THE COLLECTED POEMS OF HENRIK IBSEN Translated by John ...

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He soon recovered, though, and twinkled round
as though he’d wrought that marvel in some measure;
he called out to the pair: “Give at your leisure!
Give to the hilt; you’re welcome, I’ll be bound!
Dish out by finger-bowl or bucket and,
the biggest as the least, we’ll take all, flatly!” —
And his eye glistened as he smiled there, fatly, —
then he looked round, his gaze encountered Brand.
He nodded, laughed, and pointing with his pipe
called out: “Turn round folk! Look, here’s more arriving!
I do believe the time I chose was ripe;
more bounty I dare say, — you’ll soon be thriving!
You’re welcome, sir! Come down! It’s poor we are!
You’ve heard about our floods, drought-stricken weather?
We’re all here in the wilderness together,
and my five little fishes won’t go far!”
But Brand stayed where he was, cold, pale and serious;
the priest, that moment, had a noble air;
and yet he seemed untouched at heart, imperious,
for all the crowd’s mute sighs and its despair.
He shook his head, made for a while no stir,
then answered: “Yes, I’ve bread, could play the giver,
but rather than give you the merest sliver,
I’d throw it all away to feed some cur.
“Where is the heart in you dares risk attaining?
Where is, amongst you, strength to share abroad?
Where is your spirit that would, uncomplaining,
submit to castigation from the Lord?
Join me! I can a better gift bestow you
than recompense for pains lost past recall;
but cast your burdens off and I shall show you
the meaning of God’s writing on the wall!”
It was as though a monarch stood amid them,
they yielded so obedient to his voice,
and as he left some bondage seemed to bid them
walk in the stranger’s steps, they had no choice.
Without a sound they dropped what they’d been given,
no matter whether less or whether more,
and still they followed, to the church’s door,
in silence and by strange excitement driven.
The key was turned; Brand sought the pulpit; mounted;
“This is a priest!” they whispered, much impressed.
But he, that sunlike beamer, now discounted,
skulked by the door, an uninvited guest.
Within the gloom, dead silence; none dared utter
as they filled up the benches row by row;