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Early Plays — Catiline, the Warrior's Barrow, Olaf Liljekrans by Henrik Ibsen
page 96 of 328 (29%)

MANLIUS. Cast off these gloomy thoughts and take your rest!
Remember that the morrow may require
Your utmost strength for our deliverance.

CATILINE. I cannot rest. If I but close my eyes
One fleeting moment in forgetful slumber,
I'm tossed about in strange, fantastic dreams.
Here on my couch I lay now, half asleep,
When these same visions reappeared again,
More strange than ever,--more mysterious
And puzzling--. Ah, if I could only know
What this forebodes! But no--

MANLIUS. Confide your dream
To me. Perhaps I can expound its meaning.

CATILINE. [After a pause.]
If I slept or if I waked, scarcely can I say;
Visions fast pursued each other in a mad array.
Soon a deepening twilight settles over everything;
And a night swoops down upon me on her wide-spread wing,
Terrible and dark, unpierced, save by the lightning's flare;
I am in a grave-like dungeon, filled with clammy air.
Lofty is the ceiling and with thunderclouds o'ercast;
Multitudes of shadow forms go racing wildly past,
Whirl around in roaring eddies, as the ocean wave
Draws the raging storm and breaks against a rocky cave.
Yet amid this frenzied tumult children often come,
Decked in flowers, singing of a half-forgotten home.
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