Brand.
Read! With you I break my pact.
The Multitude.
Show the way, and we will follow!
Brand.
Over frozen height and hollow,
Over all the land we'll fare,
Loose each soul-destroying snare
That this people holds in fee,
Lift and lighten, and set free,
Blot the vestige of the beast,
Each a Man and each a Priest,
Stamp anew the outworn brand,
Make a Temple of the land.
[The multitude, including the Sexton and Schoolmaster, throng around him. Brand is lifted on to their shoulders.
Many Voices.
'Tis a great Time! Visions fair
Dazzle through the noontide glare.
[The great mass of the assemblage streams away up the valley; a few remain.
The Dean.
[To the departing crowd.]
O, ye blinded ones, what would you?
Lo! behind his seeming sooth
Satan scheming to delude you!
The Mayor.
Ho there! Turn! Folks born to track
Safe home-waters still and smooth!
