Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/124

Of promise-heroes of to-day,
Who take the Cross in just his way.

The Mayor.

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

Brand.

Yet do you not, in fact, eschew
The phrase, "Nobility's a trust,"—
And drive hoe, plough, and harrow through
King Belë's patrimonial dust?

The Mayor.

By no means. Only go and mark
Our parish on its gaudy-nights,
Where I with Constable and Clerk,
And Judge, preside as leading lights;
You'll warrant, when the punch goes round,
King Belë's memory is sound.
With toasts and clinking cups and song,
In speeches short and speeches long,