Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/198

Agnes.

At the cross-way stand'st thou: choose
Quench the kindled light I brought,
Fence the fountain of my thought,
Give me back my idol treasures
(Still she lingers by the door),
Give me back the earthly pleasures
Of the bright, blind days of yore;
Thrust me back into the pit
Where till now I lulled my sin,
Deeper, deeper thrust me in—
Thou canst lightly compass it;
Clip my wings and check my flight,
Load my feet, and drag me bound
Down, down from thy dizzy height
To my lowly native ground;
Let me lead the life I led
When the darkness yet was dread:
If thou darest thus to lose,
Then, as ever, I am thine;
At the cross-way stand'st thou: choose!

Brand.

Woe, if such a choice were mine.
Ah, but in some place afar,
Where no bitter memories are,
Death and darkness thou shalt brave!

Agnes.

Hast thou <g>here</g> thy work forgotten,
Holy work—and holy grave?
And the thousands sin-besotten,
It is <g>here</g> thy task to save—
Those thou guidest for God's sake
To the Fountain that renews?
At the cross-way stand'st thou; choose