Chapter 8

A Man.

Ay, pipe away, thou troll abhorr’d!He has a Guide and Guard on board!

Ay, pipe away, thou troll abhorr’d!

He has a Guide and Guard on board!

Another.

In a worse storm, with him to steer,I’d put to sea and never fear.

In a worse storm, with him to steer,

I’d put to sea and never fear.

First Man.[ToEinar.]

First Man.

[ToEinar.]

What is he?

Einar.

A priest.

Second Man.

What is he, nay—That’s plain: he is aman, I say!Strong will is in him, and bold deed.

What is he, nay—

That’s plain: he is aman, I say!

Strong will is in him, and bold deed.

First Man.

That were the very priest we need!

Many Voices.

Ay, ay, the very priest we need!

[They disperse along the slopes.

The Mayor.[Collecting his books and papers.]

The Mayor.

[Collecting his books and papers.]

Well, ’tis opposed to all routineTo labour in a strange vocation,Intrusively to risk one’s skinWithout an adequate occasion.—Ido my duty with precision,—But always in my own Division.[Goes.

Well, ’tis opposed to all routine

To labour in a strange vocation,

Intrusively to risk one’s skin

Without an adequate occasion.—

Ido my duty with precision,—

But always in my own Division.

[Goes.

[Outside the hut on the Ness. Late afternoon. The fjord is smooth and gleaming.Agnesis sittingby the beach. PresentlyBrandcomes out of the hut.]

Brand.

Thatwas death. The horror-riftedBosom at its touch grew whole.Now he looks a calm great soul,All illumined and up-lifted.Has a false illusion mightOut of gloom to win such light?Of his devil’s-deed he sawNothing but the outward flaw,—That of it which tongue can tellAnd to hands is palpable,—That for which his name’s reviled,—The brute slaying of his child.But those two, that sat and gazedWith great frighten’d eyes, amazed,Speechless, like two closely couchingBirdlets, in the ingle crouching,—Who but look’d, and look’d, and everLook’d, unwitting upon what,—In whose souls a poison-spotBit and sank, which they shall neverEven as old men bent and gray,In Time’s turmoil wear away,—They, whose tide of life proceedsFrom this fountain of affright,Who by dark and dreadful deedsMust be nurtured into light,Nor by any purging flamesMay that carrion thought consume,—This he saw not, being blind,That the direst of the doomWas the doom he left behind.And from them shall haply riseLink’d offences one by one.Wherefore? The abyss replies:From the father sprang the son!What shall be by Love erased?What be quietly effaced?Where, O where, does guilt beginIn our heritage of sin?What Assizes, what Assessors,When that Judgment is declared?Who shall question, who be heard,Where we’re all alike transgressors?Who will venture then to pleadHis foul-borrow’d title-deed?Will the old answer profit yet:“From my father dates my debt?”O, abysmal as the night,Riddle, who can read thee right!But the people dance light-footed,Heedless by the dizzy brink;Where the soul should cry and shrink,None has vision to perceiveWhat uptowering guilt is rootedIn that little word:We live.

Thatwas death. The horror-rifted

Bosom at its touch grew whole.

Now he looks a calm great soul,

All illumined and up-lifted.

Has a false illusion might

Out of gloom to win such light?

Of his devil’s-deed he saw

Nothing but the outward flaw,—

That of it which tongue can tell

And to hands is palpable,—

That for which his name’s reviled,—

The brute slaying of his child.

But those two, that sat and gazed

With great frighten’d eyes, amazed,

Speechless, like two closely couching

Birdlets, in the ingle crouching,—

Who but look’d, and look’d, and ever

Look’d, unwitting upon what,—

In whose souls a poison-spot

Bit and sank, which they shall never

Even as old men bent and gray,

In Time’s turmoil wear away,—

They, whose tide of life proceeds

From this fountain of affright,

Who by dark and dreadful deeds

Must be nurtured into light,

Nor by any purging flames

May that carrion thought consume,—

This he saw not, being blind,

That the direst of the doom

Was the doom he left behind.

And from them shall haply rise

Link’d offences one by one.

Wherefore? The abyss replies:

From the father sprang the son!

What shall be by Love erased?

What be quietly effaced?

Where, O where, does guilt begin

In our heritage of sin?

What Assizes, what Assessors,

When that Judgment is declared?

Who shall question, who be heard,

Where we’re all alike transgressors?

Who will venture then to plead

His foul-borrow’d title-deed?

Will the old answer profit yet:

“From my father dates my debt?”

O, abysmal as the night,

Riddle, who can read thee right!

But the people dance light-footed,

Heedless by the dizzy brink;

Where the soul should cry and shrink,

None has vision to perceive

What uptowering guilt is rooted

In that little word:We live.

[Some men of the community come from behind the house and approachBrand.]

A Man.

We were to meet again, you see.

Brand.

His need of human help has ceased.

The Man.

Yes; he is ransom’d and released;But in the chamber still sit three.

Yes; he is ransom’d and released;

But in the chamber still sit three.

Brand.

And what then?

The Man.

Of the scraps we gotTogether, a few crumbs we’ve brought——

Of the scraps we got

Together, a few crumbs we’ve brought——

Brand.

Though you give all, and life retain,I tell you that your gift is vain.

Though you give all, and life retain,

I tell you that your gift is vain.

The Man.

Had he to-day, who now lies dead,By mortal peril been bested,And I had heard his foundering cry,I also would have dared to die.

Had he to-day, who now lies dead,

By mortal peril been bested,

And I had heard his foundering cry,

I also would have dared to die.

Brand.

But peril of theSoulyou slight?

The Man.

Well, we’re but drudgers day by day.

Brand.

Then from the downward-streaming lightTurn your eyes utterly away;And cease to cast the left askanceAt heaven, while with the right you glanceDown at the mould where, crouching low,Self-harness’d in the yoke you go.

Then from the downward-streaming light

Turn your eyes utterly away;

And cease to cast the left askance

At heaven, while with the right you glance

Down at the mould where, crouching low,

Self-harness’d in the yoke you go.

The Man.

I thought you’d say we ought to shake usFree of the yoke we toil in?

I thought you’d say we ought to shake us

Free of the yoke we toil in?

Brand.

Yea,If you are able.

Yea,

If you are able.

The Man.

You can make us!

Brand.

Can I?

The Man.

Full many have been sentWho told us truly of the way;The path they pointed to, youwent.

Full many have been sent

Who told us truly of the way;

The path they pointed to, youwent.

Brand.

You mean——?

The Man.

A thousand speeches BrandLess deeply than one dint of deed.Here in our fellows’ name we stand;—We see, amanis what we need.

A thousand speeches Brand

Less deeply than one dint of deed.

Here in our fellows’ name we stand;—

We see, amanis what we need.

Brand.[Uneasily.]

Brand.

[Uneasily.]

What will you with me?

The Man.

Be our priest.

Brand.

I? Here!

The Man.

You’ve maybe heard it told,There is no pastor for this fold.

You’ve maybe heard it told,

There is no pastor for this fold.

Brand.

Yes; I recall.

The Man.

The place of oldWas large, which now is of the least.When evil seasons froze the field,And blight on herdsman fell,When want struck down the Man, and seal’dThe Spirit with its drowsing spell,When there was dearth of beef and brew,—Thencame a dearth of parsons too.

The place of old

Was large, which now is of the least.

When evil seasons froze the field,

And blight on herdsman fell,

When want struck down the Man, and seal’d

The Spirit with its drowsing spell,

When there was dearth of beef and brew,—

Thencame a dearth of parsons too.

Brand.

Aught else: but this ye must not ask!I’m summoned to a greater task.The great world’s open ear I seek;Through Life’s vast organ I must speak.What should I here? By mountains pentThe voice of man falls impotent.

Aught else: but this ye must not ask!

I’m summoned to a greater task.

The great world’s open ear I seek;

Through Life’s vast organ I must speak.

What should I here? By mountains pent

The voice of man falls impotent.

The Man.

By mountains echoed, longer heardIs each reverberating word.

By mountains echoed, longer heard

Is each reverberating word.

Brand.

Who in a cavern would be bound,When broad meads beckon all around?Who’ll sweat to plough the barren landWhen there are fruitful fields at hand?Who’ll rear his fruitage from the seedWhen orchards ripen to the skies?Who’ll struggle on with daily needWhen vision gives him wings and eyes?

Who in a cavern would be bound,

When broad meads beckon all around?

Who’ll sweat to plough the barren land

When there are fruitful fields at hand?

Who’ll rear his fruitage from the seed

When orchards ripen to the skies?

Who’ll struggle on with daily need

When vision gives him wings and eyes?

The Man.[Shaking his head.]

The Man.

[Shaking his head.]

Your deed I fathom’d,—not your word.

Brand.[Going.]

Brand.

[Going.]

Question no more! On board! on board!

The Man.[Barring his way.]

The Man.

[Barring his way.]

This calling that you must fulfil,This work, whereon you’ve set your will,Is it so precious to you, say?

This calling that you must fulfil,

This work, whereon you’ve set your will,

Is it so precious to you, say?

Brand.

It is my very life!

The Man.

Then stay![Pointedly.]“Though you give all and life retain,Remember, that your gift is vain.”

Then stay!

[Pointedly.]

“Though you give all and life retain,

Remember, that your gift is vain.”

Brand.

One thing is yours you may not spend?Your very inmost Self of all.You may not bind it, may not bend,Nor stem the river of your call.To make for ocean is its end.

One thing is yours you may not spend?

Your very inmost Self of all.

You may not bind it, may not bend,

Nor stem the river of your call.

To make for ocean is its end.

The Man.

Though tarn and moorland held it fast,—As dew ’twould reach the sea at last.

Though tarn and moorland held it fast,—

As dew ’twould reach the sea at last.

Brand.[Looking fixedly at him.]

Brand.

[Looking fixedly at him.]

Who gave you power to answer thus?

The Man.

You, by your deed, you gave it us.When wind and water raged and roar’d,And you launch’d out through wind and wave,When, a poor sinning soul to save,You set your life upon a board,Deep into many a heart it fell,Like wind and sunshine, cold and hot,Rang through them like a chiming bell,—[With lowered voice.]To-morrow, haply, all’s forgot,And furl’d the kindling banner brightYou just now lifted in our sight.

You, by your deed, you gave it us.

When wind and water raged and roar’d,

And you launch’d out through wind and wave,

When, a poor sinning soul to save,

You set your life upon a board,

Deep into many a heart it fell,

Like wind and sunshine, cold and hot,

Rang through them like a chiming bell,—

[With lowered voice.]

To-morrow, haply, all’s forgot,

And furl’d the kindling banner bright

You just now lifted in our sight.

Brand.

Duty is not, where power is not.[Sternly.]If you cannot be what you ought,Be in good earnest what you may;Be heart and soul a man of clay.

Duty is not, where power is not.

[Sternly.]

If you cannot be what you ought,

Be in good earnest what you may;

Be heart and soul a man of clay.

The Man.[After gazing on him a moment.]

The Man.

[After gazing on him a moment.]

Woe! you, who quench the lamp you lit;And us, who had a glimpse of it!

Woe! you, who quench the lamp you lit;

And us, who had a glimpse of it!

[He goes; the others silently follow.

Brand.[After long watching them.]

Brand.

[After long watching them.]

Homewards, one by one, with flaggingSpirits, heavily and slow,Foreheads bowed, and weary laggingFootsteps, silently they go.Each with sorrow in his eyes,Walks as from a lifted rod,Walks like Adam spurn’d by GodFrom the gates of Paradise,—Walks like him, with sin-veil’d sight,—Sees, like him, the gathering night,All his gain of knowledge shares,All his loss of blindness bears.I have boldly dared to planThe refashioning of Man,——There’smy work,—Sin’s image grown,Whom God moulded in His own.—Forth! to wider fields away!Here’s no room for battle-play!

Homewards, one by one, with flagging

Spirits, heavily and slow,

Foreheads bowed, and weary lagging

Footsteps, silently they go.

Each with sorrow in his eyes,

Walks as from a lifted rod,

Walks like Adam spurn’d by God

From the gates of Paradise,—

Walks like him, with sin-veil’d sight,—

Sees, like him, the gathering night,

All his gain of knowledge shares,

All his loss of blindness bears.

I have boldly dared to plan

The refashioning of Man,—

—There’smy work,—Sin’s image grown,

Whom God moulded in His own.—

Forth! to wider fields away!

Here’s no room for battle-play!

[Going; but pauses as he seesAgnesby the beach.]

See, she listens by the shore,As to airy songs afloat.So she listen’d in the boatAs the stormy surge it tore,—Listening, to the thwart she clung,—Listening still, the sea-foam hoarFrom her open forehead flung.’Tis as though her ear were changingFunction, and her eye were listening.[He approaches.]Maiden, is it o’er those glisteningReaches that your eye is ranging?

See, she listens by the shore,

As to airy songs afloat.

So she listen’d in the boat

As the stormy surge it tore,—

Listening, to the thwart she clung,—

Listening still, the sea-foam hoar

From her open forehead flung.

’Tis as though her ear were changing

Function, and her eye were listening.

[He approaches.]

Maiden, is it o’er those glistening

Reaches that your eye is ranging?

Agnes.[Without turning round.]

Agnes.

[Without turning round.]

Neither those nor aught of earth;Nothing of them I descry.But a greater earth there gleamsSharply outlined on the sky,Foaming floods and spreading streams,Mists and sunshine breaking forth.Scarlet-shafted flames are playingOver cloud-capp’d mountain heads,And an endless desert spreads,Whereupon great palms are swayingIn the bitter-breathing blast.Swart the shadows that they cast.Nowhere any living thing;Like a new world at its birth;And I hear strange accents ring,And a Voice interpreting:“Choose thy endless loss or gain,Do thy work and bear thy pain;—Thou shalt people this new earth!”

Neither those nor aught of earth;

Nothing of them I descry.

But a greater earth there gleams

Sharply outlined on the sky,

Foaming floods and spreading streams,

Mists and sunshine breaking forth.

Scarlet-shafted flames are playing

Over cloud-capp’d mountain heads,

And an endless desert spreads,

Whereupon great palms are swaying

In the bitter-breathing blast.

Swart the shadows that they cast.

Nowhere any living thing;

Like a new world at its birth;

And I hear strange accents ring,

And a Voice interpreting:

“Choose thy endless loss or gain,

Do thy work and bear thy pain;—

Thou shalt people this new earth!”

Brand.[Carried away.]

Brand.

[Carried away.]

Say, what further!

Agnes.[Laying her hand on her breast.]

Agnes.

[Laying her hand on her breast.]

In my soulI can feel new powers awaking,I can see a dayspring breaking,I can feel full floods that roll,And my heart grows larger, freer,Clasps the world within its girth,And a voice interprets: HereShalt thou people a new earth!All the thoughts that men shall utter,All the deeds men shall achieve,Waken, whisper, quiver, mutter,As if now they were to live;And I rather feel than seeHim who sits enthroned above,Feel that He looks down on meFull of sadness and of love,Tender-bright as morning’s breath,And yet sorrowing unto death:And I hear strange accents wake:“Now thou must be made, and make;Choose thy endless loss or gain!—Do thy work and bear thy pain!”

In my soul

I can feel new powers awaking,

I can see a dayspring breaking,

I can feel full floods that roll,

And my heart grows larger, freer,

Clasps the world within its girth,

And a voice interprets: Here

Shalt thou people a new earth!

All the thoughts that men shall utter,

All the deeds men shall achieve,

Waken, whisper, quiver, mutter,

As if now they were to live;

And I rather feel than see

Him who sits enthroned above,

Feel that He looks down on me

Full of sadness and of love,

Tender-bright as morning’s breath,

And yet sorrowing unto death:

And I hear strange accents wake:

“Now thou must be made, and make;

Choose thy endless loss or gain!—

Do thy work and bear thy pain!”

Brand.

Inwards! In! O word of might,Now I see my way aright.Inourselvesis that young Earth,Ripe for the divine new-birth;Will, the fiend, must there be slain,Adamtherebe born again.Let the world then take its way,Brutal toil or giddy play;But if e’er we meet in fight,If my work it seek to blight,Then, by heaven, I’ll smite and slay!Room within the wide world’s span,Self completely to fulfil,—That’s a valid right of Man,And no more than that I will![After pondering awhile in silence.]To fulfil oneself! And yet,With a heritage of debt?[Pauses and looks out.]Who is she, that, stooping deep,Chambers hither up the steep,—Crooked back and craning crop?Now for breath she has to stop,Clutches wildly lest she stumble,And her skinny fingers fumbleFierce for something that she dragsIn those deep and roomy bags.Skirt, like folds of feather’d skin,Dangling down her shrivelled shin;Hands, a pair of clenched hooks;So the eagle’s carcase looksNail’d against the barn-door top.[In sudden anguish.]What chill memories upstart,—O what gusts from childhood dartFrosty showers on her—and otherFiercer frost upon my heart—?God of grace! It is my Mother!

Inwards! In! O word of might,

Now I see my way aright.

Inourselvesis that young Earth,

Ripe for the divine new-birth;

Will, the fiend, must there be slain,

Adamtherebe born again.

Let the world then take its way,

Brutal toil or giddy play;

But if e’er we meet in fight,

If my work it seek to blight,

Then, by heaven, I’ll smite and slay!

Room within the wide world’s span,

Self completely to fulfil,—

That’s a valid right of Man,

And no more than that I will!

[After pondering awhile in silence.]

To fulfil oneself! And yet,

With a heritage of debt?

[Pauses and looks out.]

Who is she, that, stooping deep,

Chambers hither up the steep,—

Crooked back and craning crop?

Now for breath she has to stop,

Clutches wildly lest she stumble,

And her skinny fingers fumble

Fierce for something that she drags

In those deep and roomy bags.

Skirt, like folds of feather’d skin,

Dangling down her shrivelled shin;

Hands, a pair of clenched hooks;

So the eagle’s carcase looks

Nail’d against the barn-door top.

[In sudden anguish.]

What chill memories upstart,—

O what gusts from childhood dart

Frosty showers on her—and other

Fiercer frost upon my heart—?

God of grace! It is my Mother!

Brand’s Mother.

[Comes up, stops when half seen above the slope, holds her hand up to shade her eyes, and looks round.]

He’s here, they told me.[Coming nearer.]Drat the blaze,—It nearly takes away my sight!Son, is that you?

He’s here, they told me.

[Coming nearer.]

Drat the blaze,—

It nearly takes away my sight!

Son, is that you?

Brand.

Yes.

His Mother.[Rubbing her eyes.]

His Mother.

[Rubbing her eyes.]

Hoo, those rays,They burn one’s very eyes outright;I can’t tell priest from boor.

Hoo, those rays,

They burn one’s very eyes outright;

I can’t tell priest from boor.

Brand.

Sun’s lightAt home I never saw at all’Twixt fall of leaf and cuckoo’s call.

Sun’s light

At home I never saw at all

’Twixt fall of leaf and cuckoo’s call.

His Mother.[Laughing quietly.]

His Mother.

[Laughing quietly.]

Ay,there’tis good. One’s gripped with frostLike icicles o’er a plunging river,Strong todareanything whatever,—And yet believe one is not lost.

Ay,there’tis good. One’s gripped with frost

Like icicles o’er a plunging river,

Strong todareanything whatever,

—And yet believe one is not lost.

Brand.

Farewell. My leisure time is spent.

His Mother.

Ay, thou wast ever loth to stay.As boy thou long’dst to be away—

Ay, thou wast ever loth to stay.

As boy thou long’dst to be away—

Brand.

It was at your desire I went.

His Mother.

Ay, and good reason too, I say’Twas needful thou shouldst be a priest.[Examines him more closely.]H’m, he is grown up strong and tall.But heed this word of mine, at least,—Care for thy life, son!

Ay, and good reason too, I say

’Twas needful thou shouldst be a priest.

[Examines him more closely.]

H’m, he is grown up strong and tall.

But heed this word of mine, at least,—

Care for thy life, son!

Brand.

Is that all?

His Mother.

Thy life? What’s dearer?

Brand.

I would say:Have you more counsels to convey?

I would say:

Have you more counsels to convey?

His Mother.

For others, use them as you may,And welcome. But thy life, O save itFor my sake; it was I that gave it.[Angrily]Your mad deed’s talked of far and near;It scares and harrows me to hear.On such a day to dare the fjord,And squander what you’re bound to hoard!You of our clan survive alone,You are my son, my flesh and bone;The roof-tree beam that copes and clinchesThe house I’ve builded up by inches.Stick fast; hold out; endure; survive!Guard your life! Never let it go!An heir is bound to keep alive,—And you’ll be mine—one day—you know——

For others, use them as you may,

And welcome. But thy life, O save it

For my sake; it was I that gave it.

[Angrily]

Your mad deed’s talked of far and near;

It scares and harrows me to hear.

On such a day to dare the fjord,

And squander what you’re bound to hoard!

You of our clan survive alone,

You are my son, my flesh and bone;

The roof-tree beam that copes and clinches

The house I’ve builded up by inches.

Stick fast; hold out; endure; survive!

Guard your life! Never let it go!

An heir is bound to keep alive,—

And you’ll be mine—one day—you know——

Brand.

Indeed? And that was why you plann’dWith loaded purse to seek me here?

Indeed? And that was why you plann’d

With loaded purse to seek me here?

His Mother.

Son, are you raving?[Steps back.]Don’t come nearStay where you are! You’ll feel my hand![More calmly.]What were you meaning?—Just attendI’m getting older year by year;Sooner or later comes the end;Then you’ll inherit all I’ve treasured,’Tis duly counted, weighed and measured—Nay, nay, I’ve nothing on me now!—It’s all at home. It is but scant;But he that gets it will not want.Stand back there! Don’t come near!—I vowI’ll fling no stiver of my storeDown fissures, nor in spot unknownHide any, nor below a stone.In wall, or underneath a floor;All shall be yours, son, you shall beMy sole and single legatee.

Son, are you raving?

[Steps back.]

Don’t come near

Stay where you are! You’ll feel my hand!

[More calmly.]

What were you meaning?—Just attend

I’m getting older year by year;

Sooner or later comes the end;

Then you’ll inherit all I’ve treasured,

’Tis duly counted, weighed and measured—

Nay, nay, I’ve nothing on me now!—

It’s all at home. It is but scant;

But he that gets it will not want.

Stand back there! Don’t come near!—I vow

I’ll fling no stiver of my store

Down fissures, nor in spot unknown

Hide any, nor below a stone.

In wall, or underneath a floor;

All shall be yours, son, you shall be

My sole and single legatee.

Brand.

And the conditions?

His Mother.

One I make,No more; don’t set your life at stake.Keep up our family and name,That’s all the gratitude I claim.Then see that nothing go to waste,—Naught be divided or displaced;—Add much or little, as you will;But O preserve, preserve it still!

One I make,

No more; don’t set your life at stake.

Keep up our family and name,

That’s all the gratitude I claim.

Then see that nothing go to waste,—

Naught be divided or displaced;—

Add much or little, as you will;

But O preserve, preserve it still!

Brand.[After a short pause.]

Brand.

[After a short pause.]

One thing needs clearing ’twixt us two.From childhood I have thwarted you;—You’ve been no mother, I no son,Till you are gray, my childhood gone.

One thing needs clearing ’twixt us two.

From childhood I have thwarted you;—

You’ve been no mother, I no son,

Till you are gray, my childhood gone.

His Mother.

I do not ask to be caress’d.Be what you please; I am not nice.Be stern, be fierce, be cold as ice,It will not cleave my armour’d breast;Keep, though you hoard it, what was mine,And never let it leave our line!

I do not ask to be caress’d.

Be what you please; I am not nice.

Be stern, be fierce, be cold as ice,

It will not cleave my armour’d breast;

Keep, though you hoard it, what was mine,

And never let it leave our line!

Brand.[Going a step nearer.]

Brand.

[Going a step nearer.]

And if I took it in my headTo strew it to the winds, instead?

And if I took it in my head

To strew it to the winds, instead?

His Mother.[Reeling back.]

His Mother.

[Reeling back.]

Strew, what through all these years of careHas bent my back and bleach’d my hair?

Strew, what through all these years of care

Has bent my back and bleach’d my hair?

Brand.[Nodding slowly.]

Brand.

[Nodding slowly.]

To strew it.

His Mother.

Strew it! If you do,It is my soul that you will strew!

Strew it! If you do,

It is my soul that you will strew!

Brand.

And if I do it, even so?If I one evening vigil keepWith lighted taper by your bed,While you with clasped Psalter sleepThe first night’s slumber of the dead,—If I then fumble round about,Draw treasure after treasure out,Take up the taper, hold it low—?

And if I do it, even so?

If I one evening vigil keep

With lighted taper by your bed,

While you with clasped Psalter sleep

The first night’s slumber of the dead,—

If I then fumble round about,

Draw treasure after treasure out,

Take up the taper, hold it low—?

His Mother.[Approaching excitedly.]

His Mother.

[Approaching excitedly.]

Whence comes this fancy?

Brand.

Would you know?

His Mother.

Ay.

Brand.

From a childish scene that stillLives in my mind, and ever will,That seams my soul with foul deviceLike an infestering cicatrice.It was an autumn evening. DeadWas father; you lay sick in bed.I stole where he was laid by night,All pallid in the silver light.I stood and watched him from my nook,Saw how his two hands clasp’d the Book;I marvell’d why he slept so long,Mark’d his thin wrists, and smelt the strongOdour of linen newly dried;—And then I heard a step outside;—A woman enter’d, strode apaceUp to the bed, nor saw my face.Then she began to grope and pry;First put the corpse’s vesture by,Drew forth a bundle, then a store,Counted, and whisper’d: There is more!Then, grubbing deeper in the ground,Clutch’d a seal’d packet tightly bound,With trembling fingers strove and tore,Bit it in two, groped deeper, found,Counted, and whisper’d; There is more!She cried, she cursed, she wail’d, she wept,She scented where the treasure lay,And then with eager anguish sweptDown like a falcon on her prey.When she had ransacked all the room,She turn’d, like one who hears her doom,Wrapp’d up her booty in a shawl,And faintly groan’d: Sothatwas all!

From a childish scene that still

Lives in my mind, and ever will,

That seams my soul with foul device

Like an infestering cicatrice.

It was an autumn evening. Dead

Was father; you lay sick in bed.

I stole where he was laid by night,

All pallid in the silver light.

I stood and watched him from my nook,

Saw how his two hands clasp’d the Book;

I marvell’d why he slept so long,

Mark’d his thin wrists, and smelt the strong

Odour of linen newly dried;—

And then I heard a step outside;—

A woman enter’d, strode apace

Up to the bed, nor saw my face.

Then she began to grope and pry;

First put the corpse’s vesture by,

Drew forth a bundle, then a store,

Counted, and whisper’d: There is more!

Then, grubbing deeper in the ground,

Clutch’d a seal’d packet tightly bound,

With trembling fingers strove and tore,

Bit it in two, groped deeper, found,

Counted, and whisper’d; There is more!

She cried, she cursed, she wail’d, she wept,

She scented where the treasure lay,

And then with eager anguish swept

Down like a falcon on her prey.

When she had ransacked all the room,

She turn’d, like one who hears her doom,

Wrapp’d up her booty in a shawl,

And faintly groan’d: Sothatwas all!

His Mother.

I needed much, I little won;And very dearly was it bought.

I needed much, I little won;

And very dearly was it bought.

Brand.

Even more dearly than you thought;Son’s-heart you shattered in your son.

Even more dearly than you thought;

Son’s-heart you shattered in your son.

His Mother.

Tut, tut. To barter hearts for goldWas customary from of old.Still dearer once I had to pay,—I think I gave my life away.Something I gave that now is not;—I seem to see it flash in airLike something foolish and yet fair;I gave—I know not rightly what;—“Love” was the name it used to bear.—I know it was a bitter choice;I know my father gave his voice:“Forget the peasant-boy and wedThe other, ’spite his frosty pate;A fellow with a knowing head,He’ll fairly double the estate!”I took him, and he brought me shame.The doubled gettings never came.But I have drudged with streaming brow,And there is little lacking now.

Tut, tut. To barter hearts for gold

Was customary from of old.

Still dearer once I had to pay,—

I think I gave my life away.

Something I gave that now is not;—

I seem to see it flash in air

Like something foolish and yet fair;

I gave—I know not rightly what;—

“Love” was the name it used to bear.—

I know it was a bitter choice;

I know my father gave his voice:

“Forget the peasant-boy and wed

The other, ’spite his frosty pate;

A fellow with a knowing head,

He’ll fairly double the estate!”

I took him, and he brought me shame.

The doubled gettings never came.

But I have drudged with streaming brow,

And there is little lacking now.

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