Chapter V: Part 5

_His_ the scandal; _his_ the sin!
But we’ll shortly win the fight!

THE DEAN.
[_Almost breaking down._]

Win? Of all our people cheated?—

THE MAYOR.

Ay, but we are not defeated,
If I know my lambs aright!
[_Follows them._

THE DEAN.

Whither will he, in heaven’s name?
As I live, he’s after them!
Ha, my drooping courage rises,
I will also do and dare,—
Make assaults and capture prizes!
Bring my steed;—that is, prepare
A safe, steady mountain mare!
[_They go._

--------------

_By the highest farms in the valley. The land rises in the
background, and passes into great barren mountains.
Rain._

_BRAND, followed by the multitude—men, women, and
children,—comes up the slopes._

BRAND.

Look onward! Triumph flies ahead!
Your homes are hidden in the deep,
And over it, from steep to steep,
The storm his cloudy tent has spread.
Forget the pit of sloth ye trod,
Fly free aloft, ye sons of God!

A MAN.

Wait; my old father is dead beaten.

ANOTHER.

Since yesterday I’ve nothing eaten——

SEVERAL.

Ay, still our hunger, slake our thirst!

BRAND.

On, on, across the mountain first!

SCHOOLMASTER.

Which way?

BRAND.

All ways alike are right
That reach the goal. This way pursue——

A MAN.

Nay, it is steep, and ’twill be night
Ere we are well upon the height.

THE SEXTON.

And that way lies the Ice-church too.

BRAND.

The steep way is the short way still.

A WOMAN.

My foot is sore!

ANOTHER.

My child is ill!

A THIRD.

Where shall I get a drop to drink?

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Priest, feed the people;—see, they sink.

MANY VOICES.

A miracle! A miracle!

BRAND.

O, the slave-stamp has branded deep;
The toil you shirk, the hire you crave.
Up, and shake off this deadly sleep,—
Or else, get back into the grave!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Ay, he is right; first face the foe;
The hire comes afterwards, you know.

BRAND.

It shall, as sure as God looks forth
Over the breadth and depth of Earth!

MANY VOICES.

He’s prophesying! He’s prophesying!

SEVERAL.

Hark, priest, will it be warm, this fight?

OTHERS.

And bloody? And will it last till night?

THE SCHOOLMASTER.
[_Aside._]

I trust there is no risk of dying?

A MAN.

Priest, must we really face the fire?

ANOTHER.

What is _my_ portion of the hire?

A WOMAN.

You’re sure I shall not lose my son?

THE SEXTON.

By Tuesday will the field be won?

BRAND.
[_Looking round in bewilderment on the throng._]

What would you know? What’s your demand?

THE SEXTON.

Firstly, how long we shall make war.
Then, of our total loss therein.
And finally,—how much we win?

BRAND.

This ye demand?

THE SEXTON.

Yes, ’faith; before
We did not rightly understand.

BRAND.
[_Deeply moved._]

Then ye shall understand it now!

THE MULTITUDE.
[_Thronging closer._]

Speak! Speak!

BRAND.

How long the war will last?
As long as life, till ye have cast
All ye possess before the Lord,
And slain the Spirit of Accord;
Until your stiff will bend and bow,
And every coward scruple fall
Before the bidding: Nought or All!
What you will lose? Your gods abhorr’d,
Your feasts to Mammon and the Lord,
The glittering bonds ye do not loathe,
And all the pillows of your sloth!
What you will gain? A will that’s whole,—
A soaring faith, a single soul,
The willingness to lose, that gave
Itself rejoicing to the grave;—
A crown of thorns on every brow;—
That is the wage you’re earning now!

THE MULTITUDE.
[_With a furious cry._]

Betray’d! Betray’d! Deceived! Misled!

BRAND.

I say but what I always said!

SEVERAL.

You promised us the victor’s prize;
And now it turns to sacrifice!

BRAND.

I promised victory,—and to you
Victory shall indeed be due.
But every man who fights in front
Must perish in the battle’s brunt;
If that he dares not, let him lay
His arms down ere the battle-day
The flag’s predestined to surrender
That has a timorous defender;
And he that shudders at the cost,
Ere he is wounded, he is lost.

THE MULTITUDE.

He insolently bids us die
To serve unborn posterity!

BRAND.

Through thorny steeps of sacrifice,
The way unto our Canaan lies.
Triumph through death! I call you all,
As Champions of God to fall!

THE SEXTON.

Well, we are in a pretty plight!
No mercy to expect below——

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Nay, we have bade the dale good-night.

THE SEXTON.

And forward, forward, who will go?

SOME.

To death with him!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

’Twere pity, so!
We want a general, you know!

WOMEN.
[_Pointing in terror downwards._]

The Dean! The Dean!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.
[_To the throng._]

Nay, never fear!

THE DEAN.
[_Comes in, followed by some of those who remained behind._]

O my beloved! O my sheep!
To the old shepherd’s voice give ear!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.
[_To the throng._]

A home no more we have below;
Better we follow up the steep!

THE DEAN.

That ye could grieve my heart so sore,
And pierce me with a wound so deep!

BRAND.

Thou wast their soul’s scourge evermore!

THE DEAN.

Don’t heed him! He is stuffing you
With idle promises.

SEVERAL.

That’s true!

THE DEAN.

But we are gracious, and forgive
Where we true penitence perceive.
O, turn your eyes into your hearts
And mark the diabolic arts
With which he won you to his aid!

THE MULTITUDE.

Ay, sure enough; we were betray’d!

THE DEAN.

And then consider; what can ye,
A knot of scatter’d dalesmen, do?
Are high heroic deeds for you?
Can ye give bondsmen liberty?
You have your daily task; pursue it!
Whatever is beyond, eschew it!
What can your prowess brave or baulk?
Ye have your humble homes to keep.
What would you between eagle and hawk?
What would you between wolf and bear?
Ye fall but to the strongest’s share.
O my beloved! O my sheep!

THE MULTITUDE.

Ay, woe on us,—his words are true!

THE SEXTON.

And yet, when from the dale we drew,
Upon ourselves we locked the door;
We have no home there, as before.

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

No, he has open’d all our eyes,
Laid bare sins, sicknesses, and lies;
The sleepy people sleeps no more;
And deadly to our waking seems
The life that satisfied our dreams.

THE DEAN.

Ah, trust me, that will soon pass over.
All will return to the old state,
If you will just be still and wait.
These folks, I’ll wage, will soon recover
The wonted calm they have foregone.

BRAND.

Choose, men and women!

SOME.

Home!

OTHERS.

Too late!
Too late! Along the height press on!

THE MAYOR.
[_Enters in haste._]

O lucky chance I caught you up.

WOMEN.

Ah, dear kind master, don’t be stern.

THE MAYOR.

Not now; provided you return!
A better day, a brighter season
Dawns for us! If you’ll hark to reason,
You’ll all be rich men ere you sup!

SEVERAL.

How so?

THE MAYOR.

There is a herring-horde
By millions swimming in the fjord!

THE MULTITUDE.

What does he say?

THE MAYOR.

Set all to rights!
Fly from these stormy uplands bare.
Till now the herrings swam elsewhere;
Now, friends, at last, our barren bights
Good fortune tardily requites.

BRAND.

Between God’s summons choose, and his!

THE MAYOR.

Consult your own shrewd faculties!

THE DEAN.

A Miracle Divine is here!
A Providential Token clear!
How oft I dreamt that this befell!
I took it for a nightmare’s spell;
And now its meaning is revealed——

BRAND.

Yourselves you ruin, if you yield!

MANY.

A herring-horde!

THE MAYOR.

By millions told!

THE DEAN.

For wife and children, bread and gold!

THE MAYOR.

You see, then, this is not an hour
To waste your forces in a fray,
And against energies whose power
Strikes in the very Dean dismay.
Now ye have other ends in view
Than idly pining for the sky.
Heaven, trust me, can your arms defy,
And God’s not easy to subdue.
Don’t mix yourselves in others’ strife,
But gather in the proffer’d fruit,
That is a practical pursuit,
That does not call for blood and knife;
That asks no sacrifice of life,
And gives you its good things to boot!

BRAND.

Just sacrifice is His demand,—
Flame-writ in Heaven by His hand!

THE DEAN.

Ah, if you feel a call that way,
Just come to me next Sunday, say,
And on my word I’ll——

THE MAYOR.
[_Interrupting._]

Yes, yes, yes!

THE SEXTON.
[_Aside to the DEAN._]

Shall I be suffer’d keep my place?

THE SCHOOLMASTER.
[_Similarly._]

Shall I be forced to leave my school?

THE DEAN.
[_Aside to them._]

If these stiff necks you overrule
We will deal mildly with your case.

THE MAYOR.

Away—away with you! time flies!

THE SEXTON.

To boat, to boat, whoever’s wise!

SOME.

Ay, but the priest?——

THE SEXTON.

O, leave the fool!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Here speaks the Lord as clearly, look,
As in an open printed book!

THE MAYOR.

Leave him; that’s law and justice too;
With babbling tales he flouted you.

SEVERAL.

He lied to us!

THE DEAN.

His creed’s accursed;
And think, he never got a First!

SOME.

Never got _what_?

THE MAYOR.

A grain of sense.

THE SEXTON.

Nay, of that we have evidence!

THE DEAN.

Vainly his mother’s dying breath
For the last sacrament made suit!

THE MAYOR.

His child he almost did to death!

THE SEXTON.

His wife as well!

WOMEN.

O heartless brute!

THE DEAN.

Bad spouse, bad father, and bad son,—
Worse Christian surely there is none!

MANY VOICES.

Our ancient Church he overthrew!

OTHERS.

And shot the bolt upon the new!

OTHERS AGAIN.

He wreck’d us in a roaring stream!

THE MAYOR.

He pilfer’d my Asylum-scheme!

BRAND.

On every branded brow I see
This generation’s destiny.

THE WHOLE THRONG.
[_Roaring._]

Hoo, never heed him! Stone and knife!
Send the fiend flying for his life!

[_BRAND is driven with stones out into the wild. His
pursuers then return._

THE DEAN.

O my beloved! O my sheep!
Back to your homes and hearths once more;
Your eyes in true repentance steep,
And see what blessings are in store.
God in His mercy is so good,
He asketh not the guiltless blood;—
And our authorities as well
Are singularly placable;
Mayor, magistrate, and sheriff too,
Will not be over hard on you;
And for myself, that large humanity
That marks our modern Christianity
Is mine; your rulers will descend
And dwell with you, as friend with friend.

THE MAYOR.

But should abuses be detected,
They must, past question, be corrected.
When we’ve a little time to move,
I’ll have appointed a commission,
To seek how best we may improve
Your intellectual condition.
Some clergymen it should include
Such as the Dean and I think good,—
And furthermore, if you prefer,
The Sexton and the Schoolmaster,
With others of a humbler sort,—
You’ll all be satisfied, in short.

THE DEAN.

Yes, we’ll relieve your burdens all,
As ye this day have brought relief
To your old shepherd in his grief.
Let each find comfort in the thought
That here a miracle was wrought.
Farewell! Good fortune to your haul!

THE SEXTON.

Ah, there’s true charity, if you will!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

So meek and unassuming still.

WOMEN.

So kindly, and so nice!

OTHER WOMEN.

And then
Such condescending gentlemen!

THE SEXTON.

_They_ don’t demand the martyr’s throe.

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

The Lord’s Prayer is not all they know.

[_The throng passes on downwards._

THE DEAN.
[_To the MAYOR._]

Ah, that has taken. It is plain
A great revulsion is in train;
For, by God’s blessed benefaction,
There is a thing men call Reaction.

THE MAYOR.

’Twas my achievement, to control
The infant riot ere it grew.

THE DEAN.

Ah, to the miracle most was due.

THE MAYOR.

What miracle?

THE DEAN.

The herring-shoal.

THE MAYOR.
[_Whistling._]

That was, I need not say, a lie.

THE DEAN.

Really, a lie?

THE MAYOR.

I just let loose
At the first fancy that came by;
Is it a sin such means to use
In such a cause?

THE DEAN.

God bless me, no
Need is an adequate excuse.

THE MAYOR.

And then, to-morrow, when the glow
Of agitation’s dead, or dying,
What will it matter if the end
Was gain’d by telling truth, or lying?

THE DEAN.

I am no formalist, my friend.
[_Looks up into the wild._]
But is’t not Brand that yonder drags
His slow course upward?

THE MAYOR.

Ay, you’re right!
A lonely warrior off to fight!

THE DEAN.

Nay, there’s another too—that lags
Far in the rear!

THE MAYOR.

Why;—that is Gerd;
The herdsman’s worthy of the herd.

THE DEAN.
[_Facetiously._]

When he has still’d his losing whim,
This is the epitaph for him:
“Here lieth Brand; his tale’s a sad one;
One soul he saved,—and that a mad one!”

THE MAYOR.
[_With his finger to his nose._]

But, on reflection, I have some
Misgivings that the folk’s decree
A little lack’d humanity.

THE DEAN.
[_Shrugging his shoulders._]

_Vox populi vox Dei._ Come!

[_They go._

--------------

_High up among the mountains. A storm is rising and chasing
the clouds heavily over the snow-slopes; black peaks
and summits appear here and there, and are veiled
again by the mist._

_BRAND comes, bleeding and broken, up the mountain._

BRAND.
[_Stops and looks backward._]

From the vale they follow’d thronging,
Never one has reached the height.
Through all bosoms thrill’d the longing
For a greater Day’s dawn-light;
Through all souls subduing strode
The alarum-call of God.
But the sacrifice they dread!
Will, the weakling, hides his head;—
_One_ man died for them of yore,—
Cowardice is crime no more!
[_Sinks down on a stone, and looks with
shrinking gaze around._]
Oft I shudder’d at their doom;
And I walk’d, with horror quivering,
As a little child walks shivering
Amid shrieking shapes that loom
In a dim and haunted room.
But I check’d my bosom’s quaking,
And bethought me, and consoled it:
Out of doors the day is breaking,
Not of night it is, this gloom,
But the shutters barr’d enfold it;
And I thought, the day inwelling,
Rich with summer’s golden bloom,
Shall anon prevail, expelling
All the darkness that is dwelling
In the dim and haunted room.
O how bitter my dismay!
Pitchy darkness on me broke,—
And, without, a nerveless folk
Sat forlorn by fjord and bay,
Dim traditions treasuring
While their sotted souls decay.
Even as, year by year, the king
Treasured up his Snefrid dead,
Loosed the linen shroud o’erspread
By her mute heart listening low,
Still upon hope’s fragments fed,
Thinking, “_Now_ the roses red
In her pallid ashes blow!”
None, like him, arose, and gave
The grave’s debt unto the grave;
None among them wise to know:
“Dreaming cannot kindle dust,
Down into the earth it must,
Dust is only made to breed
Nurture for the new-sown seed.”
Night, black night,—and night again
Over children, women, men!
O could I with levin-flame
Save them from the straw-death’s shame!
[_Leaps up._]
Gloomy visions I see sweep
Like the Wild Hunt through the night.
Lo, the Time is Tempest-dight,
Calls for heroes, death to dare,
Calls for naked steel to leap,
And for scabbards to hang bare;—
Kinsfolk, lo, to battle riding,
While their gentle brothers, hiding,
From the hat of darkness peep.
And yet more I do divine—
All the horror of their shame,—
Men that shriek and wives that whine,
Deaf to every cry and claim,
See them on their brows imprinting
“Poor folks sea-bound” for their name,
“Humble farthings of God’s minting!”
Pale they listen to the fray,—
Willing-weakness for their shield.—
Rainbow o’er the mead of May,
Flag, where fliest thou now afield?
Where’s that tricolor to-day,—
Which the wind of myriad song,
Beat and bellied from the mast
Till a zealot king at last
Split it into teeth and tongue?
But you used the tongue to brag;
And what boots the toothed flag
If the dragon dares not bite?
Would the folk had spared those cheers,
And the zealot king those shears!
Four-square flag of peace suffices,
When a stranded craft capsizes,
To give warning of her plight!
Direr visions, worse foreboding,
Glare upon me through the gloom!
Britain’s smoke-cloud sinks corroding
On the land in noisome fume;
Smirches all its tender bloom,
All its gracious verdure dashes,
Sweeping low with breath of bane,
Stealing sunlight from the plain,
Showering down like rain of ashes
On the city of God’s doom.—
Fouler featured men are grown;—
Dropping water’s humming drone
Echoes through the mine’s recesses:
Bustling, smug, a pigmy pack
Plucks its prey from ore’s embraces,
Walks with crooked soul and back,
Glares like dwarfs with greedy eyes
For the golden glittering lies;
Speechless souls with lips unsmiling,
Hearts that fall of brothers rends not,
Nor their own to fury frets,
Hammer-wielding, coining, filing;
Light’s last gleam forlornly flies;
For this bastard folk forgets
That the need of willing ends not
When the power of willing dies!
Direr visions, direr doom,
Glare upon me through the gloom.
Craft, the wolf, with howl and yell,
Bays at Wisdom, sun of earth;
Cries of ruin ring to North,
Call to arms by fjord and fell;
And the pigmy, quaking, grim,
Hisses: “What is that to him?”
Let the other nations glow,
Let the mighty meet the foe,
We can ill afford to bleed,—
We are weak, may fairly plead
From a giants’ war exemption,
Need not offer All as meed
For our fraction of Redemption.
Not for us the cup He drank,
Not for us the thorny wreath
In His temples drove its teeth,
Not for us the spear-shaft sank
In the Side whose life was still.
Not for us the burning thrill
Of the nails that clove and tore.
We, the weak, the least accounted,
Battle-summons may ignore!
Not for us the Cross He mounted!
Just the stirrup-slash’s stain,
Just the gash the cobbler scored
In the shoulder of the Lord,
Is our portion of His pain!
[_Throws himself down in the snow and covers
his face; presently he looks up._]
Was I dreaming! Dream I still?
Mist-enshrouded is the hill.
Were those visions but the vain
Phantoms of a fever’d brain?
Is the image clean outworn
Whereunto Man’s soul was born?
Is the Maker’s spirit fled——
[_Listening._]
Ha, what song breaks overhead?

INVISIBLE CHOIR.
[_In the sough of the storm._]

Never shalt thou win His spirit;
Thou in mortal flesh wast born:
Spurn his bidding or revere it;
Equally thou art forlorn.

BRAND.
[_Repeats the words, and says softly._]

Woe’s me, woe; I well may fear it!
Stood He not, and saw me pray,
Sternly smote my prayer away?
All I loved He has demanded,
All the ways of light seal’d fast,
Made me battle single-handed,
And be overthrown at last!

THE CHOIR.
[_Louder, above him._]

Worm, thou mayst not win His spirit,—
For Death’s cup thou hast consumed;
Fear His Will, or do not fear it,
Equally thy work is doom’d.

BRAND.
[_Softly._]

Agnes, Alf, the gladsome life
When unrest and pain I knew not—
I exchanged for tears and strife,
In my own heart plunged the knife,—
But the fiend of evil slew not.

THE CHOIR.
[_Tender and alluring._]

Dreamer, thine is not His spirit,
Nought to Him thy gifts are worth;
Heaven thou never shalt inherit,
Earth-born creature, live for Earth!

BRAND.
[_Breaks into soft weeping._]

Alf and Agnes, come unto me!
Lone I sit upon this peak!
Keen the north wind pierces through me,
Phantoms seize me, chill ones, meek——!

_He looks up; a glimmering space opens and clears in the
mist; the APPARITION of a WOMAN stands in it, brightly
clad, with a cloak over its shoulders. It is AGNES._

THE PHANTOM.
[_Smiles, and spreads its arms towards him._]

See, again, Brand, I have found thee!

BRAND.
[_Starting up in bewilderment._]

Agnes! Agnes! What is this?

THE PHANTOM.

Dearest, it is thy release
From the fever’d dreams that bound thee!

BRAND.

Agnes! Agnes!

[_He is hurrying towards her._

THE PHANTOM.
[_Screams._]

Cross not! Deep
Rolls between us the abyss,
Where the mountain-torrents sweep!
[_Tenderly._]
Thou dost dream not, neither sleep,
Nor with phantoms wagest war;
Dear, by sickness thou wast wasted,—
Frenzy’s bitter cup hast tasted,
Dreamt, thy wife had fled afar.

BRAND.

Oh, thou livest! Blessed be——!

THE PHANTOM.
[_Hastily._]

Peace! Of that no murmur now!
Follow fast, the moments press.

BRAND.

Oh, but Alf!

THE PHANTOM.

Alive, no less.

BRAND.

Lives!

THE PHANTOM.

And with unfaded brow!
All thy sorrows did but seem!
All thy battles were a dream,
Alf is with thy mother; she
Vigorous yet, and stalwart he;
Still the old Church stands entire;
Pluck it down if thou desire;—
And the dalesmen still drudge on
As they did in good days gone.

BRAND.

“Good!”

THE PHANTOM.

For days of peace they were.

BRAND.

“Peace?”

THE PHANTOM.

O haste thee, Brand, O fly!

BRAND.

Woe, I dream!

THE PHANTOM.

Thy dream’s gone by,
But thou needest sheltering care——

BRAND.

I am strong.

THE PHANTOM.

Ah me, not yet;
Still the fell dream lies in wait.
Once again from wife and child
It shall sweep thee, cloud-beguiled,
Once again thy soul obscure,—
If thou wilt not seek the cure.

BRAND.

Oh, vouchsafe it!

THE PHANTOM.

Thou availest,
Thou alone, that cure to reach.

BRAND.

Name it then!

THE PHANTOM.

The aged leech,
Who has conn’d so many a page,—
The unfathomably sage,
He discovered where thou ailest.
All the phantoms of thy strife,
_Three words_ conjured them to life.
Them thou boldly must recall,
From thy memory efface them,
From thy conscience blot, erase them;
At their bidding, lo, thou burnest
In this maddening blast of bane;—
O forget them, if thou yearnest
To make white thy soul again!

BRAND.

Say, what are they?

THE PHANTOM.

_Nought or all._

BRAND.
[_Reeling back._]

Is it so?

THE PHANTOM.

So sure as I
Am alive, and thou wilt die.

BRAND.

Woe on us! The sword once more
Swings above us, as before!

THE PHANTOM.

Brand, be kind; my breast is warm;
Clasp me close in thy strong arm;—
Let us fly where summer’s sun——

BRAND.

Never more that plague shall bind me.

THE PHANTOM.

Ah, Brand, all is not yet won.

BRAND.
[_Shaking his head._]

I have flung that dream behind me.
Me no more that phantom-strife’s
Horror thrills;—but Life’s! but Life’s!

THE PHANTOM.

Life’s?

BRAND.

Come, Agnes, where I lead!

THE PHANTOM.

Brand, what is it thou wilt do?

BRAND.

What I must: the _dream_ make _true_,—
Live the vision into deed.

THE PHANTOM.

Ha, thou canst not! Think but whither
That road led thee.

BRAND.

Thither! Thither!

THE PHANTOM.

What thou dared’st, dream-beguiled,
Wilt thou, whole and waking, dare?

BRAND.

Whole and waking.

THE PHANTOM.

Lose the child?

BRAND.

Lose it.

THE PHANTOM.

Brand!

BRAND.

I must.

THE PHANTOM.

And tear
Me all bleeding from the snare?
With the rods of sacrifice
Scourge me to the death?

BRAND.

I must.

THE PHANTOM.

Quench the glow of sunny skies,
Turn all bright things into dust,
Never pluck life’s fruitage fair,
Never be upborne by song?
Ah, so many memories throng!

BRAND.

Nought avails. Lose not thy prayer.

THE PHANTOM.

Heed’st thou not thy martyr’s meed?
Baffled where thou sought’st to waken,
Stoned by all, by all forsaken?

BRAND.

Not for recompense I bleed;
Not for trophies do I fight.

THE PHANTOM.

For a race that walks entomb’d.

BRAND.

One to many can give light.

THE PHANTOM.

All their generation’s doom’d.

BRAND.

Much availeth one will’s might.

THE PHANTOM.

“One” with fiery sword of yore
Man of Paradise bereft!
At the gate a gulf he cleft;—
Over that thou mayst not soar!

BRAND.

But the path of _yearning’s_ left.

THE PHANTOM.

[_Vanishes in a thunder-clap; the mist fills the place where
it stood; and a piercing scream is heard, as of one
flying._]

Die! Earth cannot use thee more!

BRAND.
[_Stands a moment in bewilderment._]

Out into the mist it leapt,—
Plumy wings of falcon beating,
Down along the moorland swept.
For a finger it was treating,
That the hand might be its prize—!
Ha, the Spirit of Compromise!

GERD.
[_Comes with a rifle._]

Hast thou seen the falcon?

BRAND.

Yea;
This time I have seen him.

GERD.

Say,
Quick, which way thou saw’st him fly;
We will chase him, thou and I.

BRAND.

Steel and bullet he defies;
Oftentimes you think he flies
Stricken by the mortal lead,—
But draw near to strike him dead,
Up he starts again, secure,
With the old cajoling lure.

GERD.

See, the hunter’s gun I’ve got,
Steel and silver is the shot;
’Trow, my wits are less astray
Than they reckon!

BRAND.

Have thy way.

[_Going._

GERD.

Priest, thou walkest lame afoot.

BRAND.

I was hunted.

GERD.

Red thy brow
As the blood of thy heart’s root!

BRAND.

I was beaten.

GERD.

Musical
Was thy voice of old, that now
Rattles like the leaves of Fall.

BRAND.

I was——

GERD.

What?

BRAND.

By one and all
Spurn’d.

GERD.
[_Looking at him with great eyes._]

Aha,—I know thee now!
For the priest I took thee;—pest
Take the priest and all the rest!
The One, greatest Man art thou!

BRAND.

So I madly dared to trust.

GERD.

Let me look upon thy hands!

BRAND.

On my hands?

GERD.

They’re pierced and torn!
In thy hair the blood-dew stands,
Riven by the fanged thorn
In thy forehead fiercely thrust,
Thou the crucifix didst span!
In my childhood Father told me
’Twas another, long ago,
Far away, that suffer’d so;—
Now I see he only fool’d me;—
Thou art the Redeeming man!

BRAND.

Get thee hence!

GERD.

Shall I not fall
Low before thy feet and pray?

BRAND.

Hence!

GERD.

_Thou_ gavest the blood away
That hath might to save us all!

BRAND.

Oh, no saving plank I see,
In my own soul’s agony!

GERD.

Take the rifle. Shoot them dead—

BRAND.
[_Shaking his head._]

Man must struggle till he falls.

GERD.

Oh, not thou; thou art the head!
By the nails thy hands were gored;—
Thou art chosen; thou art Lord.

BRAND.

I’m the meanest worm that crawls.

GERD.
[_Looks up; the clouds are lifting._]

Know’st thou where thou stand’st?

BRAND.
[_Gazing before him._]

Below
The first step of the ascent;
It is far, and I am faint.

GERD.
[_More fiercely._]

Say! Where art thou, dost thou know?

BRAND.

Yes, now falls the misty shroud.

GERD.

Yes, it falls: without a cloud
Svartetind impales the blue!

BRAND.
[_Looking up._]

Svartetind? The ice-church?

GERD.

Yea!
Here thou camest churchward, too!

BRAND.

Hence! a thousand miles away!—
How I long to fly afar,
Where the sunlight and the balm
And the holy hush of calm,
And Life’s summer-kingdoms are!
[_Bursts into tears._]
Jesus, I have cried and pleaded,—
From thy bosom still outcast;
Thou hast pass’d me by unheeded
As a well-worn word is passed;
Of salvation’s vesture, stain’d
With the wine of tears unfeign’d,
Let me clasp one fold at last!

GERD.
[_Pale._]

What is this? Then weepest, thou,
Hot tears, till thy cheek is steaming,—
And the glacier’s death-shroud streaming
Silently from crag and crest,—
And my memory’s frozen tides
Melt to weeping in my breast,—
And the snowy surplice glides
Down the Ice-priest’s giant sides—
[_Trembling._]
Man, why wept’st thou not till now?

BRAND.
[_Radiant, clear, and with an air of renewed youth._]

Through the Law an ice-track led,—
Then broke summer overhead!
Till to-day I strove alone
To be God’s pure tablet-stone;—
From to-day my life shall stream
Lambent, glowing, as a dream.
The ice-fetters break away,
I can weep,—and kneel,—and pray!

[_Sinks upon his knees._

GERD.
[_Looks askance upwards, and then, softly and timidly._]

There he sits, the ugly sprite!
’Tis his shadow sweeps the land,
Where he flogs the mountain height
With his flapping vans in flight.
Now Redemption is at hand——
If the silver will but bite!

[_Puts the rifle to her cheek and shoots. A hollow
roar, as of distant thunder, is heard far up the
precipice._

BRAND.
[_Starting up._]

Ha, what dost thou?

GERD.

Down he slides!
I have hit him;—down he swings,—
Shrieking, till the echo rings;
Plumes in thousand from his sides
Flutter down the beetling brae;—
See how large he looms, how white—!
Ha, he’s rolling down this way!

BRAND.
[_Sinking down._]

Blood of children must be spilt
To atone the parent’s guilt!

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.

PRINTED BY
BALLANTYNE & COMPANY LTD
AT THE BALLANTYNE PRESS
TAVISTOCK STREET COVENT GARDEN
LONDON

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Transcriber’s Note

There are quite a few instances of missing punctuation. The conventional period following the character’s name is sometimes missing and has been added for consistency’s sake without further comment. Those missing from setting and stage direction are also added without comment, since there is no obvious purpose to be served by the omission. However, the restoration of punctuation missing from dialogue is noted below, since the punctuation is frequently expressive.

Volume I of this series included errata for each succeeding volume. Some, but not all, of the corrections indicated there had been made before the printing employed here. Those that remained unchanged have been corrected here, and noted as such.

Other errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original.

vii.7 sense of national disgrace[.] Added.

3.4 _and nearly dark[.]_ Added.

4.19 is where it’s trod[.] Added.

7.8 Then come[.] Added.

8.20 come back[!] Added.

10.4 he calls serving God[.] Added.

32.39 And red-and-yellow circled eye[.] Added.

37.12 BRAND comes forward, unnoticed[,] Added.

38.6 You don’t know just how many, e[n/h?]

41.33 The purblind sight takes falcon-wing[s] Added, per
Errata.

44.19 Great God on high[!] Added.

46.16 and to the grave[.] Added.

47.26 you see your part[.] Added.

71.3 [’]Twere best I took Restored.

75.31 and hard to bear[.] Added.

84.19 calls by that name “Love,[”] Added.

88.9 to wash her soul from sin. Added.

88.20 Yes, in you[r] ledger Added.

90.29 what sees he now[.] Added.

91.2 No summons, no[.] Added.

94.21 or else send her a God-speed[.] Added.

113.22 To-morrow’s best[.] Added.

134.32 meaning half-express[’]d Inserted.

136.17 But unbroken i[n/s] her Will. Replaced,
per Errata.

139.31 “Black as snow[.”] Added.

148.5 And has not room therein to soar[.] Added.

150.13 No, Brand, I’m utterly dumbfounded[.] Added.

152.25 by death and hell[.] Added.

154.8 B[L/R]AND. Replaced.

158.13 No[!] Added.

161.15 thou’lt nothing find[.] Added.

177.2 At the cross-way stand’st thou: choose[!] Added.

177.34 At the cross-way stand’st thou: choose[!] Added.

172.28 By the child to Death’s Font[.] Added.

175.26 Thou hast conquered now[.] Added.

178.18 Good-night[.] Added.

179.23 in a gold field[.] Added.

182.27 Never[!] Added.

184.12 Hark[!] Added.

191.34 Will be ringing with “the priest[”] Added.

192.21 I’m suffocated[.] Added.

193.18 They’ve higher standards, I’m aware[?/.] Replaced.

204.1 At that projected Tower of Babe[l] Added, per
Errata.

213.22 That[’s] unimportant, I prefer Added.

226.14 Hark! your women cry in chorus[!] Added.

229.17 He’s prophesying! He’s prophesying[!] Added.

235.8 O lucky chance I caught you up[.] Added.

235.10 Ah, dear kind master, don’t be stern[.] Added.

254.17 I must[.] Added.

255.5 For a race that walks entomb’d[.] Added.

255.18 But the path of _yearning’s_ left[.] Added.

258.30 Take the rifle[.] Added.

259.28 Svartetind? The ice-church[?] Added.