Chapter 14

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

How?

How?

How?

How?

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Do you take me? I can cureA want, of long and bitter proof,By building, for the Town’s behoof,A Pest-house for the afflicted Poor.Pest-house I call a thing projectedTo rid us of the crime-infected.And, I reflected, to the Pest-houseMight well be added an Arrest-house,The cause with its effect confinedThe selfsame bars and bolts behind,And nothing but a wall between.And, while my hand is in, I meanIn the same block to build withalA wing for balls and ballotings,Social and business gatherings,With platform and Assembly-Hall;In short, a half-political,Half-social, smart and festive Guest-house.

Do you take me? I can cureA want, of long and bitter proof,By building, for the Town’s behoof,A Pest-house for the afflicted Poor.Pest-house I call a thing projectedTo rid us of the crime-infected.And, I reflected, to the Pest-houseMight well be added an Arrest-house,The cause with its effect confinedThe selfsame bars and bolts behind,And nothing but a wall between.And, while my hand is in, I meanIn the same block to build withalA wing for balls and ballotings,Social and business gatherings,With platform and Assembly-Hall;In short, a half-political,Half-social, smart and festive Guest-house.

Do you take me? I can cureA want, of long and bitter proof,By building, for the Town’s behoof,A Pest-house for the afflicted Poor.Pest-house I call a thing projectedTo rid us of the crime-infected.And, I reflected, to the Pest-houseMight well be added an Arrest-house,The cause with its effect confinedThe selfsame bars and bolts behind,And nothing but a wall between.And, while my hand is in, I meanIn the same block to build withalA wing for balls and ballotings,Social and business gatherings,With platform and Assembly-Hall;In short, a half-political,Half-social, smart and festive Guest-house.

Do you take me? I can cure

A want, of long and bitter proof,

By building, for the Town’s behoof,

A Pest-house for the afflicted Poor.

Pest-house I call a thing projected

To rid us of the crime-infected.

And, I reflected, to the Pest-house

Might well be added an Arrest-house,

The cause with its effect confined

The selfsame bars and bolts behind,

And nothing but a wall between.

And, while my hand is in, I mean

In the same block to build withal

A wing for balls and ballotings,

Social and business gatherings,

With platform and Assembly-Hall;

In short, a half-political,

Half-social, smart and festive Guest-house.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

Sorely required; this most of all;But yet there’sonething needed more.

Sorely required; this most of all;But yet there’sonething needed more.

Sorely required; this most of all;But yet there’sonething needed more.

Sorely required; this most of all;

But yet there’sonething needed more.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

You mean a Mad-house? Yes, indeed;A very peremptory need;That was my own idea before.But now, by friendly counsel wrought,I’ve utterly renounced the thought;For who’s to furnish the suppliesFor such a giant enterprise?To put a Mad-house up would come,Believe me, to a pretty sum,If all whom need and merit fitted,Should be within its walls admitted.We must not build for our caprice,But note Time’s current as it glides;—The world moves on with giant strides,Last year abundance, famine this;You see to what a monstrous girthThe folks’ necessities have swell’d,Talents for everything on earth,Headlong by seven-league boots propell’d,Are swarming madly to the birth.Thus it would be too dear a jestTo build posterity a nestAnd let self, wife, and children go;This tooth, I say, we can’t afford:Out with it therefore, by the Lord!

You mean a Mad-house? Yes, indeed;A very peremptory need;That was my own idea before.But now, by friendly counsel wrought,I’ve utterly renounced the thought;For who’s to furnish the suppliesFor such a giant enterprise?To put a Mad-house up would come,Believe me, to a pretty sum,If all whom need and merit fitted,Should be within its walls admitted.We must not build for our caprice,But note Time’s current as it glides;—The world moves on with giant strides,Last year abundance, famine this;You see to what a monstrous girthThe folks’ necessities have swell’d,Talents for everything on earth,Headlong by seven-league boots propell’d,Are swarming madly to the birth.Thus it would be too dear a jestTo build posterity a nestAnd let self, wife, and children go;This tooth, I say, we can’t afford:Out with it therefore, by the Lord!

You mean a Mad-house? Yes, indeed;A very peremptory need;That was my own idea before.But now, by friendly counsel wrought,I’ve utterly renounced the thought;For who’s to furnish the suppliesFor such a giant enterprise?To put a Mad-house up would come,Believe me, to a pretty sum,If all whom need and merit fitted,Should be within its walls admitted.We must not build for our caprice,But note Time’s current as it glides;—The world moves on with giant strides,Last year abundance, famine this;You see to what a monstrous girthThe folks’ necessities have swell’d,Talents for everything on earth,Headlong by seven-league boots propell’d,Are swarming madly to the birth.Thus it would be too dear a jestTo build posterity a nestAnd let self, wife, and children go;This tooth, I say, we can’t afford:Out with it therefore, by the Lord!

You mean a Mad-house? Yes, indeed;

A very peremptory need;

That was my own idea before.

But now, by friendly counsel wrought,

I’ve utterly renounced the thought;

For who’s to furnish the supplies

For such a giant enterprise?

To put a Mad-house up would come,

Believe me, to a pretty sum,

If all whom need and merit fitted,

Should be within its walls admitted.

We must not build for our caprice,

But note Time’s current as it glides;—

The world moves on with giant strides,

Last year abundance, famine this;

You see to what a monstrous girth

The folks’ necessities have swell’d,

Talents for everything on earth,

Headlong by seven-league boots propell’d,

Are swarming madly to the birth.

Thus it would be too dear a jest

To build posterity a nest

And let self, wife, and children go;

This tooth, I say, we can’t afford:

Out with it therefore, by the Lord!

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

And then, there’s the great Hall, you know,For any madder than the rest.

And then, there’s the great Hall, you know,For any madder than the rest.

And then, there’s the great Hall, you know,For any madder than the rest.

And then, there’s the great Hall, you know,

For any madder than the rest.

The Mayor.[Delighted.]

The Mayor.[Delighted.]

The Mayor.

[Delighted.]

Yes, it would mostly be to spare!Why, Brand, you’ve hit the nail-head there!If fortunate our project’s fate is,We get to boot—a Mad-house gratis;Here, shelter’d by the selfsame roof,And by the selfsame flag defended,All the essential strands are blendedThat tinge and tone our social woof.Here in one haven disemboguesThe flood of Paupers and of Rogues;With Lunatics who roam’d at large,Subject to no man’s check or charge;Here too our Freedom’s highest reach,The election-strife, the storm of speech;And here our Council-Hall, for framingMeasures to meet each public pest;And here our Feast-Hall, for proclaimingHow well we’ll guard the Past’s bequest.You see, then, if our Project stand,The Cragsman has at his commandAll he in reason can demand,—The right to live as he thinks best.God knows, how slender our resources,But once our enterprise in force is,I trust we may be with impunityStyled a well-organised community.

Yes, it would mostly be to spare!Why, Brand, you’ve hit the nail-head there!If fortunate our project’s fate is,We get to boot—a Mad-house gratis;Here, shelter’d by the selfsame roof,And by the selfsame flag defended,All the essential strands are blendedThat tinge and tone our social woof.Here in one haven disemboguesThe flood of Paupers and of Rogues;With Lunatics who roam’d at large,Subject to no man’s check or charge;Here too our Freedom’s highest reach,The election-strife, the storm of speech;And here our Council-Hall, for framingMeasures to meet each public pest;And here our Feast-Hall, for proclaimingHow well we’ll guard the Past’s bequest.You see, then, if our Project stand,The Cragsman has at his commandAll he in reason can demand,—The right to live as he thinks best.God knows, how slender our resources,But once our enterprise in force is,I trust we may be with impunityStyled a well-organised community.

Yes, it would mostly be to spare!Why, Brand, you’ve hit the nail-head there!If fortunate our project’s fate is,We get to boot—a Mad-house gratis;Here, shelter’d by the selfsame roof,And by the selfsame flag defended,All the essential strands are blendedThat tinge and tone our social woof.Here in one haven disemboguesThe flood of Paupers and of Rogues;With Lunatics who roam’d at large,Subject to no man’s check or charge;Here too our Freedom’s highest reach,The election-strife, the storm of speech;And here our Council-Hall, for framingMeasures to meet each public pest;And here our Feast-Hall, for proclaimingHow well we’ll guard the Past’s bequest.You see, then, if our Project stand,The Cragsman has at his commandAll he in reason can demand,—The right to live as he thinks best.God knows, how slender our resources,But once our enterprise in force is,I trust we may be with impunityStyled a well-organised community.

Yes, it would mostly be to spare!

Why, Brand, you’ve hit the nail-head there!

If fortunate our project’s fate is,

We get to boot—a Mad-house gratis;

Here, shelter’d by the selfsame roof,

And by the selfsame flag defended,

All the essential strands are blended

That tinge and tone our social woof.

Here in one haven disembogues

The flood of Paupers and of Rogues;

With Lunatics who roam’d at large,

Subject to no man’s check or charge;

Here too our Freedom’s highest reach,

The election-strife, the storm of speech;

And here our Council-Hall, for framing

Measures to meet each public pest;

And here our Feast-Hall, for proclaiming

How well we’ll guard the Past’s bequest.

You see, then, if our Project stand,

The Cragsman has at his command

All he in reason can demand,—

The right to live as he thinks best.

God knows, how slender our resources,

But once our enterprise in force is,

I trust we may be with impunity

Styled a well-organised community.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

But then the means—?

But then the means—?

But then the means—?

But then the means—?

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Ay, there’s the knot,As in all other things, in this.Hardly to contributions wroughtIs Will, and if your help I miss,I furl my flag without a thought:But with your eloquent allianceI’ll bid all obstacles defiance,And when all’s done, your kind compliance,Believe me, shall not be forgot.

Ay, there’s the knot,As in all other things, in this.Hardly to contributions wroughtIs Will, and if your help I miss,I furl my flag without a thought:But with your eloquent allianceI’ll bid all obstacles defiance,And when all’s done, your kind compliance,Believe me, shall not be forgot.

Ay, there’s the knot,As in all other things, in this.Hardly to contributions wroughtIs Will, and if your help I miss,I furl my flag without a thought:But with your eloquent allianceI’ll bid all obstacles defiance,And when all’s done, your kind compliance,Believe me, shall not be forgot.

Ay, there’s the knot,

As in all other things, in this.

Hardly to contributions wrought

Is Will, and if your help I miss,

I furl my flag without a thought:

But with your eloquent alliance

I’ll bid all obstacles defiance,

And when all’s done, your kind compliance,

Believe me, shall not be forgot.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

In short, you’dbuyme.

In short, you’dbuyme.

In short, you’dbuyme.

In short, you’dbuyme.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

For my aimI should prefer another name:I seek, with general good in view,That gulf of difference to crossWhich you from me and me from youHas sever’d, to our common loss.

For my aimI should prefer another name:I seek, with general good in view,That gulf of difference to crossWhich you from me and me from youHas sever’d, to our common loss.

For my aimI should prefer another name:I seek, with general good in view,That gulf of difference to crossWhich you from me and me from youHas sever’d, to our common loss.

For my aim

I should prefer another name:

I seek, with general good in view,

That gulf of difference to cross

Which you from me and me from you

Has sever’d, to our common loss.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

In an ill-omen’d hour you came——

In an ill-omen’d hour you came——

In an ill-omen’d hour you came——

In an ill-omen’d hour you came——

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Unfortunately yes, I own it:Your recent loss,—I might have known it,But your brave bearing re-assured me,And need of public credit lured me.

Unfortunately yes, I own it:Your recent loss,—I might have known it,But your brave bearing re-assured me,And need of public credit lured me.

Unfortunately yes, I own it:Your recent loss,—I might have known it,But your brave bearing re-assured me,And need of public credit lured me.

Unfortunately yes, I own it:

Your recent loss,—I might have known it,

But your brave bearing re-assured me,

And need of public credit lured me.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

In grievous or in gladsome seasonI render help where need is plain;But, for another weighty reason,This time your mission is in vain.

In grievous or in gladsome seasonI render help where need is plain;But, for another weighty reason,This time your mission is in vain.

In grievous or in gladsome seasonI render help where need is plain;But, for another weighty reason,This time your mission is in vain.

In grievous or in gladsome season

I render help where need is plain;

But, for another weighty reason,

This time your mission is in vain.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

And which, pray—?

And which, pray—?

And which, pray—?

And which, pray—?

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

Iam building too.

Iam building too.

Iam building too.

Iam building too.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

You building? You adopt my view?

You building? You adopt my view?

You building? You adopt my view?

You building? You adopt my view?

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

Not altogether.

Not altogether.

Not altogether.

Not altogether.

[Pointing out of the window.]

[Pointing out of the window.]

[Pointing out of the window.]

Do you see?

Do you see?

Do you see?

Do you see?

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Yonder

Yonder

Yonder

Yonder

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

That great ugly stall?—Why, that’s the Parsonage granary.

That great ugly stall?—Why, that’s the Parsonage granary.

That great ugly stall?—Why, that’s the Parsonage granary.

That great ugly stall?—

Why, that’s the Parsonage granary.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

No, not that;—but the ugly,small——

No, not that;—but the ugly,small——

No, not that;—but the ugly,small——

No, not that;—but the ugly,small——

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Church?

The Church?

The Church?

The Church?

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

I mean to build itgreat.

I mean to build itgreat.

I mean to build itgreat.

I mean to build itgreat.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

That, by the devil! you shall not!No man shall alter it one jot!My plan ’twould utterly frustrate.Mine’s urgent, only waits the word,By yours I’m absolutely floor’d;Two weapons can’t at once be wielded,Yield therefore—!

That, by the devil! you shall not!No man shall alter it one jot!My plan ’twould utterly frustrate.Mine’s urgent, only waits the word,By yours I’m absolutely floor’d;Two weapons can’t at once be wielded,Yield therefore—!

That, by the devil! you shall not!No man shall alter it one jot!My plan ’twould utterly frustrate.Mine’s urgent, only waits the word,By yours I’m absolutely floor’d;Two weapons can’t at once be wielded,Yield therefore—!

That, by the devil! you shall not!

No man shall alter it one jot!

My plan ’twould utterly frustrate.

Mine’s urgent, only waits the word,

By yours I’m absolutely floor’d;

Two weapons can’t at once be wielded,

Yield therefore—!

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

I have never yielded.

I have never yielded.

I have never yielded.

I have never yielded.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

You must, man, here. Build my Arrest-house,My Pest-house and my festive Guest-house,Build all, the Mad-house comprehending,And who’ll ask, where the Church wants mending?And why condemn it now to fall?’Twas well enough a while ago.

You must, man, here. Build my Arrest-house,My Pest-house and my festive Guest-house,Build all, the Mad-house comprehending,And who’ll ask, where the Church wants mending?And why condemn it now to fall?’Twas well enough a while ago.

You must, man, here. Build my Arrest-house,My Pest-house and my festive Guest-house,Build all, the Mad-house comprehending,And who’ll ask, where the Church wants mending?And why condemn it now to fall?’Twas well enough a while ago.

You must, man, here. Build my Arrest-house,

My Pest-house and my festive Guest-house,

Build all, the Mad-house comprehending,

And who’ll ask, where the Church wants mending?

And why condemn it now to fall?

’Twas well enough a while ago.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

Possibly;nowit is too small.

Possibly;nowit is too small.

Possibly;nowit is too small.

Possibly;nowit is too small.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Inever saw it full, I know.

Inever saw it full, I know.

Inever saw it full, I know.

Inever saw it full, I know.

Brand

Brand

Brand

Even a single soul is scanted,And has not room therein tosoar.soar.

Even a single soul is scanted,And has not room therein tosoar.soar.

Even a single soul is scanted,And has not room therein tosoar.soar.

Even a single soul is scanted,

And has not room therein tosoar.soar.

The Mayor.[Shaking his head in amazement.]

The Mayor.[Shaking his head in amazement.]

The Mayor.

[Shaking his head in amazement.]

(Which single soul but proves the moreHow sorely my Asylum’s wanted.)[Changing his tone.]Let the Church be, is my advice.One may regard it, in some wise,As a rich heirloom of our age;In fact, a noble heritage,Which we not lightly may remove.Nay, if my building project crashes,I, like a Phoenix from the ashes,Will live again in public love,As one chivalrously intentTo save our ancient monument!Here stood a heathen fane of old,—’Twas in King Belë’s reign, no doubt;Then, later heroes more devoutFounded the Church with looted gold.All-sacred in its antique dress,Grand in its simple stateliness,Till our own days it tower’d sublime——

(Which single soul but proves the moreHow sorely my Asylum’s wanted.)[Changing his tone.]Let the Church be, is my advice.One may regard it, in some wise,As a rich heirloom of our age;In fact, a noble heritage,Which we not lightly may remove.Nay, if my building project crashes,I, like a Phoenix from the ashes,Will live again in public love,As one chivalrously intentTo save our ancient monument!Here stood a heathen fane of old,—’Twas in King Belë’s reign, no doubt;Then, later heroes more devoutFounded the Church with looted gold.All-sacred in its antique dress,Grand in its simple stateliness,Till our own days it tower’d sublime——

(Which single soul but proves the moreHow sorely my Asylum’s wanted.)[Changing his tone.]Let the Church be, is my advice.One may regard it, in some wise,As a rich heirloom of our age;In fact, a noble heritage,Which we not lightly may remove.Nay, if my building project crashes,I, like a Phoenix from the ashes,Will live again in public love,As one chivalrously intentTo save our ancient monument!Here stood a heathen fane of old,—’Twas in King Belë’s reign, no doubt;Then, later heroes more devoutFounded the Church with looted gold.All-sacred in its antique dress,Grand in its simple stateliness,Till our own days it tower’d sublime——

(Which single soul but proves the more

How sorely my Asylum’s wanted.)

[Changing his tone.]

Let the Church be, is my advice.

One may regard it, in some wise,

As a rich heirloom of our age;

In fact, a noble heritage,

Which we not lightly may remove.

Nay, if my building project crashes,

I, like a Phoenix from the ashes,

Will live again in public love,

As one chivalrously intent

To save our ancient monument!

Here stood a heathen fane of old,—

’Twas in King Belë’s reign, no doubt;

Then, later heroes more devout

Founded the Church with looted gold.

All-sacred in its antique dress,

Grand in its simple stateliness,

Till our own days it tower’d sublime——

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

But all these glories of old timeLie long since buried deep in mould,Of all surviving sign bereft.

But all these glories of old timeLie long since buried deep in mould,Of all surviving sign bereft.

But all these glories of old timeLie long since buried deep in mould,Of all surviving sign bereft.

But all these glories of old time

Lie long since buried deep in mould,

Of all surviving sign bereft.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Just so! They are so very oldThat not a trace of them is left.But in my late grandfather’s dayA wall-hole still defied decay!

Just so! They are so very oldThat not a trace of them is left.But in my late grandfather’s dayA wall-hole still defied decay!

Just so! They are so very oldThat not a trace of them is left.But in my late grandfather’s dayA wall-hole still defied decay!

Just so! They are so very old

That not a trace of them is left.

But in my late grandfather’s day

A wall-hole still defied decay!

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

A wall-hole?

A wall-hole?

A wall-hole?

A wall-hole?

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Fit to hold a tun!

Fit to hold a tun!

Fit to hold a tun!

Fit to hold a tun!

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

But the wall’s self?

But the wall’s self?

But the wall’s self?

But the wall’s self?

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Oh, that was gone.In plain terms then, I am compell’dTo say, your scheme is out of court:—A barbarous and unparallel’dHorrible sacrilege, in short.And then the money,—do you dreamThese folks are so profuse in spending,That they’ll contrive new cost by lendingExistence to a half-hatch’d scheme?When with a little deftness theyMay so far patch the crumbling wallThat inourtime it will not fall?But just go out!—the field survey,—You’ll find, I’m winner after all.

Oh, that was gone.In plain terms then, I am compell’dTo say, your scheme is out of court:—A barbarous and unparallel’dHorrible sacrilege, in short.And then the money,—do you dreamThese folks are so profuse in spending,That they’ll contrive new cost by lendingExistence to a half-hatch’d scheme?When with a little deftness theyMay so far patch the crumbling wallThat inourtime it will not fall?But just go out!—the field survey,—You’ll find, I’m winner after all.

Oh, that was gone.In plain terms then, I am compell’dTo say, your scheme is out of court:—A barbarous and unparallel’dHorrible sacrilege, in short.And then the money,—do you dreamThese folks are so profuse in spending,That they’ll contrive new cost by lendingExistence to a half-hatch’d scheme?When with a little deftness theyMay so far patch the crumbling wallThat inourtime it will not fall?But just go out!—the field survey,—You’ll find, I’m winner after all.

Oh, that was gone.

In plain terms then, I am compell’d

To say, your scheme is out of court:—

A barbarous and unparallel’d

Horrible sacrilege, in short.

And then the money,—do you dream

These folks are so profuse in spending,

That they’ll contrive new cost by lending

Existence to a half-hatch’d scheme?

When with a little deftness they

May so far patch the crumbling wall

That inourtime it will not fall?

But just go out!—the field survey,—

You’ll find, I’m winner after all.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

From no man will I wring a jotTo give my God house-harbourage:With my own goods it shall be wrought;In that one work my heritageTo the last penny shall be spent.—Now, Mayor, are you still confidentThat you can shake me from my thought?

From no man will I wring a jotTo give my God house-harbourage:With my own goods it shall be wrought;In that one work my heritageTo the last penny shall be spent.—Now, Mayor, are you still confidentThat you can shake me from my thought?

From no man will I wring a jotTo give my God house-harbourage:With my own goods it shall be wrought;In that one work my heritageTo the last penny shall be spent.—Now, Mayor, are you still confidentThat you can shake me from my thought?

From no man will I wring a jot

To give my God house-harbourage:

With my own goods it shall be wrought;

In that one work my heritage

To the last penny shall be spent.—

Now, Mayor, are you still confident

That you can shake me from my thought?

The Mayor.[With folded hands.]

The Mayor.[With folded hands.]

The Mayor.

[With folded hands.]

I stand—as from the clouds dropp’d downSuch things are even in a TownScarce heard of,—and yet here, for us,Who long to the necessitousHave closed our purses and our doors,You loose this flood of gifts unboundedThat ripples, flashes, foams and pours—.—No, Brand, I’m utterlydumbfounded.dumbfounded.

I stand—as from the clouds dropp’d downSuch things are even in a TownScarce heard of,—and yet here, for us,Who long to the necessitousHave closed our purses and our doors,You loose this flood of gifts unboundedThat ripples, flashes, foams and pours—.—No, Brand, I’m utterlydumbfounded.dumbfounded.

I stand—as from the clouds dropp’d downSuch things are even in a TownScarce heard of,—and yet here, for us,Who long to the necessitousHave closed our purses and our doors,You loose this flood of gifts unboundedThat ripples, flashes, foams and pours—.—No, Brand, I’m utterlydumbfounded.dumbfounded.

I stand—as from the clouds dropp’d down

Such things are even in a Town

Scarce heard of,—and yet here, for us,

Who long to the necessitous

Have closed our purses and our doors,

You loose this flood of gifts unbounded

That ripples, flashes, foams and pours—.

—No, Brand, I’m utterlydumbfounded.dumbfounded.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

In thought I long ago resign’dMy wealth——

In thought I long ago resign’dMy wealth——

In thought I long ago resign’dMy wealth——

In thought I long ago resign’d

My wealth——

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Yes, whisper’d hints have flownPointing to something of the kind.But I regarded them as wind.How many men give all they ownWithout a tangible return?However, that’s your own concern.—Go on! I’ll follow. You’re in feather,You can act freely, work and sway.—Brand, we will build the Churchtogether.

Yes, whisper’d hints have flownPointing to something of the kind.But I regarded them as wind.How many men give all they ownWithout a tangible return?However, that’s your own concern.—Go on! I’ll follow. You’re in feather,You can act freely, work and sway.—Brand, we will build the Churchtogether.

Yes, whisper’d hints have flownPointing to something of the kind.But I regarded them as wind.How many men give all they ownWithout a tangible return?However, that’s your own concern.—Go on! I’ll follow. You’re in feather,You can act freely, work and sway.—Brand, we will build the Churchtogether.

Yes, whisper’d hints have flown

Pointing to something of the kind.

But I regarded them as wind.

How many men give all they own

Without a tangible return?

However, that’s your own concern.—

Go on! I’ll follow. You’re in feather,

You can act freely, work and sway.—

Brand, we will build the Churchtogether.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

What, you are willing to give way?

What, you are willing to give way?

What, you are willing to give way?

What, you are willing to give way?

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Dear God’s my witness, that I am!And shall be while my wits are sound!Whenonewould fatten, pamper, cram,—Another milk and shear and flay,—Where, think you, will the flock be found?Death and destruction, I’m your man!I’m fire and fury for the plan!Thrill’d, agitated, nay, affected!Providence prompted the designThat led me to your door to-night,For sure, without the hint ofmine,Yourplan had scarcely been projected,Or, at the least, scarce seen the light!And thus the Church, conceived aright,Will bymymeans have been erected!

Dear God’s my witness, that I am!And shall be while my wits are sound!Whenonewould fatten, pamper, cram,—Another milk and shear and flay,—Where, think you, will the flock be found?Death and destruction, I’m your man!I’m fire and fury for the plan!Thrill’d, agitated, nay, affected!Providence prompted the designThat led me to your door to-night,For sure, without the hint ofmine,Yourplan had scarcely been projected,Or, at the least, scarce seen the light!And thus the Church, conceived aright,Will bymymeans have been erected!

Dear God’s my witness, that I am!And shall be while my wits are sound!Whenonewould fatten, pamper, cram,—Another milk and shear and flay,—Where, think you, will the flock be found?Death and destruction, I’m your man!I’m fire and fury for the plan!Thrill’d, agitated, nay, affected!Providence prompted the designThat led me to your door to-night,For sure, without the hint ofmine,Yourplan had scarcely been projected,Or, at the least, scarce seen the light!And thus the Church, conceived aright,Will bymymeans have been erected!

Dear God’s my witness, that I am!

And shall be while my wits are sound!

Whenonewould fatten, pamper, cram,—

Another milk and shear and flay,—

Where, think you, will the flock be found?

Death and destruction, I’m your man!

I’m fire and fury for the plan!

Thrill’d, agitated, nay, affected!

Providence prompted the design

That led me to your door to-night,

For sure, without the hint ofmine,

Yourplan had scarcely been projected,

Or, at the least, scarce seen the light!

And thus the Church, conceived aright,

Will bymymeans have been erected!

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

But, don’t forget, we must lay lowThat towering relic of the past!

But, don’t forget, we must lay lowThat towering relic of the past!

But, don’t forget, we must lay lowThat towering relic of the past!

But, don’t forget, we must lay low

That towering relic of the past!

The Mayor.[Looking out.]

The Mayor.[Looking out.]

The Mayor.

[Looking out.]

Seen in the twofold glimmer castBy the new moon and the fresh snow,It seems a sort of—rubbish-heap.

Seen in the twofold glimmer castBy the new moon and the fresh snow,It seems a sort of—rubbish-heap.

Seen in the twofold glimmer castBy the new moon and the fresh snow,It seems a sort of—rubbish-heap.

Seen in the twofold glimmer cast

By the new moon and the fresh snow,

It seems a sort of—rubbish-heap.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

What, Mayor!

What, Mayor!

What, Mayor!

What, Mayor!

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

It is too old to keep!I fail entirely to explain it,Till now it never struck my eye,—The weathercock stands all awry;It would be monstrous to retain it.And where are architecture, style,Rightly regarded, in the pile?What terms can give that arch its due?An architect would call itvile;—And really I must share his view.And then that roof with moss-tufts blowing,—Bless me, they’re none of Belë’s growing.No, we may overmuch assertThe reverence for ancient glories!One fact, at least, there’s no o’erthrowing,That this old rotten hut no more isBut just a very heap of dirt!

It is too old to keep!I fail entirely to explain it,Till now it never struck my eye,—The weathercock stands all awry;It would be monstrous to retain it.And where are architecture, style,Rightly regarded, in the pile?What terms can give that arch its due?An architect would call itvile;—And really I must share his view.And then that roof with moss-tufts blowing,—Bless me, they’re none of Belë’s growing.No, we may overmuch assertThe reverence for ancient glories!One fact, at least, there’s no o’erthrowing,That this old rotten hut no more isBut just a very heap of dirt!

It is too old to keep!I fail entirely to explain it,Till now it never struck my eye,—The weathercock stands all awry;It would be monstrous to retain it.And where are architecture, style,Rightly regarded, in the pile?What terms can give that arch its due?An architect would call itvile;—And really I must share his view.And then that roof with moss-tufts blowing,—Bless me, they’re none of Belë’s growing.No, we may overmuch assertThe reverence for ancient glories!One fact, at least, there’s no o’erthrowing,That this old rotten hut no more isBut just a very heap of dirt!

It is too old to keep!

I fail entirely to explain it,

Till now it never struck my eye,—

The weathercock stands all awry;

It would be monstrous to retain it.

And where are architecture, style,

Rightly regarded, in the pile?

What terms can give that arch its due?

An architect would call itvile;—

And really I must share his view.

And then that roof with moss-tufts blowing,—

Bless me, they’re none of Belë’s growing.

No, we may overmuch assert

The reverence for ancient glories!

One fact, at least, there’s no o’erthrowing,

That this old rotten hut no more is

But just a very heap of dirt!

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

But if the people’s voice should stormAt those who seek to lay it low—?

But if the people’s voice should stormAt those who seek to lay it low—?

But if the people’s voice should stormAt those who seek to lay it low—?

But if the people’s voice should storm

At those who seek to lay it low—?

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Iwill it though they all cry No.This Christmas with the least delayI’ll put the thing in proper form,And launch it smoothly on its way.I’ll write, I’ll agitate, I’ll sway!Ay, ay—you know the stuff I’m made of!And if I cannot hire or houndThe foolish flock to help to end it,With my own hands I’ll rive and rend it,Timber by timber, to the ground.Nay, though I had to call the aid ofMy wife and all my girls as well,Down it should come, by death andhell.hell.

Iwill it though they all cry No.This Christmas with the least delayI’ll put the thing in proper form,And launch it smoothly on its way.I’ll write, I’ll agitate, I’ll sway!Ay, ay—you know the stuff I’m made of!And if I cannot hire or houndThe foolish flock to help to end it,With my own hands I’ll rive and rend it,Timber by timber, to the ground.Nay, though I had to call the aid ofMy wife and all my girls as well,Down it should come, by death andhell.hell.

Iwill it though they all cry No.This Christmas with the least delayI’ll put the thing in proper form,And launch it smoothly on its way.I’ll write, I’ll agitate, I’ll sway!Ay, ay—you know the stuff I’m made of!And if I cannot hire or houndThe foolish flock to help to end it,With my own hands I’ll rive and rend it,Timber by timber, to the ground.Nay, though I had to call the aid ofMy wife and all my girls as well,Down it should come, by death andhell.hell.

Iwill it though they all cry No.

This Christmas with the least delay

I’ll put the thing in proper form,

And launch it smoothly on its way.

I’ll write, I’ll agitate, I’ll sway!

Ay, ay—you know the stuff I’m made of!

And if I cannot hire or hound

The foolish flock to help to end it,

With my own hands I’ll rive and rend it,

Timber by timber, to the ground.

Nay, though I had to call the aid of

My wife and all my girls as well,

Down it should come, by death andhell.hell.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

This language has another soundThan that which earlier from you fell.

This language has another soundThan that which earlier from you fell.

This language has another soundThan that which earlier from you fell.

This language has another sound

Than that which earlier from you fell.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

To be humane is to repressAll manner ofOne-sidedness.And sure, if truth the poet utters,Precisely what is to be soughtIn thinking is “the winged thought,”—That is to say—the thought that flutters.Farewell.[Taking his hat.]I have to see the band.

To be humane is to repressAll manner ofOne-sidedness.And sure, if truth the poet utters,Precisely what is to be soughtIn thinking is “the winged thought,”—That is to say—the thought that flutters.Farewell.[Taking his hat.]I have to see the band.

To be humane is to repressAll manner ofOne-sidedness.And sure, if truth the poet utters,Precisely what is to be soughtIn thinking is “the winged thought,”—That is to say—the thought that flutters.Farewell.[Taking his hat.]I have to see the band.

To be humane is to repress

All manner ofOne-sidedness.

And sure, if truth the poet utters,

Precisely what is to be sought

In thinking is “the winged thought,”—

That is to say—the thought that flutters.

Farewell.

[Taking his hat.]

I have to see the band.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

The what?

The what?

The what?

The what?

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Just think, within our landThis morning two of us laid handOn a foul-favour’d gipsy-horde,So I got help with rope and cord,And now they’re in your neighbour’s wardNext to the North, but—devil clip me!—If just a couple didn’t slip me——

Just think, within our landThis morning two of us laid handOn a foul-favour’d gipsy-horde,So I got help with rope and cord,And now they’re in your neighbour’s wardNext to the North, but—devil clip me!—If just a couple didn’t slip me——

Just think, within our landThis morning two of us laid handOn a foul-favour’d gipsy-horde,So I got help with rope and cord,And now they’re in your neighbour’s wardNext to the North, but—devil clip me!—If just a couple didn’t slip me——

Just think, within our land

This morning two of us laid hand

On a foul-favour’d gipsy-horde,

So I got help with rope and cord,

And now they’re in your neighbour’s ward

Next to the North, but—devil clip me!—

If just a couple didn’t slip me——

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

The bells are ringing: Peace to Men.

The bells are ringing: Peace to Men.

The bells are ringing: Peace to Men.

The bells are ringing: Peace to Men.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Why came this hell-brood hither, then?Yet in a sense, they are, ’tis true,Kin to this parish,—[Laughing.]Nay to you.Hark to a riddle; read it right,If you have power and appetite.There be, who in effect deriveFrom her, by whom you are alive,But owe their actual originTo coming of another kin.

Why came this hell-brood hither, then?Yet in a sense, they are, ’tis true,Kin to this parish,—[Laughing.]Nay to you.Hark to a riddle; read it right,If you have power and appetite.There be, who in effect deriveFrom her, by whom you are alive,But owe their actual originTo coming of another kin.

Why came this hell-brood hither, then?Yet in a sense, they are, ’tis true,Kin to this parish,—[Laughing.]Nay to you.Hark to a riddle; read it right,If you have power and appetite.There be, who in effect deriveFrom her, by whom you are alive,But owe their actual originTo coming of another kin.

Why came this hell-brood hither, then?

Yet in a sense, they are, ’tis true,

Kin to this parish,—

[Laughing.]

Nay to you.

Hark to a riddle; read it right,

If you have power and appetite.

There be, who in effect derive

From her, by whom you are alive,

But owe their actual origin

To coming of another kin.

Brand.[Shaking his head.]

Brand.[Shaking his head.]

Brand.

[Shaking his head.]

O God, so many riddles riseBefore our baffled, helpless eyes!

O God, so many riddles riseBefore our baffled, helpless eyes!

O God, so many riddles riseBefore our baffled, helpless eyes!

O God, so many riddles rise

Before our baffled, helpless eyes!

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

But this one’s very lightly guess’d.You must have often, heretofore,Heard tell one story or anotherOf that poor fellow here by WestWhose head four parsons’ learning bore;He went a-wooing to your Mother.

But this one’s very lightly guess’d.You must have often, heretofore,Heard tell one story or anotherOf that poor fellow here by WestWhose head four parsons’ learning bore;He went a-wooing to your Mother.

But this one’s very lightly guess’d.You must have often, heretofore,Heard tell one story or anotherOf that poor fellow here by WestWhose head four parsons’ learning bore;He went a-wooing to your Mother.

But this one’s very lightly guess’d.

You must have often, heretofore,

Heard tell one story or another

Of that poor fellow here by West

Whose head four parsons’ learning bore;

He went a-wooing to your Mother.

BrandBrand.

BrandBrand.

BrandBrand.

What then?

What then?

What then?

What then?

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Conceive,—a girl of goldShe sent him to the right-aboutPromptly, as might have been foretold.And how d’ye think he took the flout?Half mad with grief he wander’d out,Mated at last another bride,A gipsy,—and, before he died,Enrich’d with issue this foul bandThat sins and starves about the land.Nay, on this parish he conferr’dOne bastard imp—as souvenirOf his illustrious career.

Conceive,—a girl of goldShe sent him to the right-aboutPromptly, as might have been foretold.And how d’ye think he took the flout?Half mad with grief he wander’d out,Mated at last another bride,A gipsy,—and, before he died,Enrich’d with issue this foul bandThat sins and starves about the land.Nay, on this parish he conferr’dOne bastard imp—as souvenirOf his illustrious career.

Conceive,—a girl of goldShe sent him to the right-aboutPromptly, as might have been foretold.And how d’ye think he took the flout?Half mad with grief he wander’d out,Mated at last another bride,A gipsy,—and, before he died,Enrich’d with issue this foul bandThat sins and starves about the land.Nay, on this parish he conferr’dOne bastard imp—as souvenirOf his illustrious career.

Conceive,—a girl of gold

She sent him to the right-about

Promptly, as might have been foretold.

And how d’ye think he took the flout?

Half mad with grief he wander’d out,

Mated at last another bride,

A gipsy,—and, before he died,

Enrich’d with issue this foul band

That sins and starves about the land.

Nay, on this parish he conferr’d

One bastard imp—as souvenir

Of his illustrious career.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

Namely—?

Namely—?

Namely—?

Namely—?

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The gipsy-urchin Gerd.

The gipsy-urchin Gerd.

The gipsy-urchin Gerd.

The gipsy-urchin Gerd.

Brand.[In muffled tones.]

Brand.[In muffled tones.]

Brand.

[In muffled tones.]

Ah—so!

Ah—so!

Ah—so!

Ah—so!

The Mayor.[Gaily.]

The Mayor.[Gaily.]

The Mayor.

[Gaily.]

Confess, the riddle’s good!His issue in effect deriveFrom her by whom you are alive;For the first cause of all the broodWas, that he loved and she withstood.

Confess, the riddle’s good!His issue in effect deriveFrom her by whom you are alive;For the first cause of all the broodWas, that he loved and she withstood.

Confess, the riddle’s good!His issue in effect deriveFrom her by whom you are alive;For the first cause of all the broodWas, that he loved and she withstood.

Confess, the riddle’s good!

His issue in effect derive

From her by whom you are alive;

For the first cause of all the brood

Was, that he loved and she withstood.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

Advise me, Mayor; can you tellSome means of giving them relief?

Advise me, Mayor; can you tellSome means of giving them relief?

Advise me, Mayor; can you tellSome means of giving them relief?

Advise me, Mayor; can you tell

Some means of giving them relief?

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

Tut, clap them in a Bridewell cell.They’re overhead in debt to hell;To save them were to play the thiefWith Satan, who will lose his tradeIf earth restore not what he made.

Tut, clap them in a Bridewell cell.They’re overhead in debt to hell;To save them were to play the thiefWith Satan, who will lose his tradeIf earth restore not what he made.

Tut, clap them in a Bridewell cell.They’re overhead in debt to hell;To save them were to play the thiefWith Satan, who will lose his tradeIf earth restore not what he made.

Tut, clap them in a Bridewell cell.

They’re overhead in debt to hell;

To save them were to play the thief

With Satan, who will lose his trade

If earth restore not what he made.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

You plann’d to build a house, to betterThis naked misery and dearth——

You plann’d to build a house, to betterThis naked misery and dearth——

You plann’d to build a house, to betterThis naked misery and dearth——

You plann’d to build a house, to better

This naked misery and dearth——

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

The Mayor.

That plan was, by its own begetter,Slain in the moment of its birth.

That plan was, by its own begetter,Slain in the moment of its birth.

That plan was, by its own begetter,Slain in the moment of its birth.

That plan was, by its own begetter,

Slain in the moment of its birth.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

If after all though—it were well——

If after all though—it were well——

If after all though—it were well——

If after all though—it were well——

The Mayor.[Smiling.]

The Mayor.[Smiling.]

The Mayor.

[Smiling.]

This language has another soundThan that which earlier from you fell.[Clapping him on the shoulder.]What’s buried, leave it in the groundMan must not dash his deed with doubt.Farewell, farewell, I can’t remain,I must be off and scour the fell,To seek this nest of truants out.A merryYule! We’ll meet again!My greetings to your wife. Farewell![Goes.

This language has another soundThan that which earlier from you fell.[Clapping him on the shoulder.]What’s buried, leave it in the groundMan must not dash his deed with doubt.Farewell, farewell, I can’t remain,I must be off and scour the fell,To seek this nest of truants out.A merryYule! We’ll meet again!My greetings to your wife. Farewell![Goes.

This language has another soundThan that which earlier from you fell.[Clapping him on the shoulder.]What’s buried, leave it in the groundMan must not dash his deed with doubt.Farewell, farewell, I can’t remain,I must be off and scour the fell,To seek this nest of truants out.A merryYule! We’ll meet again!My greetings to your wife. Farewell![Goes.

This language has another sound

Than that which earlier from you fell.

[Clapping him on the shoulder.]

What’s buried, leave it in the ground

Man must not dash his deed with doubt.

Farewell, farewell, I can’t remain,

I must be off and scour the fell,

To seek this nest of truants out.

A merryYule! We’ll meet again!

My greetings to your wife. Farewell!

[Goes.

Brand.[After a meditative silence.]

Brand.[After a meditative silence.]

Brand.

[After a meditative silence.]

O expiation without end!—So wildly mingle, strangely blendThe threads that human fortune spin,—Sin tangled with the fruit of sin,Pouring its own pollution in,—That he who eyes their mazy flightSees foulest Wrong grow one with Right.[Goes to the window, and after a long look out.]My little child, lamb without stain,Thou for my mother’s deed wast slain;A shatter’d spirit bore His voiceWhose throne the crested heavens sustain,And bade me cast the die of choice.And this distracted soul had birthBecause my mother’s clave to earth.Thus the Lord, sowing fruit of crime,Reaps retribution in His time,And, reaching down from His high dome,Strikes the third generation home.[Starts back in horror from the window.]Yes, God is above all things just,And retribution is His goal;Only by sacrifice the soulAchieves redemption from the dust;Hard truth, our age appall’d descries,And, therefore, stubbornly denies.[Walks up and down the room.]To pray? Ah, pray—a word that slipsEasily over all men’s lips;A coin by all men lightly paid.What’s prayer? In storm and stress to shoutUnto the vague Unknown for aid.Upon Christ’s shoulders beg a place,And stretch both hands to Heaven for grace—While knee-deep in the slough of doubt.Ha! if there needed nothing moreI might like others dare to raiseMy hand and batter at His doorWho still is “terrible in praise.”—[Pauses and reflects.]And yet in uttermost despair,In shuddering sorrow’s deepest deep,When Alf at last had sunk to sleep,And all his mother’s kisses vainWon not the lost smile back again—What felt I—if it was not prayer?Whence came that trance, that ecstasy,That rushing music, like a blast,That sang afar and hurried past,Bore me aloft and set me free?Was it the ecstasy of prayer?Did I with God hold converse there?My anguish—did it reach his ears?Did he look down and see my tears?I know not. Barr’d is now the door,The darkness deeper than before,And nowhere, nowhere any light!Yes, She—who, darkling, yet hath sight—[Calls in anguish.]Light, Agnes—light, if light thou hast!

O expiation without end!—So wildly mingle, strangely blendThe threads that human fortune spin,—Sin tangled with the fruit of sin,Pouring its own pollution in,—That he who eyes their mazy flightSees foulest Wrong grow one with Right.[Goes to the window, and after a long look out.]My little child, lamb without stain,Thou for my mother’s deed wast slain;A shatter’d spirit bore His voiceWhose throne the crested heavens sustain,And bade me cast the die of choice.And this distracted soul had birthBecause my mother’s clave to earth.Thus the Lord, sowing fruit of crime,Reaps retribution in His time,And, reaching down from His high dome,Strikes the third generation home.[Starts back in horror from the window.]Yes, God is above all things just,And retribution is His goal;Only by sacrifice the soulAchieves redemption from the dust;Hard truth, our age appall’d descries,And, therefore, stubbornly denies.[Walks up and down the room.]To pray? Ah, pray—a word that slipsEasily over all men’s lips;A coin by all men lightly paid.What’s prayer? In storm and stress to shoutUnto the vague Unknown for aid.Upon Christ’s shoulders beg a place,And stretch both hands to Heaven for grace—While knee-deep in the slough of doubt.Ha! if there needed nothing moreI might like others dare to raiseMy hand and batter at His doorWho still is “terrible in praise.”—[Pauses and reflects.]And yet in uttermost despair,In shuddering sorrow’s deepest deep,When Alf at last had sunk to sleep,And all his mother’s kisses vainWon not the lost smile back again—What felt I—if it was not prayer?Whence came that trance, that ecstasy,That rushing music, like a blast,That sang afar and hurried past,Bore me aloft and set me free?Was it the ecstasy of prayer?Did I with God hold converse there?My anguish—did it reach his ears?Did he look down and see my tears?I know not. Barr’d is now the door,The darkness deeper than before,And nowhere, nowhere any light!Yes, She—who, darkling, yet hath sight—[Calls in anguish.]Light, Agnes—light, if light thou hast!

O expiation without end!—So wildly mingle, strangely blendThe threads that human fortune spin,—Sin tangled with the fruit of sin,Pouring its own pollution in,—That he who eyes their mazy flightSees foulest Wrong grow one with Right.[Goes to the window, and after a long look out.]My little child, lamb without stain,Thou for my mother’s deed wast slain;A shatter’d spirit bore His voiceWhose throne the crested heavens sustain,And bade me cast the die of choice.And this distracted soul had birthBecause my mother’s clave to earth.Thus the Lord, sowing fruit of crime,Reaps retribution in His time,And, reaching down from His high dome,Strikes the third generation home.[Starts back in horror from the window.]Yes, God is above all things just,And retribution is His goal;Only by sacrifice the soulAchieves redemption from the dust;Hard truth, our age appall’d descries,And, therefore, stubbornly denies.[Walks up and down the room.]To pray? Ah, pray—a word that slipsEasily over all men’s lips;A coin by all men lightly paid.What’s prayer? In storm and stress to shoutUnto the vague Unknown for aid.Upon Christ’s shoulders beg a place,And stretch both hands to Heaven for grace—While knee-deep in the slough of doubt.Ha! if there needed nothing moreI might like others dare to raiseMy hand and batter at His doorWho still is “terrible in praise.”—[Pauses and reflects.]And yet in uttermost despair,In shuddering sorrow’s deepest deep,When Alf at last had sunk to sleep,And all his mother’s kisses vainWon not the lost smile back again—What felt I—if it was not prayer?Whence came that trance, that ecstasy,That rushing music, like a blast,That sang afar and hurried past,Bore me aloft and set me free?Was it the ecstasy of prayer?Did I with God hold converse there?My anguish—did it reach his ears?Did he look down and see my tears?I know not. Barr’d is now the door,The darkness deeper than before,And nowhere, nowhere any light!Yes, She—who, darkling, yet hath sight—[Calls in anguish.]Light, Agnes—light, if light thou hast!

O expiation without end!—

So wildly mingle, strangely blend

The threads that human fortune spin,—

Sin tangled with the fruit of sin,

Pouring its own pollution in,—

That he who eyes their mazy flight

Sees foulest Wrong grow one with Right.

[Goes to the window, and after a long look out.]

My little child, lamb without stain,

Thou for my mother’s deed wast slain;

A shatter’d spirit bore His voice

Whose throne the crested heavens sustain,

And bade me cast the die of choice.

And this distracted soul had birth

Because my mother’s clave to earth.

Thus the Lord, sowing fruit of crime,

Reaps retribution in His time,

And, reaching down from His high dome,

Strikes the third generation home.

[Starts back in horror from the window.]

Yes, God is above all things just,

And retribution is His goal;

Only by sacrifice the soul

Achieves redemption from the dust;

Hard truth, our age appall’d descries,

And, therefore, stubbornly denies.

[Walks up and down the room.]

To pray? Ah, pray—a word that slips

Easily over all men’s lips;

A coin by all men lightly paid.

What’s prayer? In storm and stress to shout

Unto the vague Unknown for aid.

Upon Christ’s shoulders beg a place,

And stretch both hands to Heaven for grace—

While knee-deep in the slough of doubt.

Ha! if there needed nothing more

I might like others dare to raise

My hand and batter at His door

Who still is “terrible in praise.”—

[Pauses and reflects.]

And yet in uttermost despair,

In shuddering sorrow’s deepest deep,

When Alf at last had sunk to sleep,

And all his mother’s kisses vain

Won not the lost smile back again—

What felt I—if it was not prayer?

Whence came that trance, that ecstasy,

That rushing music, like a blast,

That sang afar and hurried past,

Bore me aloft and set me free?

Was it the ecstasy of prayer?

Did I with God hold converse there?

My anguish—did it reach his ears?

Did he look down and see my tears?

I know not. Barr’d is now the door,

The darkness deeper than before,

And nowhere, nowhere any light!

Yes, She—who, darkling, yet hath sight—

[Calls in anguish.]

Light, Agnes—light, if light thou hast!

Agnesopens the door and enters with the lighted Christmas candles; a bright glow falls over the room.

Agnesopens the door and enters with the lighted Christmas candles; a bright glow falls over the room.

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

Light!

Light!

Light!

Light!

Agnes.

Agnes.

Agnes.

See, the Yule light, Brand, at last!

See, the Yule light, Brand, at last!

See, the Yule light, Brand, at last!

See, the Yule light, Brand, at last!

Brand.[Softly.]

Brand.[Softly.]

Brand.

[Softly.]

The Yule light! Ha!

The Yule light! Ha!

The Yule light! Ha!

The Yule light! Ha!

Agnes.[Putting them on the table.]

Agnes.[Putting them on the table.]

Agnes.

[Putting them on the table.]

Have I been slow?

Have I been slow?

Have I been slow?

Have I been slow?

Brand.

Brand.

Brand.

No, no.

No, no.

No, no.

No, no.

Agnes.

Agnes.

Agnes.

Thou must be cold, Brand!

Thou must be cold, Brand!

Thou must be cold, Brand!

Thou must be cold, Brand!

Brand.[Loudly.]

Brand.[Loudly.]

Brand.

[Loudly.]

No!No!

No!No!

No!No!

No!No!

Agnes.[Smiling, fills the stove.]

Agnes.[Smiling, fills the stove.]

Agnes.

[Smiling, fills the stove.]

How stern! It is thy pride of will,That scorns the darkness and the chill.

How stern! It is thy pride of will,That scorns the darkness and the chill.

How stern! It is thy pride of will,That scorns the darkness and the chill.

How stern! It is thy pride of will,

That scorns the darkness and the chill.

Brand.[Walking up and down.]

Brand.[Walking up and down.]

Brand.

[Walking up and down.]

H’m, Will!

H’m, Will!

H’m, Will!

H’m, Will!

Agnes.[To herself as she decks the room.]

Agnes.[To herself as she decks the room.]

Agnes.

[To herself as she decks the room.]

Here must the candles stand.Last year he stretch’d his tiny handAfter the glancing, dancing light:He was so joyous and so bright;He started from his little chair,And ask’d me if a sun it were.[Moves the candles a little.]See! now the candle’s glow falls—there!Now from his bed my boy can seeThe window gleaming cheerily;Now can he peer out of the gloomSilently into our lit room—But, ah! the glass is dim; stay, stay—I’ll wipe the dew of tears awayAnd make it smile——[Dries the pane.

Here must the candles stand.Last year he stretch’d his tiny handAfter the glancing, dancing light:He was so joyous and so bright;He started from his little chair,And ask’d me if a sun it were.[Moves the candles a little.]See! now the candle’s glow falls—there!Now from his bed my boy can seeThe window gleaming cheerily;Now can he peer out of the gloomSilently into our lit room—But, ah! the glass is dim; stay, stay—I’ll wipe the dew of tears awayAnd make it smile——[Dries the pane.

Here must the candles stand.Last year he stretch’d his tiny handAfter the glancing, dancing light:He was so joyous and so bright;He started from his little chair,And ask’d me if a sun it were.[Moves the candles a little.]See! now the candle’s glow falls—there!Now from his bed my boy can seeThe window gleaming cheerily;Now can he peer out of the gloomSilently into our lit room—But, ah! the glass is dim; stay, stay—I’ll wipe the dew of tears awayAnd make it smile——[Dries the pane.

Here must the candles stand.

Last year he stretch’d his tiny hand

After the glancing, dancing light:

He was so joyous and so bright;

He started from his little chair,

And ask’d me if a sun it were.

[Moves the candles a little.]

See! now the candle’s glow falls—there!

Now from his bed my boy can see

The window gleaming cheerily;

Now can he peer out of the gloom

Silently into our lit room—

But, ah! the glass is dim; stay, stay—

I’ll wipe the dew of tears away

And make it smile——

[Dries the pane.

Brand.[Softly as he watches her.]

Brand.[Softly as he watches her.]

Brand.

[Softly as he watches her.]

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