Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/128

Our own cause bear to victory;
And I will bear it, till the land
Is all illumined where I stand!
The people, your bureaucrat-crew
Have lull'd asleep, shall wake anew;
Too long you've cramp'd and caged apart
These remnants of the Mountain heart;
Out of your niggard hunger-cure
They pass dejected, dull, demure:
Their best, their bravest blood you tap,
Scoop out their marrow and their sap,
Pound into splinters every soul,
That should have stood a welded whole;—
But you may live to hear the roar
Of revolution thunder: <g>War!</g>

The Mayor.

War?

Brand.

     War!

The Mayor.

          Be sure, if you should call
To arms, you'll be the first to fall.

Brand.

The day will come when we shall know
That triumph's height is Overthrow.

The Mayor.

Consider, Brand, you have to choose!
Don't stake your fortune on one card.

Brand.

I do, however!