The Passenger.
[In a low voice.]
Is it <g>his</g> way to light a lantern
For life's night-pilgrimage through fear?
Peer.
Ah, come! When once the thing's cleared up,
You'd seem a messenger of light?
The Passenger.
Friend,—have you <g>once</g> in each half-year
Felt all the earnestness of dread?[1]
Peer.
Why, one's afraid when danger threatens;—
But all your words have double meanings.[2]
The Passenger.
Ay, have you gained but <g>once</g> in life
The victory that is given in dread?
Peer.
[Looks at him.]
Came you to ope for me a door,
'Twas stupid not to come before.
What sort of sense is there in choosing
Your time when seas gape to devour one?
The Passenger.
Were, then, the victory more likely
Beside your hearthstone, snug and quiet?
Peer.
Perhaps not; but your talk was quizzical.
How could you fancy it awakening?
