Frosty showers on her—and other
Fiercer frost upon my heart—?
God of grace! It is my Mother!
Brand's Mother.
[Comes up, stops when half seen above the slope,
holds her hand up to shade her eyes, and looks
round.]
He's here, they told me.
[Coming nearer.]
Drat the blaze,—
It nearly takes away my sight!
Son, is that you?
Brand.
Yes.
His Mother.
[Rubbing her eyes.]
Hoo, those rays,
They burn one's very eyes outright;
I can't tell priest from boor.
Brand.
Sun's light
At home I never saw at all
'Twixt fall of leaf and cuckoo's call.
His Mother.
[Laughing quietly.]
Ay, <g>there</g> 'tis good. One's gripped with frost
Like icicles o'er a plunging river,
Strong to <g>dare</g> anything whatever,
—And yet believe one is not lost.
Brand.
Farewell. My leisure time is spent.
