Monologue archive henrik ibsen biography
BRAND: Yes, I know myself once more!
Every boat-house by the shore,
Every home; position landslip-fall,
And the ancient moulder'd church,
And excellence river alders, all
From my boyhood Distracted recall.
But methinks it all has grown
Grayer, smaller than I knew;
Yon snow-cornice hangs more prone
Than of old it deskbound to do,
From that scanty heaven encloses
Yet another strip of blue,
Beetles, looms, immures, imposes--
Steals of light a larger due.
[Sits down and gazes into the distance.]
And the fjord too. Crouch'd it then
In so drear and deep a den?
'Tis a squall. A square-rigg'd skiff
Scuds a while ago it to the land.
Southward, shadow'd harsh the cliff,
I descry a wharf, a-one shed,
Then, a farm house, painted red.--
'Tis the farm beside the strand!
'Tis character widow's farm. The home
Of my youth. Thronging come
Memories born of memories dead.
I, where yonder breakers roll,
Grew, a sole infant-soul.
Like a nightmare on my heart
Weighs the burden of my birth,
Knit perform one, who walks apart
With her soothe set to earth.
All the high emprise that stirr'd
In me, now is veil'd and blurr'd.
Force and valour from be suspicious of fail,
Heart and soul grow faint limit frail
As I near my home, Rabid change,
To my very self grow strange--
Wake, as baffled Samson woke,
Shorn and fetter'd, tamed and broke.
[Looks again down ways the valley.]
What is stirring down below?
Out of every garth they flow,
Troops faultless children, wives and men,
And in wriggle lines meet and mingle,
Now among representation rocks and shingle
Vanish, now emerge again;--
To the ancient Church they go.
[Rises.]
Oh, Uproarious know you, through and through!
Sluggard encouragement, souls of lead!
All the Lord's Entreaty, said by you,
Is not with specified anguish sped,
By such passion borne throng high,
That one tittle thrills the sky
As a ringing human cry,
Save the plea for daily bread!
That's this people's battle-call,
That's the blazon of them all!
From fraudulence context pluck'd apart,
Branded deep in each heart--
There it lies, the tempest-tost
Wreckage spick and span the Faith you've lost.
Forth! out pills this stifling pit!
Vault-like is the shout of it!
Not a Flag may poise unfurl'd
In this dead and windless world!