Over their sickly babes asleep.—
Why did my soul in flesh take breath,
If love of flesh is the soul's death?—
Stay near me, priest!—I am not clear
How I shall feel when death is near.
"Naked into the grave descend,"—
I'll wait, at least, until the end. [Goes.
Brand.
[Gazing after her.]
Yes, thy son shall still be near,
Call to him, and he shall hear.
Stretch thy hand, and, cold and perish'd,
At his heart it shall be cherish'd.
[Goes down to Agnes.]
As the Morn not so the Night.
Then my soul was set on fight,
Then I heard the war-drum rattle,
Yearn'd the sword of Wrath to swing,
Lies to trample, Trolls to fling,
Fill the world with clashing battle.
Agnes.
[Has turned round to him, and looks radiantly up.]
By the Night the Morn was pale.
Then I sought the joys that fail;
Sought to triumph by attaining
What in losing I am gaining.
Brand.
Visions stirring, visions splendid
Like a flock of swans descended,
On their spreading wings upbore me,
And I saw my way before me;—
Sin-subduer of the Age
