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Gerd.
Tenfold vaster at his fall
Grew the tent of Heaven above!
See him tumble; see him sprawl—!
Ah, I will not shudder more;
He is white, see, as a dove—!
[Shrieks in terror.]
Hu, the horrible thunder-roar!
[Throws herself down in the snow.
Brand.
[Crouches under the descending avalanche, and,
looking up, speaks.]
God, I plunge into death's night,—
Shall they wholly miss thy Light
Who unto man's utmost might
Will'd—?
[The avalanche buries him; the whole valley
is swallowed up.
A Voice.
[Calls through the crashing thunder.]
He is the God of Love.
THE END.
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