be shocked to find the poet
whom they have written down an "anarchist" confessing such bourgeois
motives.

After his return to Norway, Ibsen's correspondence became very scant,
and we have no letters dating from the period when he was at work on
_The Master Builder_. On the other hand, we possess a curious lyrical
prelude to the play, which he put on paper on March 16, 1892. It is
said to have been his habit, before setting to work on a play, to
"crystallise in a poem the mood which then possessed him;" but the
following is the only one of these keynote poems which has been
published. I give it in the original language, with a literal
translation:

DE SAD DER, DE TO--

De sad der, de to, i saa lunt et hus
ved host og i venterdage,
Saa braendte huset. Alt ligger i grus.
De to faar i asken rage.

For nede id en er et smykke gemt,--
et smykke, som aldrig kan braende.
Og leder de trofast, haender det nemt
at det findes af ham eller hende.

Men finder de end, brandlidte to,
det dyre, ildfaste smykke,--
aldrig han finder sin braendte tro,
han aldrig sin braendte lykke.

THEY SAT THERE, THE TWO--

They sat there, the two, in so cosy a house, through autumn
and winter days. Then the house burned down. Everything
lies in ruins. The two must grope among the ashes.

For among them is hidden a jewel--a jewel that never can burn.
And if they search faithfully, it may easily happen that he
or she may find it.

But even should they find it, the burnt-out two--find this
precious unburnable jewel--never will she find her burnt faith,
he never his burnt happiness.

This is the latest piece of Ibsen's verse that has been given to the
world; but one of his earliest poems--first printed in 1858--was also,
in some sort, a prelude to _The Master Builder_. Of this a literal
translation may suffice. It is called,

BUILDING-PLANS

I remember as clearly as if it had been to-day the evening
when, in the paper, I saw my first poem in print. There I
sat in my den, and, with long-drawn puffs, I smoked and I
dreamed in blissful self-complacency.

"I will build a cloud-castle. It shall shine all over the
North. It shall have two wings: one little and one great.
The great wing shall shelter a deathless poet; the little
wing shall serve as a young girl's bower."

The plan seemed to me nobly harmonious; but as time went o