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