Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/89

Was customary from of old.
Still dearer once I had to pay,—
I think I gave my life away.
Something I gave that now is not;—
I seem to see it flash in air
Like something foolish and yet fair;
I gave—I know not rightly what;—
"Love" was the name it used to bear.—
I know it was a bitter choice;
I know my father gave his voice:
"Forget the peasant-boy and wed
The other, 'spite his frosty pate;
A fellow with a knowing head,
He'll fairly double the estate!"
I took him, and he brought me shame.
The doubled gettings never came.
But I have drudged with streaming brow,
And there is little lacking now.

Brand.

And do you, as you near your grave,
Know that it was your <g>soul</g> you gave?

His Mother.

It's clear that I knew that, at least,
Giving my son to be a priest.
When the hour comes, a grateful heir
Of my salvation will take care;
I own the acres and the pence,
And you the deathbed eloquence.

Brand.

With all your cunning you mistook;
You read me wrong in childhood's book.
And many dwell by bank and brae
Who love their children in that way;—