll no longer brookLife in this God-forsaken nook;The whole land’s open now to you.

He’d have to be the devil himself!

Just look to me! None else has here

The smallest right to interfere.

I know my business: lean on me!

Well, then; you’ll now be well-to-do,

Rich even; you’ll no longer brook

Life in this God-forsaken nook;

The whole land’s open now to you.

Brand.

Mayor, is not what you want to say,Pithily put, just: “Goaway”?

Mayor, is not what you want to say,

Pithily put, just: “Goaway”?

The Mayor.

Pretty much that. All parties’ goodWere so best answered. If you wouldBut eye attentively the herdTo whom you minister God’s word,You’d find you’re no more of a pieceWith them than foxes are with geese.Pray, understand me! You have gifts,Good where the social field is wide,But dangerous for folk whose prideIs to be Lords of rocky riftsAnd Freemen of the ravine-side.

Pretty much that. All parties’ good

Were so best answered. If you would

But eye attentively the herd

To whom you minister God’s word,

You’d find you’re no more of a piece

With them than foxes are with geese.

Pray, understand me! You have gifts,

Good where the social field is wide,

But dangerous for folk whose pride

Is to be Lords of rocky rifts

And Freemen of the ravine-side.

Brand.

To a man’s feet his native hauntIs as unto the tree the root.If there his labour fill no wantHis deeds are doomed, his music mute.

To a man’s feet his native haunt

Is as unto the tree the root.

If there his labour fill no want

His deeds are doomed, his music mute.

The Mayor.

Success means just: Self-adaptationTo the requirements of the nation.

Success means just: Self-adaptation

To the requirements of the nation.

Brand.

Which from the heights you best o’erlook,Not from the crag-encompass’d nook.

Which from the heights you best o’erlook,

Not from the crag-encompass’d nook.

The Mayor.

That talk is fit for citizens,Not for poor peasants of the glens.

That talk is fit for citizens,

Not for poor peasants of the glens.

Brand.

O, still your limitation vainBetween the mountain and the plain!World-citizens you’d be of right,While every civic claim you slight;And think, like dastards, to go freeBy whining: “We’re a small folk, we!”

O, still your limitation vain

Between the mountain and the plain!

World-citizens you’d be of right,

While every civic claim you slight;

And think, like dastards, to go free

By whining: “We’re a small folk, we!”

The Mayor.

All has its time, each time its need,Each age its proper work to do;We also flung our mite intoThe world’s great treasure of bold deed.True, that’s long since; but, after all,The mite was not so very small.Now the land’s dwindled and decay’d,But our renown still lives in story.The days of our reported gloryWere when the great King Belë sway’d.Many a tale is still relatedAbout the brothers Wulf and Thor,And gallant fellows by the score,Went harrying to the British shore,And plunder’d till their heart was sated.The Southrons shriek’d with quivering lip,“Lord, help us from these fierce men’s grip,”And these “fierce men,” beyond all doubt,Had from our harbours sallied out.And how these rovers wreak’d their ire,And dealt out death with sword and fire!Nay, legend names a lion-heartedHero that took the cross; in verity,It is not mentioned that he started——

All has its time, each time its need,

Each age its proper work to do;

We also flung our mite into

The world’s great treasure of bold deed.

True, that’s long since; but, after all,

The mite was not so very small.

Now the land’s dwindled and decay’d,

But our renown still lives in story.

The days of our reported glory

Were when the great King Belë sway’d.

Many a tale is still related

About the brothers Wulf and Thor,

And gallant fellows by the score,

Went harrying to the British shore,

And plunder’d till their heart was sated.

The Southrons shriek’d with quivering lip,

“Lord, help us from these fierce men’s grip,”

And these “fierce men,” beyond all doubt,

Had from our harbours sallied out.

And how these rovers wreak’d their ire,

And dealt out death with sword and fire!

Nay, legend names a lion-hearted

Hero that took the cross; in verity,

It is not mentioned that he started——

Brand.

He left behind a large posterity,This promise-maker?

He left behind a large posterity,

This promise-maker?

The Mayor.

Yes, indeed;But how came you to——?

Yes, indeed;

But how came you to——?

Brand.

O, I readHis features clearly in the breedOf promise-heroes of to-day,Who take the Cross in just his way.

O, I read

His features clearly in the breed

Of promise-heroes of to-day,

Who take the Cross in just his way.

The Mayor.

Yes, his descendants still remain.But we were on King Belë’s reign!So first abroad we battled. Then,Visited our own countrymenAnd kinsmen, with the axe and fire;Trampled their harvests gaily down,Scorch’d mansion-wall and village spire,And wove ourselves the hero’s crown.—Over the blood thus set a-flowingThere’s been perhaps excessive crowing;But, after what I’ve said, I may,I think, without a touch of vanity,Point backward to the stir we madeIn the great Age long since decay’d,And hold that we indeed have paidOur little mite of Fire and FrayTowards the Progress of Humanity.

Yes, his descendants still remain.

But we were on King Belë’s reign!

So first abroad we battled. Then,

Visited our own countrymen

And kinsmen, with the axe and fire;

Trampled their harvests gaily down,

Scorch’d mansion-wall and village spire,

And wove ourselves the hero’s crown.—

Over the blood thus set a-flowing

There’s been perhaps excessive crowing;

But, after what I’ve said, I may,

I think, without a touch of vanity,

Point backward to the stir we made

In the great Age long since decay’d,

And hold that we indeed have paid

Our little mite of Fire and Fray

Towards the Progress of Humanity.

Brand.

Yet do you not, in fact, eschewThe phrase, “Nobility’s a trust,”—And drive hoe, plough, and harrow throughKing Belë’s patrimonial dust?

Yet do you not, in fact, eschew

The phrase, “Nobility’s a trust,”—

And drive hoe, plough, and harrow through

King Belë’s patrimonial dust?

The Mayor.

By no means. Only go and markOur parish on its gaudy-nights,Where I with Constable and Clerk,And Judge, preside as leading lights;You’ll warrant, when the punch goes round,King Belë’s memory is sound.With toasts and clinking cups and song,In speeches short and speeches long,We drink his health and sound his fame.I myself often feel inclinedThe spinnings of my brain to windIn flowery woof about his name,And edify the local mind.A little poetry pleases me,And all our folks, in their degree;But—moderation everywhere!Inlifeit never must have share,—Except at night, when folks have leisure,Between the hours of seven and ten,When baths of elevating pleasureMay fit the mood of weary men.Here’s where we differ, you and we,That you desire with main and mightAt the same time toploughandfight.Your scheme, as far as I can see,Is: Life and Faith in unity,—God’s warfare and potato-dressingInseparably coalescing,As coal, salt, sulphur, fusing fast,Evolve just gunpowder at last.

By no means. Only go and mark

Our parish on its gaudy-nights,

Where I with Constable and Clerk,

And Judge, preside as leading lights;

You’ll warrant, when the punch goes round,

King Belë’s memory is sound.

With toasts and clinking cups and song,

In speeches short and speeches long,

We drink his health and sound his fame.

I myself often feel inclined

The spinnings of my brain to wind

In flowery woof about his name,

And edify the local mind.

A little poetry pleases me,

And all our folks, in their degree;

But—moderation everywhere!

Inlifeit never must have share,—

Except at night, when folks have leisure,

Between the hours of seven and ten,

When baths of elevating pleasure

May fit the mood of weary men.

Here’s where we differ, you and we,

That you desire with main and might

At the same time toploughandfight.

Your scheme, as far as I can see,

Is: Life and Faith in unity,—

God’s warfare and potato-dressing

Inseparably coalescing,

As coal, salt, sulphur, fusing fast,

Evolve just gunpowder at last.

Brand.

Somewhat so.

The Mayor.

Here you’ll scheme in vain!Out in the great world that may stand;—Go thither with your big demand,And let us plough our moors and main.

Here you’ll scheme in vain!

Out in the great world that may stand;—

Go thither with your big demand,

And let us plough our moors and main.

Brand.

Plough first your brag of old renownInto the main, and plough it down!The pigmy is not more the manFor being of Goliath’s clan.

Plough first your brag of old renown

Into the main, and plough it down!

The pigmy is not more the man

For being of Goliath’s clan.

The Mayor.

Great memories bear the seed of growth.

Brand.

Yes,memoriesthat tolifeare bound;But you, of memory’s empty mound,Have made a stalking-horse for sloth.

Yes,memoriesthat tolifeare bound;

But you, of memory’s empty mound,

Have made a stalking-horse for sloth.

The Mayor.

I said at first, and still I say:—To leave us were the wisest way.Your work here cannot come to good,Nor your ideas be understood.The little flights to purer air,The lifting-up which, now and then,Is doubtless well for working men,Shall be my unremitting care.Many agreeable facts declareMy ceaseless energy as mayor,—Through me the population’s grownDouble, nay, almost three to one,Since for the district I have bredEver new ways of getting fed.With stubborn nature still at strifeWe’ve steam’d ahead: our forward marchHere hew’d a road, there flung an arch—To lead from——

I said at first, and still I say:—

To leave us were the wisest way.

Your work here cannot come to good,

Nor your ideas be understood.

The little flights to purer air,

The lifting-up which, now and then,

Is doubtless well for working men,

Shall be my unremitting care.

Many agreeable facts declare

My ceaseless energy as mayor,—

Through me the population’s grown

Double, nay, almost three to one,

Since for the district I have bred

Ever new ways of getting fed.

With stubborn nature still at strife

We’ve steam’d ahead: our forward march

Here hew’d a road, there flung an arch—

To lead from——

Brand.

Not from Faith to Life.

The Mayor.

To lead from fjordside to the hill.

Brand.

But not from Doctrine unto Will.

The Mayor.

First of all, get a passage clearFrom men to men, from place to place.There were no two opinions hereOn that, until you show’d your face.Now you’ve made all confusion, dashingAurora-flames with lantern light;With such cross-luminaries flashing,Who can distinguish wrong from right,Tell what will mar, and what will mend?All diverse things you mix and blend,And into hostile camps divideThose who should triumph side by side.

First of all, get a passage clear

From men to men, from place to place.

There were no two opinions here

On that, until you show’d your face.

Now you’ve made all confusion, dashing

Aurora-flames with lantern light;

With such cross-luminaries flashing,

Who can distinguish wrong from right,

Tell what will mar, and what will mend?

All diverse things you mix and blend,

And into hostile camps divide

Those who should triumph side by side.

Brand.

Here, notwithstanding, I abide.Man chooses not his labour’s sphere.Who knows and follows out his call,Has seen God’s writing on the wall,In words of fire, “Your place is here!”

Here, notwithstanding, I abide.

Man chooses not his labour’s sphere.

Who knows and follows out his call,

Has seen God’s writing on the wall,

In words of fire, “Your place is here!”

The Mayor.

Stay, then, but keep within your borders;You’re free to purge the folk of crimes,Vices, and other rifle disorders;God knows, it’s needed oftentimes!But don’t make every working-dayA Sabbath, and your flag display,As if the Almighty were on boardOf every skiff that skims the fjord.

Stay, then, but keep within your borders;

You’re free to purge the folk of crimes,

Vices, and other rifle disorders;

God knows, it’s needed oftentimes!

But don’t make every working-day

A Sabbath, and your flag display,

As if the Almighty were on board

Of every skiff that skims the fjord.

Brand.

To use your counsel, I must changeMy soul and all her vision’s range;But we are called,ourselvesto be,Our own cause bear to victory;And I will bear it, till the landIs all illumined where I stand!The people, your bureaucrat-crewHave lull’d asleep, shall wake anew;Too long you’ve cramp’d and caged apartThese remnants of the Mountain heart;Out of your niggard hunger-cureThey pass dejected, dull, demure:Their best, their bravest blood you tap,Scoop out their marrow and their sap,Pound into splinters every soul,That should have stood a welded whole;—But you may live to hear the roarOf revolution thunder:War!

To use your counsel, I must change

My soul and all her vision’s range;

But we are called,ourselvesto be,

Our own cause bear to victory;

And I will bear it, till the land

Is all illumined where I stand!

The people, your bureaucrat-crew

Have lull’d asleep, shall wake anew;

Too long you’ve cramp’d and caged apart

These remnants of the Mountain heart;

Out of your niggard hunger-cure

They pass dejected, dull, demure:

Their best, their bravest blood you tap,

Scoop out their marrow and their sap,

Pound into splinters every soul,

That should have stood a welded whole;—

But you may live to hear the roar

Of revolution thunder:War!

The Mayor.

War?

Brand.

War!

The Mayor.

Be sure, if you should callTo arms, you’ll be the first to fall.

Be sure, if you should call

To arms, you’ll be the first to fall.

Brand.

The day will come when we shall knowThat triumph’s height is Overthrow.

The day will come when we shall know

That triumph’s height is Overthrow.

The Mayor.

Consider, Brand, you have to choose!Don’t stake your fortune on one card.

Consider, Brand, you have to choose!

Don’t stake your fortune on one card.

Brand.

I do, however!

The Mayor.

If you lose,Your life’s irreparably marr’d.All this world’s bounties you possess,You, a rich Mother’s only heir,With wife and child to be your care,—It was a kindly hand, confess,That dealtyourterms of happiness!

If you lose,

Your life’s irreparably marr’d.

All this world’s bounties you possess,

You, a rich Mother’s only heir,

With wife and child to be your care,—

It was a kindly hand, confess,

That dealtyourterms of happiness!

Brand.

And what if I should, all the same,Reject these terms? andmust?

And what if I should, all the same,

Reject these terms? andmust?

The Mayor.

Your gameIs over, if you’ve once unfurl’dIn this last cranny of the worldThe standard of your world-wide war.Turn southward, to yon prosperous shoreWhere a man dares lift up his head;There you may perorate of rightAnd bid them bleed and bid them fight;Ourbloodshed is the sweat we pourIn daily wringing rocks for bread.

Your game

Is over, if you’ve once unfurl’d

In this last cranny of the world

The standard of your world-wide war.

Turn southward, to yon prosperous shore

Where a man dares lift up his head;

There you may perorate of right

And bid them bleed and bid them fight;

Ourbloodshed is the sweat we pour

In daily wringing rocks for bread.

Brand.

Here I remain. My home is here!And here the battle-flag I’ll rear.

Here I remain. My home is here!

And here the battle-flag I’ll rear.

The Mayor.

Think what you lose, if overthrown,And, chiefly, think of what you quit!

Think what you lose, if overthrown,

And, chiefly, think of what you quit!

Brand.

Myself I lose, if I submit.

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