The Dean.
The Dean.
The Dean.
God bless me, noNeed is an adequate excuse.
God bless me, noNeed is an adequate excuse.
God bless me, noNeed is an adequate excuse.
God bless me, no
Need is an adequate excuse.
The Mayor.
The Mayor.
The Mayor.
And then, to-morrow, when the glowOf agitation’s dead, or dying,What will it matter if the endWas gain’d by telling truth, or lying?
And then, to-morrow, when the glowOf agitation’s dead, or dying,What will it matter if the endWas gain’d by telling truth, or lying?
And then, to-morrow, when the glowOf agitation’s dead, or dying,What will it matter if the endWas gain’d by telling truth, or lying?
And then, to-morrow, when the glow
Of agitation’s dead, or dying,
What will it matter if the end
Was gain’d by telling truth, or lying?
The Dean.
The Dean.
The Dean.
I am no formalist, my friend.[Looks up into the wild.]But is’t not Brand that yonder dragsHis slow course upward?
I am no formalist, my friend.[Looks up into the wild.]But is’t not Brand that yonder dragsHis slow course upward?
I am no formalist, my friend.[Looks up into the wild.]But is’t not Brand that yonder dragsHis slow course upward?
I am no formalist, my friend.
[Looks up into the wild.]
But is’t not Brand that yonder drags
His slow course upward?
The Mayor.
The Mayor.
The Mayor.
Ay, you’re right!A lonely warrior off to fight!
Ay, you’re right!A lonely warrior off to fight!
Ay, you’re right!A lonely warrior off to fight!
Ay, you’re right!
A lonely warrior off to fight!
The Dean.
The Dean.
The Dean.
Nay, there’s another too—that lagsFar in the rear!
Nay, there’s another too—that lagsFar in the rear!
Nay, there’s another too—that lagsFar in the rear!
Nay, there’s another too—that lags
Far in the rear!
The Mayor.
The Mayor.
The Mayor.
Why;—that is Gerd;The herdsman’s worthy of the herd.
Why;—that is Gerd;The herdsman’s worthy of the herd.
Why;—that is Gerd;The herdsman’s worthy of the herd.
Why;—that is Gerd;
The herdsman’s worthy of the herd.
The Dean.[Facetiously.]
The Dean.[Facetiously.]
The Dean.
[Facetiously.]
When he has still’d his losing whim,This is the epitaph for him:“Here lieth Brand; his tale’s a sad one;One soul he saved,—and that a mad one!”
When he has still’d his losing whim,This is the epitaph for him:“Here lieth Brand; his tale’s a sad one;One soul he saved,—and that a mad one!”
When he has still’d his losing whim,This is the epitaph for him:“Here lieth Brand; his tale’s a sad one;One soul he saved,—and that a mad one!”
When he has still’d his losing whim,
This is the epitaph for him:
“Here lieth Brand; his tale’s a sad one;
One soul he saved,—and that a mad one!”
The Mayor.[With his finger to his nose.]
The Mayor.[With his finger to his nose.]
The Mayor.
[With his finger to his nose.]
But, on reflection, I have someMisgivings that the folk’s decreeA little lack’d humanity.
But, on reflection, I have someMisgivings that the folk’s decreeA little lack’d humanity.
But, on reflection, I have someMisgivings that the folk’s decreeA little lack’d humanity.
But, on reflection, I have some
Misgivings that the folk’s decree
A little lack’d humanity.
The Dean.[Shrugging his shoulders.]
The Dean.[Shrugging his shoulders.]
The Dean.
[Shrugging his shoulders.]
Vox populi vox Dei.Come!
Vox populi vox Dei.Come!
Vox populi vox Dei.Come!
Vox populi vox Dei.Come!
[They go.
High up among the mountains. A storm is rising and chasing the clouds heavily over the snow-slopes; black peaks and summits appear here and there, and are veiled again by the mist.
Brandcomes, bleeding and broken, up the mountain.
Brand.[Stops and looks backward.]
Brand.[Stops and looks backward.]
Brand.
[Stops and looks backward.]
From the vale they follow’d thronging,Never one has reached the height.Through all bosoms thrill’d the longingFor a greater Day’s dawn-light;Through all souls subduing strodeThe alarum-call of God.But the sacrifice they dread!Will, the weakling, hides his head;—Oneman died for them of yore,—Cowardice is crime no more![Sinks down on a stone, and looks withshrinking gaze around.]Oft I shudder’d at their doom;And I walk’d, with horror quivering,As a little child walks shiveringAmid shrieking shapes that loomIn a dim and haunted room.But I check’d my bosom’s quaking,And bethought me, and consoled it:Out of doors the day is breaking,Not of night it is, this gloom,But the shutters barr’d enfold it;And I thought, the day inwelling,Rich with summer’s golden bloom,Shall anon prevail, expellingAll the darkness that is dwellingIn the dim and haunted room.O how bitter my dismay!Pitchy darkness on me broke,—And, without, a nerveless folkSat forlorn by fjord and bay,Dim traditions treasuringWhile their sotted souls decay.Even as, year by year, the kingTreasured up his Snefrid dead,Loosed the linen shroud o’erspreadBy her mute heart listening low,Still upon hope’s fragments fed,Thinking, “Nowthe roses redIn her pallid ashes blow!”None, like him, arose, and gaveThe grave’s debt unto the grave;None among them wise to know:“Dreaming cannot kindle dust,Down into the earth it must,Dust is only made to breedNurture for the new-sown seed.”Night, black night,—and night againOver children, women, men!O could I with levin-flameSave them from the straw-death’s shame![Leaps up.]Gloomy visions I see sweepLike the Wild Hunt through the night.Lo, the Time is Tempest-dight,Calls for heroes, death to dare,Calls for naked steel to leap,And for scabbards to hang bare;—Kinsfolk, lo, to battle riding,While their gentle brothers, hiding,From the hat of darkness peep.And yet more I do divine—All the horror of their shame,—Men that shriek and wives that whine,Deaf to every cry and claim,See them on their brows imprinting“Poor folks sea-bound” for their name,“Humble farthings of God’s minting!”Pale they listen to the fray,—Willing-weakness for their shield.—Rainbow o’er the mead of May,Flag, where fliest thou now afield?Where’s that tricolor to-day,—Which the wind of myriad song,Beat and bellied from the mastTill a zealot king at lastSplit it into teeth and tongue?But you used the tongue to brag;And what boots the toothed flagIf the dragon dares not bite?Would the folk had spared those cheers,And the zealot king those shears!Four-square flag of peace suffices,When a stranded craft capsizes,To give warning of her plight!Direr visions, worse foreboding,Glare upon me through the gloom!Britain’s smoke-cloud sinks corrodingOn the land in noisome fume;Smirches all its tender bloom,All its gracious verdure dashes,Sweeping low with breath of bane,Stealing sunlight from the plain,Showering down like rain of ashesOn the city of God’s doom.—Fouler featured men are grown;—Dropping water’s humming droneEchoes through the mine’s recesses:Bustling, smug, a pigmy packPlucks its prey from ore’s embraces,Walks with crooked soul and back,Glares like dwarfs with greedy eyesFor the golden glittering lies;Speechless souls with lips unsmiling,Hearts that fall of brothers rends not,Nor their own to fury frets,Hammer-wielding, coining, filing;Light’s last gleam forlornly flies;For this bastard folk forgetsThat the need of willing ends notWhen the power of willing dies!Direr visions, direr doom,Glare upon me through the gloom.Craft, the wolf, with howl and yell,Bays at Wisdom, sun of earth;Cries of ruin ring to North,Call to arms by fjord and fell;And the pigmy, quaking, grim,Hisses: “What is that to him?”Let the other nations glow,Let the mighty meet the foe,We can ill afford to bleed,—We are weak, may fairly pleadFrom a giants’ war exemption,Need not offer All as meedFor our fraction of Redemption.Not for us the cup He drank,Not for us the thorny wreathIn His temples drove its teeth,Not for us the spear-shaft sankIn the Side whose life was still.Not for us the burning thrillOf the nails that clove and tore.We, the weak, the least accounted,Battle-summons may ignore!Not for us the Cross He mounted!Just the stirrup-slash’s stain,Just the gash the cobbler scoredIn the shoulder of the Lord,Is our portion of His pain![Throws himself down in the snow and covers his face; presently he looks up.]Was I dreaming! Dream I still?Mist-enshrouded is the hill.Were those visions but the vainPhantoms of a fever’d brain?Is the image clean outwornWhereunto Man’s soul was born?Is the Maker’s spirit fled——[Listening.]Ha, what song breaks overhead?
From the vale they follow’d thronging,Never one has reached the height.Through all bosoms thrill’d the longingFor a greater Day’s dawn-light;Through all souls subduing strodeThe alarum-call of God.But the sacrifice they dread!Will, the weakling, hides his head;—Oneman died for them of yore,—Cowardice is crime no more![Sinks down on a stone, and looks withshrinking gaze around.]Oft I shudder’d at their doom;And I walk’d, with horror quivering,As a little child walks shiveringAmid shrieking shapes that loomIn a dim and haunted room.But I check’d my bosom’s quaking,And bethought me, and consoled it:Out of doors the day is breaking,Not of night it is, this gloom,But the shutters barr’d enfold it;And I thought, the day inwelling,Rich with summer’s golden bloom,Shall anon prevail, expellingAll the darkness that is dwellingIn the dim and haunted room.O how bitter my dismay!Pitchy darkness on me broke,—And, without, a nerveless folkSat forlorn by fjord and bay,Dim traditions treasuringWhile their sotted souls decay.Even as, year by year, the kingTreasured up his Snefrid dead,Loosed the linen shroud o’erspreadBy her mute heart listening low,Still upon hope’s fragments fed,Thinking, “Nowthe roses redIn her pallid ashes blow!”None, like him, arose, and gaveThe grave’s debt unto the grave;None among them wise to know:“Dreaming cannot kindle dust,Down into the earth it must,Dust is only made to breedNurture for the new-sown seed.”Night, black night,—and night againOver children, women, men!O could I with levin-flameSave them from the straw-death’s shame![Leaps up.]Gloomy visions I see sweepLike the Wild Hunt through the night.Lo, the Time is Tempest-dight,Calls for heroes, death to dare,Calls for naked steel to leap,And for scabbards to hang bare;—Kinsfolk, lo, to battle riding,While their gentle brothers, hiding,From the hat of darkness peep.And yet more I do divine—All the horror of their shame,—Men that shriek and wives that whine,Deaf to every cry and claim,See them on their brows imprinting“Poor folks sea-bound” for their name,“Humble farthings of God’s minting!”Pale they listen to the fray,—Willing-weakness for their shield.—Rainbow o’er the mead of May,Flag, where fliest thou now afield?Where’s that tricolor to-day,—Which the wind of myriad song,Beat and bellied from the mastTill a zealot king at lastSplit it into teeth and tongue?But you used the tongue to brag;And what boots the toothed flagIf the dragon dares not bite?Would the folk had spared those cheers,And the zealot king those shears!Four-square flag of peace suffices,When a stranded craft capsizes,To give warning of her plight!Direr visions, worse foreboding,Glare upon me through the gloom!Britain’s smoke-cloud sinks corrodingOn the land in noisome fume;Smirches all its tender bloom,All its gracious verdure dashes,Sweeping low with breath of bane,Stealing sunlight from the plain,Showering down like rain of ashesOn the city of God’s doom.—Fouler featured men are grown;—Dropping water’s humming droneEchoes through the mine’s recesses:Bustling, smug, a pigmy packPlucks its prey from ore’s embraces,Walks with crooked soul and back,Glares like dwarfs with greedy eyesFor the golden glittering lies;Speechless souls with lips unsmiling,Hearts that fall of brothers rends not,Nor their own to fury frets,Hammer-wielding, coining, filing;Light’s last gleam forlornly flies;For this bastard folk forgetsThat the need of willing ends notWhen the power of willing dies!Direr visions, direr doom,Glare upon me through the gloom.Craft, the wolf, with howl and yell,Bays at Wisdom, sun of earth;Cries of ruin ring to North,Call to arms by fjord and fell;And the pigmy, quaking, grim,Hisses: “What is that to him?”Let the other nations glow,Let the mighty meet the foe,We can ill afford to bleed,—We are weak, may fairly pleadFrom a giants’ war exemption,Need not offer All as meedFor our fraction of Redemption.Not for us the cup He drank,Not for us the thorny wreathIn His temples drove its teeth,Not for us the spear-shaft sankIn the Side whose life was still.Not for us the burning thrillOf the nails that clove and tore.We, the weak, the least accounted,Battle-summons may ignore!Not for us the Cross He mounted!Just the stirrup-slash’s stain,Just the gash the cobbler scoredIn the shoulder of the Lord,Is our portion of His pain![Throws himself down in the snow and covers his face; presently he looks up.]Was I dreaming! Dream I still?Mist-enshrouded is the hill.Were those visions but the vainPhantoms of a fever’d brain?Is the image clean outwornWhereunto Man’s soul was born?Is the Maker’s spirit fled——[Listening.]Ha, what song breaks overhead?
From the vale they follow’d thronging,Never one has reached the height.Through all bosoms thrill’d the longingFor a greater Day’s dawn-light;Through all souls subduing strodeThe alarum-call of God.But the sacrifice they dread!Will, the weakling, hides his head;—Oneman died for them of yore,—Cowardice is crime no more![Sinks down on a stone, and looks withshrinking gaze around.]Oft I shudder’d at their doom;And I walk’d, with horror quivering,As a little child walks shiveringAmid shrieking shapes that loomIn a dim and haunted room.But I check’d my bosom’s quaking,And bethought me, and consoled it:Out of doors the day is breaking,Not of night it is, this gloom,But the shutters barr’d enfold it;And I thought, the day inwelling,Rich with summer’s golden bloom,Shall anon prevail, expellingAll the darkness that is dwellingIn the dim and haunted room.O how bitter my dismay!Pitchy darkness on me broke,—And, without, a nerveless folkSat forlorn by fjord and bay,Dim traditions treasuringWhile their sotted souls decay.Even as, year by year, the kingTreasured up his Snefrid dead,Loosed the linen shroud o’erspreadBy her mute heart listening low,Still upon hope’s fragments fed,Thinking, “Nowthe roses redIn her pallid ashes blow!”None, like him, arose, and gaveThe grave’s debt unto the grave;None among them wise to know:“Dreaming cannot kindle dust,Down into the earth it must,Dust is only made to breedNurture for the new-sown seed.”Night, black night,—and night againOver children, women, men!O could I with levin-flameSave them from the straw-death’s shame![Leaps up.]Gloomy visions I see sweepLike the Wild Hunt through the night.Lo, the Time is Tempest-dight,Calls for heroes, death to dare,Calls for naked steel to leap,And for scabbards to hang bare;—Kinsfolk, lo, to battle riding,While their gentle brothers, hiding,From the hat of darkness peep.And yet more I do divine—All the horror of their shame,—Men that shriek and wives that whine,Deaf to every cry and claim,See them on their brows imprinting“Poor folks sea-bound” for their name,“Humble farthings of God’s minting!”Pale they listen to the fray,—Willing-weakness for their shield.—Rainbow o’er the mead of May,Flag, where fliest thou now afield?Where’s that tricolor to-day,—Which the wind of myriad song,Beat and bellied from the mastTill a zealot king at lastSplit it into teeth and tongue?But you used the tongue to brag;And what boots the toothed flagIf the dragon dares not bite?Would the folk had spared those cheers,And the zealot king those shears!Four-square flag of peace suffices,When a stranded craft capsizes,To give warning of her plight!Direr visions, worse foreboding,Glare upon me through the gloom!Britain’s smoke-cloud sinks corrodingOn the land in noisome fume;Smirches all its tender bloom,All its gracious verdure dashes,Sweeping low with breath of bane,Stealing sunlight from the plain,Showering down like rain of ashesOn the city of God’s doom.—Fouler featured men are grown;—Dropping water’s humming droneEchoes through the mine’s recesses:Bustling, smug, a pigmy packPlucks its prey from ore’s embraces,Walks with crooked soul and back,Glares like dwarfs with greedy eyesFor the golden glittering lies;Speechless souls with lips unsmiling,Hearts that fall of brothers rends not,Nor their own to fury frets,Hammer-wielding, coining, filing;Light’s last gleam forlornly flies;For this bastard folk forgetsThat the need of willing ends notWhen the power of willing dies!Direr visions, direr doom,Glare upon me through the gloom.Craft, the wolf, with howl and yell,Bays at Wisdom, sun of earth;Cries of ruin ring to North,Call to arms by fjord and fell;And the pigmy, quaking, grim,Hisses: “What is that to him?”Let the other nations glow,Let the mighty meet the foe,We can ill afford to bleed,—We are weak, may fairly pleadFrom a giants’ war exemption,Need not offer All as meedFor our fraction of Redemption.Not for us the cup He drank,Not for us the thorny wreathIn His temples drove its teeth,Not for us the spear-shaft sankIn the Side whose life was still.Not for us the burning thrillOf the nails that clove and tore.We, the weak, the least accounted,Battle-summons may ignore!Not for us the Cross He mounted!Just the stirrup-slash’s stain,Just the gash the cobbler scoredIn the shoulder of the Lord,Is our portion of His pain![Throws himself down in the snow and covers his face; presently he looks up.]Was I dreaming! Dream I still?Mist-enshrouded is the hill.Were those visions but the vainPhantoms of a fever’d brain?Is the image clean outwornWhereunto Man’s soul was born?Is the Maker’s spirit fled——[Listening.]Ha, what song breaks overhead?
From the vale they follow’d thronging,
Never one has reached the height.
Through all bosoms thrill’d the longing
For a greater Day’s dawn-light;
Through all souls subduing strode
The alarum-call of God.
But the sacrifice they dread!
Will, the weakling, hides his head;—
Oneman died for them of yore,—
Cowardice is crime no more!
[Sinks down on a stone, and looks with
shrinking gaze around.]
Oft I shudder’d at their doom;
And I walk’d, with horror quivering,
As a little child walks shivering
Amid shrieking shapes that loom
In a dim and haunted room.
But I check’d my bosom’s quaking,
And bethought me, and consoled it:
Out of doors the day is breaking,
Not of night it is, this gloom,
But the shutters barr’d enfold it;
And I thought, the day inwelling,
Rich with summer’s golden bloom,
Shall anon prevail, expelling
All the darkness that is dwelling
In the dim and haunted room.
O how bitter my dismay!
Pitchy darkness on me broke,—
And, without, a nerveless folk
Sat forlorn by fjord and bay,
Dim traditions treasuring
While their sotted souls decay.
Even as, year by year, the king
Treasured up his Snefrid dead,
Loosed the linen shroud o’erspread
By her mute heart listening low,
Still upon hope’s fragments fed,
Thinking, “Nowthe roses red
In her pallid ashes blow!”
None, like him, arose, and gave
The grave’s debt unto the grave;
None among them wise to know:
“Dreaming cannot kindle dust,
Down into the earth it must,
Dust is only made to breed
Nurture for the new-sown seed.”
Night, black night,—and night again
Over children, women, men!
O could I with levin-flame
Save them from the straw-death’s shame!
[Leaps up.]
Gloomy visions I see sweep
Like the Wild Hunt through the night.
Lo, the Time is Tempest-dight,
Calls for heroes, death to dare,
Calls for naked steel to leap,
And for scabbards to hang bare;—
Kinsfolk, lo, to battle riding,
While their gentle brothers, hiding,
From the hat of darkness peep.
And yet more I do divine—
All the horror of their shame,—
Men that shriek and wives that whine,
Deaf to every cry and claim,
See them on their brows imprinting
“Poor folks sea-bound” for their name,
“Humble farthings of God’s minting!”
Pale they listen to the fray,—
Willing-weakness for their shield.—
Rainbow o’er the mead of May,
Flag, where fliest thou now afield?
Where’s that tricolor to-day,—
Which the wind of myriad song,
Beat and bellied from the mast
Till a zealot king at last
Split it into teeth and tongue?
But you used the tongue to brag;
And what boots the toothed flag
If the dragon dares not bite?
Would the folk had spared those cheers,
And the zealot king those shears!
Four-square flag of peace suffices,
When a stranded craft capsizes,
To give warning of her plight!
Direr visions, worse foreboding,
Glare upon me through the gloom!
Britain’s smoke-cloud sinks corroding
On the land in noisome fume;
Smirches all its tender bloom,
All its gracious verdure dashes,
Sweeping low with breath of bane,
Stealing sunlight from the plain,
Showering down like rain of ashes
On the city of God’s doom.—
Fouler featured men are grown;—
Dropping water’s humming drone
Echoes through the mine’s recesses:
Bustling, smug, a pigmy pack
Plucks its prey from ore’s embraces,
Walks with crooked soul and back,
Glares like dwarfs with greedy eyes
For the golden glittering lies;
Speechless souls with lips unsmiling,
Hearts that fall of brothers rends not,
Nor their own to fury frets,
Hammer-wielding, coining, filing;
Light’s last gleam forlornly flies;
For this bastard folk forgets
That the need of willing ends not
When the power of willing dies!
Direr visions, direr doom,
Glare upon me through the gloom.
Craft, the wolf, with howl and yell,
Bays at Wisdom, sun of earth;
Cries of ruin ring to North,
Call to arms by fjord and fell;
And the pigmy, quaking, grim,
Hisses: “What is that to him?”
Let the other nations glow,
Let the mighty meet the foe,
We can ill afford to bleed,—
We are weak, may fairly plead
From a giants’ war exemption,
Need not offer All as meed
For our fraction of Redemption.
Not for us the cup He drank,
Not for us the thorny wreath
In His temples drove its teeth,
Not for us the spear-shaft sank
In the Side whose life was still.
Not for us the burning thrill
Of the nails that clove and tore.
We, the weak, the least accounted,
Battle-summons may ignore!
Not for us the Cross He mounted!
Just the stirrup-slash’s stain,
Just the gash the cobbler scored
In the shoulder of the Lord,
Is our portion of His pain!
[Throws himself down in the snow and covers his face; presently he looks up.]
Was I dreaming! Dream I still?
Mist-enshrouded is the hill.
Were those visions but the vain
Phantoms of a fever’d brain?
Is the image clean outworn
Whereunto Man’s soul was born?
Is the Maker’s spirit fled——
[Listening.]
Ha, what song breaks overhead?
Invisible Choir.[In the sough of the storm.]
Invisible Choir.[In the sough of the storm.]
Invisible Choir.
[In the sough of the storm.]
Never shalt thou win His spirit;Thou in mortal flesh wast born:Spurn his bidding or revere it;Equally thou art forlorn.
Never shalt thou win His spirit;Thou in mortal flesh wast born:Spurn his bidding or revere it;Equally thou art forlorn.
Never shalt thou win His spirit;Thou in mortal flesh wast born:Spurn his bidding or revere it;Equally thou art forlorn.
Never shalt thou win His spirit;
Thou in mortal flesh wast born:
Spurn his bidding or revere it;
Equally thou art forlorn.
Brand.[Repeats the words, and says softly.]
Brand.[Repeats the words, and says softly.]
Brand.
[Repeats the words, and says softly.]
Woe’s me, woe; I well may fear it!Stood He not, and saw me pray,Sternly smote my prayer away?All I loved He has demanded,All the ways of light seal’d fast,Made me battle single-handed,And be overthrown at last!
Woe’s me, woe; I well may fear it!Stood He not, and saw me pray,Sternly smote my prayer away?All I loved He has demanded,All the ways of light seal’d fast,Made me battle single-handed,And be overthrown at last!
Woe’s me, woe; I well may fear it!Stood He not, and saw me pray,Sternly smote my prayer away?All I loved He has demanded,All the ways of light seal’d fast,Made me battle single-handed,And be overthrown at last!
Woe’s me, woe; I well may fear it!
Stood He not, and saw me pray,
Sternly smote my prayer away?
All I loved He has demanded,
All the ways of light seal’d fast,
Made me battle single-handed,
And be overthrown at last!
The Choir.[Louder, above him.]
The Choir.[Louder, above him.]
The Choir.
[Louder, above him.]
Worm, thou mayst not win His spirit,—For Death’s cup thou hast consumed;Fear His Will, or do not fear it,Equally thy work is doom’d.
Worm, thou mayst not win His spirit,—For Death’s cup thou hast consumed;Fear His Will, or do not fear it,Equally thy work is doom’d.
Worm, thou mayst not win His spirit,—For Death’s cup thou hast consumed;Fear His Will, or do not fear it,Equally thy work is doom’d.
Worm, thou mayst not win His spirit,—
For Death’s cup thou hast consumed;
Fear His Will, or do not fear it,
Equally thy work is doom’d.
Brand.[Softly.]
Brand.[Softly.]
Brand.
[Softly.]
Agnes, Alf, the gladsome lifeWhen unrest and pain I knew not—I exchanged for tears and strife,In my own heart plunged the knife,—But the fiend of evil slew not.
Agnes, Alf, the gladsome lifeWhen unrest and pain I knew not—I exchanged for tears and strife,In my own heart plunged the knife,—But the fiend of evil slew not.
Agnes, Alf, the gladsome lifeWhen unrest and pain I knew not—I exchanged for tears and strife,In my own heart plunged the knife,—But the fiend of evil slew not.
Agnes, Alf, the gladsome life
When unrest and pain I knew not—
I exchanged for tears and strife,
In my own heart plunged the knife,—
But the fiend of evil slew not.
The Choir.[Tender and alluring.]
The Choir.[Tender and alluring.]
The Choir.
[Tender and alluring.]
Dreamer, thine is not His spirit,Nought to Him thy gifts are worth;Heaven thou never shalt inherit,Earth-born creature, live for Earth!
Dreamer, thine is not His spirit,Nought to Him thy gifts are worth;Heaven thou never shalt inherit,Earth-born creature, live for Earth!
Dreamer, thine is not His spirit,Nought to Him thy gifts are worth;Heaven thou never shalt inherit,Earth-born creature, live for Earth!
Dreamer, thine is not His spirit,
Nought to Him thy gifts are worth;
Heaven thou never shalt inherit,
Earth-born creature, live for Earth!
Brand.[Breaks into soft weeping.]
Brand.[Breaks into soft weeping.]
Brand.
[Breaks into soft weeping.]
Alf and Agnes, come unto me!Lone I sit upon this peak!Keen the north wind pierces through me,Phantoms seize me, chill ones, meek——!
Alf and Agnes, come unto me!Lone I sit upon this peak!Keen the north wind pierces through me,Phantoms seize me, chill ones, meek——!
Alf and Agnes, come unto me!Lone I sit upon this peak!Keen the north wind pierces through me,Phantoms seize me, chill ones, meek——!
Alf and Agnes, come unto me!
Lone I sit upon this peak!
Keen the north wind pierces through me,
Phantoms seize me, chill ones, meek——!
He looks up; a glimmering space opens and clears in the mist; theApparitionof aWomanstands in it, brightly clad, with a cloak over its shoulders. It isAgnes.
The Phantom.[Smiles, and spreads its arms towards him.]
The Phantom.[Smiles, and spreads its arms towards him.]
The Phantom.
[Smiles, and spreads its arms towards him.]
See, again, Brand, I have found thee!
See, again, Brand, I have found thee!
See, again, Brand, I have found thee!
See, again, Brand, I have found thee!
Brand.[Starting up in bewilderment.]
Brand.[Starting up in bewilderment.]
Brand.
[Starting up in bewilderment.]
Agnes! Agnes! What is this?
Agnes! Agnes! What is this?
Agnes! Agnes! What is this?
Agnes! Agnes! What is this?
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Dearest, it is thy releaseFrom the fever’d dreams that bound thee!
Dearest, it is thy releaseFrom the fever’d dreams that bound thee!
Dearest, it is thy releaseFrom the fever’d dreams that bound thee!
Dearest, it is thy release
From the fever’d dreams that bound thee!
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Agnes! Agnes!
Agnes! Agnes!
Agnes! Agnes!
Agnes! Agnes!
[He is hurrying towards her.
The Phantom.[Screams.]
The Phantom.[Screams.]
The Phantom.
[Screams.]
Cross not! DeepRolls between us the abyss,Where the mountain-torrents sweep![Tenderly.]Thou dost dream not, neither sleep,Nor with phantoms wagest war;Dear, by sickness thou wast wasted,—Frenzy’s bitter cup hast tasted,Dreamt, thy wife had fled afar.
Cross not! DeepRolls between us the abyss,Where the mountain-torrents sweep![Tenderly.]Thou dost dream not, neither sleep,Nor with phantoms wagest war;Dear, by sickness thou wast wasted,—Frenzy’s bitter cup hast tasted,Dreamt, thy wife had fled afar.
Cross not! DeepRolls between us the abyss,Where the mountain-torrents sweep![Tenderly.]Thou dost dream not, neither sleep,Nor with phantoms wagest war;Dear, by sickness thou wast wasted,—Frenzy’s bitter cup hast tasted,Dreamt, thy wife had fled afar.
Cross not! Deep
Rolls between us the abyss,
Where the mountain-torrents sweep!
[Tenderly.]
Thou dost dream not, neither sleep,
Nor with phantoms wagest war;
Dear, by sickness thou wast wasted,—
Frenzy’s bitter cup hast tasted,
Dreamt, thy wife had fled afar.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Oh, thou livest! Blessed be——!
Oh, thou livest! Blessed be——!
Oh, thou livest! Blessed be——!
Oh, thou livest! Blessed be——!
The Phantom.[Hastily.]
The Phantom.[Hastily.]
The Phantom.
[Hastily.]
Peace! Of that no murmur now!Follow fast, the moments press.
Peace! Of that no murmur now!Follow fast, the moments press.
Peace! Of that no murmur now!Follow fast, the moments press.
Peace! Of that no murmur now!
Follow fast, the moments press.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Oh, but Alf!
Oh, but Alf!
Oh, but Alf!
Oh, but Alf!
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Alive, no less.
Alive, no less.
Alive, no less.
Alive, no less.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Lives!
Lives!
Lives!
Lives!
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
And with unfaded brow!All thy sorrows did but seem!All thy battles were a dream,Alf is with thy mother; sheVigorous yet, and stalwart he;Still the old Church stands entire;Pluck it down if thou desire;—And the dalesmen still drudge onAs they did in good days gone.
And with unfaded brow!All thy sorrows did but seem!All thy battles were a dream,Alf is with thy mother; sheVigorous yet, and stalwart he;Still the old Church stands entire;Pluck it down if thou desire;—And the dalesmen still drudge onAs they did in good days gone.
And with unfaded brow!All thy sorrows did but seem!All thy battles were a dream,Alf is with thy mother; sheVigorous yet, and stalwart he;Still the old Church stands entire;Pluck it down if thou desire;—And the dalesmen still drudge onAs they did in good days gone.
And with unfaded brow!
All thy sorrows did but seem!
All thy battles were a dream,
Alf is with thy mother; she
Vigorous yet, and stalwart he;
Still the old Church stands entire;
Pluck it down if thou desire;—
And the dalesmen still drudge on
As they did in good days gone.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
“Good!”
“Good!”
“Good!”
“Good!”
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
For days of peace they were.
For days of peace they were.
For days of peace they were.
For days of peace they were.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
“Peace?”
“Peace?”
“Peace?”
“Peace?”
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
O haste thee, Brand, O fly!
O haste thee, Brand, O fly!
O haste thee, Brand, O fly!
O haste thee, Brand, O fly!
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Woe, I dream!
Woe, I dream!
Woe, I dream!
Woe, I dream!
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Thy dream’s gone by,But thou needest sheltering care——
Thy dream’s gone by,But thou needest sheltering care——
Thy dream’s gone by,But thou needest sheltering care——
Thy dream’s gone by,
But thou needest sheltering care——
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Ah me, not yet;Still the fell dream lies in wait.Once again from wife and childIt shall sweep thee, cloud-beguiled,Once again thy soul obscure,—If thou wilt not seek the cure.
Ah me, not yet;Still the fell dream lies in wait.Once again from wife and childIt shall sweep thee, cloud-beguiled,Once again thy soul obscure,—If thou wilt not seek the cure.
Ah me, not yet;Still the fell dream lies in wait.Once again from wife and childIt shall sweep thee, cloud-beguiled,Once again thy soul obscure,—If thou wilt not seek the cure.
Ah me, not yet;
Still the fell dream lies in wait.
Once again from wife and child
It shall sweep thee, cloud-beguiled,
Once again thy soul obscure,—
If thou wilt not seek the cure.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Oh, vouchsafe it!
Oh, vouchsafe it!
Oh, vouchsafe it!
Oh, vouchsafe it!
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Thou availest,Thou alone, that cure to reach.
Thou availest,Thou alone, that cure to reach.
Thou availest,Thou alone, that cure to reach.
Thou availest,
Thou alone, that cure to reach.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Name it then!
Name it then!
Name it then!
Name it then!
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The aged leech,Who has conn’d so many a page,—The unfathomably sage,He discovered where thou ailest.All the phantoms of thy strife,Three wordsconjured them to life.Them thou boldly must recall,From thy memory efface them,From thy conscience blot, erase them;At their bidding, lo, thou burnestIn this maddening blast of bane;—O forget them, if thou yearnestTo make white thy soul again!
The aged leech,Who has conn’d so many a page,—The unfathomably sage,He discovered where thou ailest.All the phantoms of thy strife,Three wordsconjured them to life.Them thou boldly must recall,From thy memory efface them,From thy conscience blot, erase them;At their bidding, lo, thou burnestIn this maddening blast of bane;—O forget them, if thou yearnestTo make white thy soul again!
The aged leech,Who has conn’d so many a page,—The unfathomably sage,He discovered where thou ailest.All the phantoms of thy strife,Three wordsconjured them to life.Them thou boldly must recall,From thy memory efface them,From thy conscience blot, erase them;At their bidding, lo, thou burnestIn this maddening blast of bane;—O forget them, if thou yearnestTo make white thy soul again!
The aged leech,
Who has conn’d so many a page,—
The unfathomably sage,
He discovered where thou ailest.
All the phantoms of thy strife,
Three wordsconjured them to life.
Them thou boldly must recall,
From thy memory efface them,
From thy conscience blot, erase them;
At their bidding, lo, thou burnest
In this maddening blast of bane;—
O forget them, if thou yearnest
To make white thy soul again!
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Say, what are they?
Say, what are they?
Say, what are they?
Say, what are they?
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Nought or all.
Nought or all.
Nought or all.
Nought or all.
Brand.[Reeling back.]
Brand.[Reeling back.]
Brand.
[Reeling back.]
Is it so?
Is it so?
Is it so?
Is it so?
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
So sure as IAm alive, and thou wilt die.
So sure as IAm alive, and thou wilt die.
So sure as IAm alive, and thou wilt die.
So sure as I
Am alive, and thou wilt die.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Woe on us! The sword once moreSwings above us, as before!
Woe on us! The sword once moreSwings above us, as before!
Woe on us! The sword once moreSwings above us, as before!
Woe on us! The sword once more
Swings above us, as before!
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Brand, be kind; my breast is warm;Clasp me close in thy strong arm;—Let us fly where summer’s sun——
Brand, be kind; my breast is warm;Clasp me close in thy strong arm;—Let us fly where summer’s sun——
Brand, be kind; my breast is warm;Clasp me close in thy strong arm;—Let us fly where summer’s sun——
Brand, be kind; my breast is warm;
Clasp me close in thy strong arm;—
Let us fly where summer’s sun——
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Never more that plague shall bind me.
Never more that plague shall bind me.
Never more that plague shall bind me.
Never more that plague shall bind me.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Ah, Brand, all is not yet won.
Ah, Brand, all is not yet won.
Ah, Brand, all is not yet won.
Ah, Brand, all is not yet won.
Brand.[Shaking his head.]
Brand.[Shaking his head.]
Brand.
[Shaking his head.]
I have flung that dream behind me.Me no more that phantom-strife’sHorror thrills;—but Life’s! but Life’s!
I have flung that dream behind me.Me no more that phantom-strife’sHorror thrills;—but Life’s! but Life’s!
I have flung that dream behind me.Me no more that phantom-strife’sHorror thrills;—but Life’s! but Life’s!
I have flung that dream behind me.
Me no more that phantom-strife’s
Horror thrills;—but Life’s! but Life’s!
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Life’s?
Life’s?
Life’s?
Life’s?
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Come, Agnes, where I lead!
Come, Agnes, where I lead!
Come, Agnes, where I lead!
Come, Agnes, where I lead!
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Brand, what is it thou wilt do?
Brand, what is it thou wilt do?
Brand, what is it thou wilt do?
Brand, what is it thou wilt do?
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
What I must: thedreammaketrue,—Live the vision into deed.
What I must: thedreammaketrue,—Live the vision into deed.
What I must: thedreammaketrue,—Live the vision into deed.
What I must: thedreammaketrue,—
Live the vision into deed.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Ha, thou canst not! Think but whitherThat road led thee.
Ha, thou canst not! Think but whitherThat road led thee.
Ha, thou canst not! Think but whitherThat road led thee.
Ha, thou canst not! Think but whither
That road led thee.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Thither! Thither!
Thither! Thither!
Thither! Thither!
Thither! Thither!
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
What thou dared’st, dream-beguiled,Wilt thou, whole and waking, dare?
What thou dared’st, dream-beguiled,Wilt thou, whole and waking, dare?
What thou dared’st, dream-beguiled,Wilt thou, whole and waking, dare?
What thou dared’st, dream-beguiled,
Wilt thou, whole and waking, dare?
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Whole and waking.
Whole and waking.
Whole and waking.
Whole and waking.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Lose the child?
Lose the child?
Lose the child?
Lose the child?
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Lose it.
Lose it.
Lose it.
Lose it.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Brand!
Brand!
Brand!
Brand!
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
I must.
I must.
I must.
I must.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
And tearMe all bleeding from the snare?With the rods of sacrificeScourge me to the death?
And tearMe all bleeding from the snare?With the rods of sacrificeScourge me to the death?
And tearMe all bleeding from the snare?With the rods of sacrificeScourge me to the death?
And tear
Me all bleeding from the snare?
With the rods of sacrifice
Scourge me to the death?
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Imust.must.
Imust.must.
Imust.must.
Imust.must.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Quench the glow of sunny skies,Turn all bright things into dust,Never pluck life’s fruitage fair,Never be upborne by song?Ah, so many memories throng!
Quench the glow of sunny skies,Turn all bright things into dust,Never pluck life’s fruitage fair,Never be upborne by song?Ah, so many memories throng!
Quench the glow of sunny skies,Turn all bright things into dust,Never pluck life’s fruitage fair,Never be upborne by song?Ah, so many memories throng!
Quench the glow of sunny skies,
Turn all bright things into dust,
Never pluck life’s fruitage fair,
Never be upborne by song?
Ah, so many memories throng!
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Nought avails. Lose not thy prayer.
Nought avails. Lose not thy prayer.
Nought avails. Lose not thy prayer.
Nought avails. Lose not thy prayer.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
Heed’st thou not thy martyr’s meed?Baffled where thou sought’st to waken,Stoned by all, by all forsaken?
Heed’st thou not thy martyr’s meed?Baffled where thou sought’st to waken,Stoned by all, by all forsaken?
Heed’st thou not thy martyr’s meed?Baffled where thou sought’st to waken,Stoned by all, by all forsaken?
Heed’st thou not thy martyr’s meed?
Baffled where thou sought’st to waken,
Stoned by all, by all forsaken?
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Not for recompense I bleed;Not for trophies do I fight.
Not for recompense I bleed;Not for trophies do I fight.
Not for recompense I bleed;Not for trophies do I fight.
Not for recompense I bleed;
Not for trophies do I fight.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
For a race that walksentomb’d.entomb’d.
For a race that walksentomb’d.entomb’d.
For a race that walksentomb’d.entomb’d.
For a race that walksentomb’d.entomb’d.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
One to many can give light.
One to many can give light.
One to many can give light.
One to many can give light.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
All their generation’s doom’d.
All their generation’s doom’d.
All their generation’s doom’d.
All their generation’s doom’d.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Much availeth one will’s might.
Much availeth one will’s might.
Much availeth one will’s might.
Much availeth one will’s might.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
“One” with fiery sword of yoreMan of Paradise bereft!At the gate a gulf he cleft;—Over that thou mayst not soar!
“One” with fiery sword of yoreMan of Paradise bereft!At the gate a gulf he cleft;—Over that thou mayst not soar!
“One” with fiery sword of yoreMan of Paradise bereft!At the gate a gulf he cleft;—Over that thou mayst not soar!
“One” with fiery sword of yore
Man of Paradise bereft!
At the gate a gulf he cleft;—
Over that thou mayst not soar!
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
But the path ofyearning’sleft.left.
But the path ofyearning’sleft.left.
But the path ofyearning’sleft.left.
But the path ofyearning’sleft.left.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
The Phantom.
[Vanishes in a thunder-clap; the mist fills the place where it stood; and a piercing scream is heard, as of one flying.]
Die! Earth cannot use thee more!
Die! Earth cannot use thee more!
Die! Earth cannot use thee more!
Die! Earth cannot use thee more!
Brand.[Stands a moment in bewilderment.]
Brand.[Stands a moment in bewilderment.]
Brand.
[Stands a moment in bewilderment.]
Out into the mist it leapt,—Plumy wings of falcon beating,Down along the moorland swept.For a finger it was treating,That the hand might be its prize—!Ha, the Spirit of Compromise!
Out into the mist it leapt,—Plumy wings of falcon beating,Down along the moorland swept.For a finger it was treating,That the hand might be its prize—!Ha, the Spirit of Compromise!
Out into the mist it leapt,—Plumy wings of falcon beating,Down along the moorland swept.For a finger it was treating,That the hand might be its prize—!Ha, the Spirit of Compromise!
Out into the mist it leapt,—
Plumy wings of falcon beating,
Down along the moorland swept.
For a finger it was treating,
That the hand might be its prize—!
Ha, the Spirit of Compromise!
Gerd.[Comes with a rifle.]
Gerd.[Comes with a rifle.]
Gerd.
[Comes with a rifle.]
Hast thou seen the falcon?
Hast thou seen the falcon?
Hast thou seen the falcon?
Hast thou seen the falcon?
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Yea;This time I have seen him.
Yea;This time I have seen him.
Yea;This time I have seen him.
Yea;
This time I have seen him.
Gerd.
Gerd.
Gerd.
Say,Quick, which way thou saw’st him fly;We will chase him, thou and I.
Say,Quick, which way thou saw’st him fly;We will chase him, thou and I.
Say,Quick, which way thou saw’st him fly;We will chase him, thou and I.
Say,
Quick, which way thou saw’st him fly;
We will chase him, thou and I.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Steel and bullet he defies;Oftentimes you think he fliesStricken by the mortal lead,—But draw near to strike him dead,Up he starts again, secure,With the old cajoling lure.
Steel and bullet he defies;Oftentimes you think he fliesStricken by the mortal lead,—But draw near to strike him dead,Up he starts again, secure,With the old cajoling lure.
Steel and bullet he defies;Oftentimes you think he fliesStricken by the mortal lead,—But draw near to strike him dead,Up he starts again, secure,With the old cajoling lure.
Steel and bullet he defies;
Oftentimes you think he flies
Stricken by the mortal lead,—
But draw near to strike him dead,
Up he starts again, secure,
With the old cajoling lure.
Gerd.
Gerd.
Gerd.
See, the hunter’s gun I’ve got,Steel and silver is the shot;’Trow, my wits are less astrayThan they reckon!
See, the hunter’s gun I’ve got,Steel and silver is the shot;’Trow, my wits are less astrayThan they reckon!
See, the hunter’s gun I’ve got,Steel and silver is the shot;’Trow, my wits are less astrayThan they reckon!
See, the hunter’s gun I’ve got,
Steel and silver is the shot;
’Trow, my wits are less astray
Than they reckon!
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
Have thy way.
Have thy way.
Have thy way.
Have thy way.
[Going.
Gerd.
Gerd.
Gerd.
Priest, thou walkest lame afoot.
Priest, thou walkest lame afoot.
Priest, thou walkest lame afoot.
Priest, thou walkest lame afoot.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
I was hunted.
I was hunted.
I was hunted.
I was hunted.
Gerd.
Gerd.
Gerd.
Red thy browAs the blood of thy heart’s root!
Red thy browAs the blood of thy heart’s root!
Red thy browAs the blood of thy heart’s root!
Red thy brow
As the blood of thy heart’s root!
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
I was beaten.
I was beaten.
I was beaten.
I was beaten.
Gerd.
Gerd.
Gerd.
MusicalWas thy voice of old, that nowRattles like the leaves of Fall.
MusicalWas thy voice of old, that nowRattles like the leaves of Fall.
MusicalWas thy voice of old, that nowRattles like the leaves of Fall.
Musical
Was thy voice of old, that now
Rattles like the leaves of Fall.
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
I was——
I was——
I was——
I was——
Gerd.
Gerd.
Gerd.
What?
What?
What?
What?
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
By one and allSpurn’d.
By one and allSpurn’d.
By one and allSpurn’d.
By one and all
Spurn’d.
Gerd.[Looking at him with great eyes.]
Gerd.[Looking at him with great eyes.]
Gerd.
[Looking at him with great eyes.]
Aha,—I know thee now!For the priest I took thee;—pestTake the priest and all the rest!The One, greatest Man art thou!
Aha,—I know thee now!For the priest I took thee;—pestTake the priest and all the rest!The One, greatest Man art thou!
Aha,—I know thee now!For the priest I took thee;—pestTake the priest and all the rest!The One, greatest Man art thou!
Aha,—I know thee now!
For the priest I took thee;—pest
Take the priest and all the rest!
The One, greatest Man art thou!
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
So I madly dared to trust.
So I madly dared to trust.
So I madly dared to trust.
So I madly dared to trust.
Gerd.
Gerd.
Gerd.
Let me look upon thy hands!
Let me look upon thy hands!
Let me look upon thy hands!
Let me look upon thy hands!
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.
On my hands?
On my hands?
On my hands?
On my hands?
Gerd.
Gerd.
Gerd.
They’re pierced and torn!In thy hair the blood-dew stands,Riven by the fanged thornIn thy forehead fiercely thrust,Thou the crucifix didst span!In my childhood Father told me’Twas another, long ago,Far away, that suffer’d so;—Now I see he only fool’d me;—Thou art the Redeeming man!
They’re pierced and torn!In thy hair the blood-dew stands,Riven by the fanged thornIn thy forehead fiercely thrust,Thou the crucifix didst span!In my childhood Father told me’Twas another, long ago,Far away, that suffer’d so;—Now I see he only fool’d me;—Thou art the Redeeming man!
They’re pierced and torn!In thy hair the blood-dew stands,Riven by the fanged thornIn thy forehead fiercely thrust,Thou the crucifix didst span!In my childhood Father told me’Twas another, long ago,Far away, that suffer’d so;—Now I see he only fool’d me;—Thou art the Redeeming man!
They’re pierced and torn!
In thy hair the blood-dew stands,
Riven by the fanged thorn
In thy forehead fiercely thrust,
Thou the crucifix didst span!
In my childhood Father told me
’Twas another, long ago,
Far away, that suffer’d so;—
Now I see he only fool’d me;—
Thou art the Redeeming man!
Brand.
Brand.
Brand.