CHORUS.
My wings I open, my sails spread wide,
And cleave like an eagle life's glassy tide;
Gulls follow my furrow's foaming;
Overboard with the ballast of care and cark;
And what if I shatter my roaming bark,
It is passing sweet to be roaming!
FALK [starting from a reverie].
What, music? Ah, it will be Lind's quartette
Getting their jubilation up.—Well met!
[To GULDSTAD, who enters with an overcoat on his arm.
Ah, slipping off, sir?
GULDSTAD.
Yes, with your goodwill.
But let me first put on my overcoat.
We prose-folks are susceptible to chill;
The night wind takes us by the tuneless throat.
Good evening!
FALK.
Sir, a word ere you proceed!
Show me a task, a mighty one, you know—!
I'm going in for life—!
GULDSTAD [with ironical emphasis].
Well, in you go!
You'll find that you are in for it, indeed.
FALK [looking reflectively at him, says slowly].
There is my program, furnished in a phrase.
[In a lively outburst.
Now I have wakened from my dreaming days,
I've cast the die of life's supreme transaction,
I'll show you—else the devil take me—
GULDSTAD.
Fie,
No cursing: curses never scared a fly.
FALK.
Words, words, no more, but action, only action!
I will reverse the plan of the Creation;—
Six days were lavish'd in that occupation;
My world's still lying void and desolate,
Hurrah, to-morrow, Sunday—I'll create!
GULDSTAD [laughing].
Yes, strip, and tackle it like a man, that's right!
But first go in and sleep on it. Good-night!
[Goes out to the left. SVANHILD appears in the
room over the verandah; she shuts the window
and draws down the blind.
FALK.
No, first I'll act. I've slept too long and late.
[Looks up at SVANHILD's window, and exclaims, as
if seized with a sudden resolution:
Good-night! Good-night! Sweet dreams to-night be thine;
To-morrow, Svanhild, thou art plighted mine!
[Goes out quickly to the right; from the water the
CHORUS is heard again.