Brand.
Between God's summons choose, and his!
The Mayor.
Consult your own shrewd faculties!
The Dean.
A Miracle Divine is here!
A Providential Token clear!
How oft I dreamt that this befell!
I took it for a nightmare's spell;
And now its meaning is revealed
Brand.
Yourselves you ruin, if you yield!
Many.
A herring-horde!
The Mayor.
By millions told!
The Dean.
For wife and children, bread and gold!
The Mayor.
You see, then, this is not an hour
To waste your forces in a fray,
And against energies whose power
Strikes in the very Dean dismay.
Now ye have other ends in view
Than idly pining for the sky.
Heaven, trust me, can your arms defy,
And God's not easy to subdue.
Don't mix yourselves in others' strife,
But gather in the proffer'd fruit,
Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/257
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