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Brand.
Snares in that dream of thine lie hid;
Close it again.
Agnes.
[Pleading.]
Brand!
Brand.
Close, I say!
Agnes.
Oh, be not harsh, it is not right.
Brand.
Close, close!
Agnes.
[Drawing it.]
Now all is close and tight;
Yet in my heart I scarce can deem
God injured if, at sorest need,
In the brief respite of a dream
I tasted comfort.
Brand.
No, indeed!
He is a feeling Judge and kind,
And will indulgently forbear,
If in thy service He should find
Some idol-worship here and there.
Agnes.
[Bursts into tears.]
Oh, say, <g>when</g> will He cease to crave?
My wings are weak—I faint and fall
