Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/61

Of our drought-flood-and-famine curse
Has reach'd you, promptly loose your purse
(If yet unloosen'd). Every sort
Of contribution meets the case.
Our store's nigh spent. Five fishes scant
In the wide wilderness of Want
Don't make a square meal nowadays.

Brand.

Myriads, idolatrously given,
Would lift the soul no nearer heaven.

The Mayor.

It was not words I bade you share:
They're barren when the belly's bare.

Einar.

I can't believe that you recall
What long and fierce calamities
They've suffered:—famine, drought, disease.
Men die, Brand——

Brand.

                  I perceive it all.
Each livid-circled eye makes clear
Who it is holds assizes here.

The Mayor.

Yet there you stand, a very flint!

Brand.

If life here ran its sluggish round
Of common toil and common stint,
Pity with me your pangs had found.
Who homeward crawls with earth-set eyes,
In him the sleeping beast will rise.