I. SENDINGSo on the floor lay Balder dead; and roundLay thickly strewn swords, axes, darts, and spears,Which all the Gods in sport had idly thrownAt Balder, whom no weapon pierced or clove;But in his breast stood fixt the fatal boughOf mistletoe, which Lok the Accuser gaveTo Hoder, and unwitting Hoder threw—'Gainst that alone had Balder's life no charm.And all the Gods and all the Heroes came,And stood round Balder on the bloody floor,Weeping and wailing; and Valhalla rangUp to its golden roof with sobs and cries;And on the tables stood the untasted meats,And in the horns and gold-rimm'd skulls the wine.And now would night have fall'n, and found them yetWailing; but otherwise was Odin's will.And thus the father of the ages spake:—"Enough of tears, ye Gods, enough of wail!Not to lament in was Valhalla made.If any here might weep for Balder's death,I most might weep, his father; such a sonI lose to-day, so bright, so loved a God.But he has met that doom, which long agoThe Nornies, when his mother bare him, spun,And fate set seal, that so his end must be.Balder has met his death, and ye survive—Weep him an hour, but what can grief avail?For ye yourselves, ye Gods, shall meet your doom,All ye who hear me, and inhabit Heaven,And I too, Odin too, the Lord of all.But ours we shall not meet, when that day comes,With women's tears and weak complaining cries—Why should we meet another's portion so?Rather it fits you, having wept your hour,With cold dry eyes, and hearts composed and stern,To live, as erst, your daily life in Heaven.By me shall vengeance on the murderer Lok,The foe, the accuser, whom, though Gods, we hate,Be strictly cared for, in the appointed day.Meanwhile, to-morrow, when the morning dawns,Bring wood to the seashore to Balder's ship,And on the deck build high a funeral-pile,And on the top lay Balder's corpse, and putFire to the wood, and send him out to seaTo burn; for that is what the dead desire."So spake the King of Gods, and straightway rose,And mounted his horse Sleipner, whom he rode;And from the hall of Heaven he rode awayTo Lidskialf, and sate upon his throne,The mount, from whence his eye surveys the world.And far from Heaven he turn'd his shining orbsTo look on Midgard, and the earth, and men.And on the conjuring Lapps he bent his gazeWhom antler'd reindeer pull over the snow;And on the Finns, the gentlest of mankind,Fair men, who live in holes under the ground;Nor did he look once more to Ida's plain,Nor tow'rd Valhalla, and the sorrowing Gods;For well he knew the Gods would heed his word,And cease to mourn, and think of Balder's pyre.But in Valhalla all the Gods went backFrom around Balder, all the Heroes went;And left his body stretch'd upon the floor.And on their golden chairs they sate again,Beside the tables, in the hall of Heaven;And before each the cooks who served them placedNew messes of the boar Serimner's flesh,And the Valkyries crown'd their horns with mead.So they, with pent-up hearts and tearless eyes,Wailing no more, in silence ate and drank,While twilight fell, and sacred night came on.But the blind Hoder left the feasting GodsIn Odin's hall, and went through Asgard streets,And past the haven where the Gods have moor'dTheir ships, and through the gate, beyond the wall;Though sightless, yet his own mind led the God.Down to the margin of the roaring seaHe came, and sadly went along the sand,Between the waves and black o'erhanging cliffsWhere in and out the screaming seafowl fly;Until he came to where a gully breaksThrough the cliff-wall, and a fresh stream runs downFrom the high moors behind, and meets the sea.There, in the glen, Fensaler stands, the houseOf Frea, honour'd mother of the Gods,And shows its lighted windows to the main.There he went up, and pass'd the open doors;And in the hall he found those women old,The prophetesses, who by rite eterneOn Frea's hearth feed high the sacred fireBoth night and day; and by the inner wallUpon her golden chair the Mother sate,With folded hands, revolving things to come.To her drew Hoder near, and spake, and said:—"Mother, a child of bale thou bar'st in me!For, first, thou barest me with blinded eyes,Sightless and helpless, wandering weak in Heaven;And, after that, of ignorant witless mindThou barest me, and unforeseeing soul;That I alone must take the branch from Lok,The foe, the accuser, whom, though Gods, we hate,And cast it at the dear-loved Balder's breastAt whom the Gods in sport their weapons threw—'Gainst that alone had Balder's life no charm.Now therefore what to attempt, or whither fly,For who will bear my hateful sight in Heaven?Can I, O mother, bring them Balder back?Or—for thou know'st the fates, and things allow'd—Can I with Hela's power a compact strike,And make exchange, and give my life for his?"He spoke: the mother of the Gods replied:—"Hoder, ill-fated, child of bale, my son,Sightless in soul and eye, what words are these?That one, long portion'd with his doom of death,Should change his lot, and fill another's life,And Hela yield to this, and let him go!On Balder Death hath laid her hand, not thee;Nor doth she count this life a price for that.For many Gods in Heaven, not thou alone,Would freely die to purchase Balder back,And wend themselves to Hela's gloomy realm.For not so gladsome is that life in HeavenWhich Gods and heroes lead, in feast and fray,Waiting the darkness of the final times,That one should grudge its loss for Balder's sake,Balder their joy, so bright, so loved a God.But fate withstands, and laws forbid this way.Yet in my secret mind one way I know,Nor do I judge if it shall win or fail;But much must still be tried, which shall but fail."And the blind Hoder answer'd her, and said:—"What way is this, O mother, that thou show'st?Is it a matter which a God might try?"And straight the mother of the Gods replied:—"There is a road which leads to Hela's realm,Untrodden, lonely, far from light and Heaven.Who goes that way must take no other horseTo ride, but Sleipner, Odin's horse, alone.Nor must he choose that common path of GodsWhich every day they come and go in Heaven,O'er the bridge Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch,Past Midgard fortress, down to earth and men.But he must tread a dark untravell'd roadWhich branches from the north of Heaven, and rideNine days, nine nights, toward the northern ice,Through valleys deep-engulph'd, with roaring streams.And he will reach on the tenth morn a bridgeWhich spans with golden arches Giall's stream,Not Bifrost, but that bridge a damsel keeps,Who tells the passing troops of dead their wayTo the low shore of ghosts, and Hela's realm.And she will bid him northward steer his course.Then he will journey through no lighted land,Nor see the sun arise, nor see it set;But he must ever watch the northern Bear,Who from her frozen height with jealous eyeConfronts the Dog and Hunter in the south,And is alone not dipt in Ocean's stream.And straight he will come down to Ocean's strand—Ocean, whose watery ring enfolds the world,And on whose marge the ancient giants dwell.But he will reach its unknown northern shore,Far, far beyond the outmost giant's home,At the chink'd fields of ice, the waste of snow.And he must fare across the dismal iceNorthward, until he meets a stretching wallBarring his way, and in the wall a grate.But then he must dismount, and on the iceTighten the girths of Sleipner, Odin's horse,And make him leap the grate, and come within.And he will see stretch round him Hela's realm,The plains of Niflheim, where dwell the dead,And hear the roaring of the streams of Hell.And he will see the feeble, shadowy tribes,And Balder sitting crown'd, and Hela's throne.Then must he not regard the wailful ghostsWho all will flit, like eddying leaves, around;But he must straight accost their solemn queen,And pay her homage, and entreat with prayers,Telling her all that grief they have in HeavenFor Balder, whom she holds by right below;If haply he may melt her heart with words,And make her yield, and give him Balder back."She spoke; but Hoder answer'd her and said:—"Mother, a dreadful way is this thou show'st;No journey for a sightless God to go!"And straight the mother of the Gods replied:—"Therefore thyself thou shalt not go, my son.But he whom first thou meetest when thou com'stTo Asgard, and declar'st this hidden way,Shall go; and I will be his guide unseen."She spoke, and on her face let fall her veil,And bow'd her head, and sate with folded hands,But at the central hearth those women old,Who while the Mother spake had ceased their toil,Began again to heap the sacred fire.And Hoder turn'd, and left his mother's house,Fensaler, whose lit windows look to sea;And came again down to the roaring waves,And back along the beach to Asgard went,Pondering on that which Frea said should be.But night came down, and darken'd Asgard streetsThen from their loathéd feasts the Gods arose,And lighted torches, and took up the corpseOf Balder from the floor of Odin's hall,And laid it on a bier, and bare him homeThrough the fast-darkening streets to his own house,Breidablik, on whose columns Balder gravedThe enchantments that recall the dead to life.For wise he was, and many curious arts,Postures of runes, and healing herbs he knew;Unhappy! but that art he did not know,To keep his own life safe, and see the sun.There to his hall the Gods brought Balder home,And each bespake him as he laid him down:—"Would that ourselves, O Balder, we were borneHome to our halls, with torchlight, by our kin,So thou might'st live, and still delight the Gods!"They spake; and each went home to his own house.But there was one, the first of all the GodsFor speed, and Hermod was his name in Heaven;Most fleet he was, but now he went the last,Heavy in heart for Balder, to his house,Which he in Asgard built him, there to dwell,Against the harbour, by the city-wall.Him the blind Hoder met, as he came upFrom the sea cityward, and knew his step;Nor yet could Hermod see his brother's face,For it grew dark; but Hoder touch'd his arm.And as a spray of honeysuckle flowersBrushes across a tired traveller's faceWho shuffles through the deep dew-moisten'd dust,On a May evening, in the darken'd lanes,And starts him, that he thinks a ghost went by—So Hoder brush'd by Hermod's side, and said:—"Take Sleipner, Hermod, and set forth with dawnTo Hela's kingdom, to ask Balder back;And they shall be thy guides, who have the power."He spake, and brush'd soft by, and disappear'd.And Hermod gazed into the night, and said:—"Who is it utters through the dark his hestSo quickly, and will wait for no reply?The voice was like the unhappy Hoder's voice.Howbeit I will see, and do his hest;For there rang note divine in that command."So speaking, the fleet-footed Hermod cameHome, and lay down to sleep in his own house;And all the Gods lay down in their own homes.And Hoder too came home, distraught with grief,Loathing to meet, at dawn, the other Gods;And he went in, and shut the door, and fixtHis sword upright, and fell on it, and died.But from the hill of Lidskialf Odin rose,The throne, from which his eye surveys the world;And mounted Sleipner, and in darkness rodeTo Asgard. And the stars came out in heaven,High over Asgard, to light home the King.But fiercely Odin gallop'd, moved in heart;And swift to Asgard, to the gate, he came.And terribly the hoofs of Sleipner rangAlong the flinty floor of Asgard streets,And the Gods trembled on their golden bedsHearing the wrathful Father coming home—For dread, for like a whirlwind, Odin came.And to Valhalla's gate he rode, and leftSleipner; and Sleipner went to his own stall;And in Valhalla Odin laid him down.But in Breidablik, Nanna, Balder's wife,Came with the Goddesses who wrought her will,And stood by Balder lying on his bier.And at his head and feet she station'd ScaldsWho in their lives were famous for their song;These o'er the corpse intoned a plaintive strain,A dirge—and Nanna and her train replied.And far into the night they wail'd their dirge.But when their souls were satisfied with wail,They went, and laid them down, and Nanna wentInto an upper chamber, and lay down;And Frea seal'd her tired lids with sleep.And 'twas when night is bordering hard on dawn,When air is chilliest, and the stars sunk low;Then Balder's spirit through the gloom drew near,In garb, in form, in feature as he was,Alive; and still the rays were round his headWhich were his glorious mark in Heaven; he stoodOver against the curtain of the bed,And gazed on Nanna as she slept, and spake:—"Poor lamb, thou sleepest, and forgett'st thy woe!Tears stand upon the lashes of thine eyes,Tears wet the pillow by thy cheek; but thou,Like a young child, hast cried thyself to sleep.Sleep on; I watch thee, and am here to aid.Alive I kept not far from thee, dear soul!Neither do I neglect thee now, though dead.For with to-morrow's dawn the Gods prepareTo gather wood, and build a funeral-pileUpon my ship, and burn my corpse with fire,That sad, sole honour of the dead; and theeThey think to burn, and all my choicest wealth,With me, for thus ordains the common rite.But it shall not be so; but mild, but swift,But painless shall a stroke from Frea come,To cut thy thread of life, and free thy soul,And they shall burn thy corpse with mine, not thee.And well I know that by no stroke of death,Tardy or swift, would'st thou be loath to die,So it restored thee, Nanna, to my side,Whom thou so well hast loved; but I can smoothThy way, and this, at least, my prayers avail.Yes, and I fain would altogether wardDeath from thy head, and with the Gods in HeavenProlong thy life, though not by thee desired—But right bars this, not only thy desire.Yet dreary, Nanna, is the life they leadIn that dim world, in Hela's mouldering realm;And doleful are the ghosts, the troops of dead,Whom Hela with austere control presides.For of the race of Gods is no one there,Save me alone, and Hela, solemn queen;And all the nobler souls of mortal menOn battle-field have met their death, and nowFeast in Valhalla, in my father's hall;Only the inglorious sort are there below,The old, the cowards, and the weak are there—Men spent by sickness, or obscure decay.But even there, O Nanna, we might findSome solace in each other's look and speech,Wandering together through that gloomy world,And talking of the life we led in Heaven,While we yet lived, among the other Gods."He spake, and straight his lineaments beganTo fade; and Nanna in her sleep stretch'd outHer arms towards him with a cry—but heMournfully shook his head, and disappear'd.And as the woodman sees a little smokeHang in the air, afield, and disappear,So Balder faded in the night away.And Nanna on her bed sank back; but thenFrea, the mother of the Gods, with strokePainless and swift, set free her airy soul,Which took, on Balder's track, the way below;And instantly the sacred morn appear'd.2. JOURNEY TO THE DEADForth from the east, up the ascent of Heaven,Day drove his courser with the shining mane;And in Valhalla, from his gable-perch,The golden-crested cock began to crow.Hereafter, in the blackest dead of night,With shrill and dismal cries that bird shall crow,Warning the Gods that foes draw nigh to Heaven;But now he crew at dawn, a cheerful note,To wake the Gods and Heroes to their tasks.And all the Gods, and all the Heroes, woke.And from their beds the Heroes rose, and donn'dTheir arms, and led their horses from the stall,And mounted them, and in Valhalla's courtWere ranged; and then the daily fray began.And all day long they there are hack'd and hewn,'Mid dust, and groans, and limbs lopp'd off, and blood;But all at night return to Odin's hall,Woundless and fresh; such lot is theirs in Heaven.And the Valkyries on their steeds went forthTow'rd earth and fights of men; and at their sideSkulda, the youngest of the Nornies, rode;And over Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch,Past Midgard fortress, down to earth they came;There through some battle-field, where men fall fast,Their horses fetlock-deep in blood, they ride,And pick the bravest warriors out for death,Whom they bring back with them at night to HeavenTo glad the Gods, and feast in Odin's hall.But the Gods went not now, as otherwhile,Into the tilt-yard, where the Heroes fought,To feast their eyes with looking on the fray;Nor did they to their judgment-place repairBy the ash Igdrasil, in Ida's plain,Where they hold council, and give laws for men.But they went, Odin first, the rest behind,To the hall Gladheim, which is built of gold;Where are in circle ranged twelve golden chairs,And in the midst one higher, Odin's throne.There all the Gods in silence sate them down;And thus the Father of the ages spake:—"Go quickly, Gods, bring wood to the seashore,With all, which it beseems the dead to have,And make a funeral-pile on Balder's ship;On the twelfth day the Gods shall burn his corpse.But Hermod, thou, take Sleipner, and ride downTo Hela's kingdom, to ask Balder back."So said he; and the Gods arose, and tookAxes and ropes, and at their head came Thor,Shouldering his hammer, which the giants know.Forth wended they, and drave their steeds before.And up the dewy mountain-tracks they faredTo the dark forests, in the early dawn;And up and down, and side and slant they roam'd.And from the glens all day an echo cameOf crashing falls; for with his hammer ThorSmote 'mid the rocks the lichen-bearded pines,And burst their roots, while to their tops the GodsMade fast the woven ropes, and haled them down,And lopp'd their boughs, and clove them on the sward,And bound the logs behind their steeds to draw,And drave them homeward; and the snorting steedsWent straining through the crackling brushwood down,And by the darkling forest-paths the GodsFollow'd, and on their shoulders carried boughs.And they came out upon the plain, and pass'dAsgard, and led their horses to the beach,And loosed them of their loads on the seashore,And ranged the wood in stacks by Balder's ship;And every God went home to his own house.But when the Gods were to the forest gone,Hermod led Sleipner from Valhalla forthAnd saddled him; before that, Sleipner brook'dNo meaner hand than Odin's on his mane,On his broad back no lesser rider bore;Yet docile now he stood at Hermod's side,Arching his neck, and glad to be bestrode,Knowing the God they went to seek, how dear.But Hermod mounted him, and sadly faredIn silence up the dark untravell'd roadWhich branches from the north of Heaven, and wentAll day; and daylight waned, and night came on.And all that night he rode, and journey'd so,Nine days, nine nights, toward the northern ice,Through valleys deep-engulph'd, by roaring streams.And on the tenth morn he beheld the bridgeWhich spans with golden arches Giall's stream,And on the bridge a damsel watching arm'd,In the strait passage, at the farther end,Where the road issues between walling rocks.Scant space that warder left for passers by;—But as when cowherds in October driveTheir kine across a snowy mountain-passTo winter-pasture on the southern side,And on the ridge a waggon chokes the way,Wedged in the snow; then painfully the hindsWith goad and shouting urge their cattle past,Plunging through deep untrodden banks of snowTo right and left, and warm steam fills the air—So on the bridge that damsel block'd the way,And question'd Hermod as he came, and said:—"Who art thou on thy black and fiery horseUnder whose hoofs the bridge o'er Giall's streamRumbles and shakes? Tell me thy race and home.But yestermorn, five troops of dead pass'd by,Bound on their way below to Hela's realm,Nor shook the bridge so much as thou alone.And thou hast flesh and colour on thy cheeks,Like men who live, and draw the vital air;Nor look'st thou pale and wan, like men deceased,Souls bound below, my daily passers here."And the fleet-footed Hermod answer'd her:—"O damsel, Hermod am I call'd, the sonOf Odin; and my high-roof'd house is builtFar hence, in Asgard, in the city of Gods;And Sleipner, Odin's horse, is this I ride.And I come, sent this road on Balder's track;Say then, if he hath cross'd thy bridge or no?"He spake; the warder of the bridge replied:—"O Hermod, rarely do the feet of GodsOr of the horses of the Gods resoundUpon my bridge; and, when they cross, I know.Balder hath gone this way, and ta'en the roadBelow there, to the north, tow'rd Hela's realm.From here the cold white mist can be discern'd,Nor lit with sun, but through the darksome airBy the dim vapour-blotted light of stars,Which hangs over the ice where lies the road.For in that ice are lost those northern streams,Freezing and ridging in their onward flow,Which from the fountain of Vergelmer run,The spring that bubbles up by Hela's throne.There are the joyless seats, the haunt of ghosts,Hela's pale swarms; and there was Balder bound.Ride on! pass free! but he by this is there."She spake, and stepp'd aside, and left him room.And Hermod greeted her, and gallop'd byAcross the bridge; then she took post again.But northward Hermod rode, the way below;And o'er a darksome tract, which knows no sun,But by the blotted light of stars, he fared.And he came down to Ocean's northern strand,At the drear ice, beyond the giants' home.Thence on he journey'd o'er the fields of iceStill north, until he met a stretching wallBarring his way, and in the wall a grate.Then he dismounted, and drew tight the girths,On the smooth ice, of Sleipner, Odin's horse,And made him leap the grate, and came within.And he beheld spread round him Hela's realm,The plains of Niflheim, where dwell the dead,And heard the thunder of the streams of Hell.For near the wall the river of Roaring flows,Outmost; the others near the centre run—The Storm, the Abyss, the Howling, and the Pain;These flow by Hela's throne, and near their spring.And from the dark flock'd up the shadowy tribes;—And as the swallows crowd the bulrush-bedsOf some clear river, issuing from a lake,On autumn-days, before they cross the sea;And to each bulrush-crest a swallow hangsQuivering, and others skim the river-streams,And their quick twittering fills the banks and shores—So around Hermod swarm'd the twittering ghosts.Women, and infants, and young men who diedToo soon for fame, with white ungraven shields;And old men, known to glory, but their starBetray'd them, and of wasting age they died,Not wounds; yet, dying, they their armour wore,And now have chief regard in Hela's realm.Behind flock'd wrangling up a piteous crew,Greeted of none, disfeatured and forlorn—Cowards, who were in sloughs interr'd alive;And round them still the wattled hurdles hung,Wherewith they stamp'd them down, and trod them deep,To hide their shameful memory from men.But all he pass'd unhail'd, and reach'd the throneOf Hela, and saw, near it, Balder crown'd,And Hela set thereon, with countenance stern;And thus bespake him first the solemn queen:—"Unhappy, how hast thou endured to leaveThe light, and journey to the cheerless landWhere idly flit about the feeble shades?How didst thou cross the bridge o'er Giall's stream,Being alive, and come to Ocean's shore?Or how o'erleap the grate that bars the wall?"She spake: but down off Sleipner Hermod sprang,And fell before her feet, and clasp'd her knees;And spake, and mild entreated her, and said:—"O Hela, wherefore should the Gods declareTheir errands to each other, or the waysThey go? the errand and the way is known.Thou know'st, thou know'st, what grief we have in HeavenFor Balder, whom thou hold'st by right below.Restore him! for what part fulfils he here?Shall he shed cheer over the cheerless seats,And touch the apathetic ghosts with joy?Not for such end, O queen, thou hold'st thy realm.For Heaven was Balder born, the city of GodsAnd Heroes, where they live in light and joy.Thither restore him, for his place is there!"He spoke; and grave replied the solemn queen:—"Hermod, for he thou art, thou son of Heaven!A strange unlikely errand, sure, is thine.Do the Gods send to me to make them blest?Small bliss my race hath of the Gods obtained.Three mighty children to my father LokDid Angerbode, the giantess, bring forth—Fenris the wolf, the Serpent huge, and me.Of these the Serpent in the sea ye cast,Who since in your despite hath wax'd amain,And now with gleaming ring enfolds the world;Me on this cheerless nether world ye threw,And gave me nine unlighted realms to rule;While on his island in the lake afar,Made fast to the bored crag, by wile not strengthSubdued, with limber chains lives Fenris bound.Lok still subsists in Heaven, our father wise,Your mate, though loathed, and feasts in Odin's hall;But him too foes await, and netted snares,And in a cave a bed of needle-rocks,And o'er his visage serpents dropping gall.Yet he shall one day rise, and burst his bonds,And with himself set us his offspring free,When he guides Muspel's children to their bourne.Till then in peril or in pain we live,Wrought by the Gods—and ask the Gods our aid?Howbeit, we abide our day; till then,We do not as some feebler haters do—Seek to afflict our foes with petty pangs,Helpless to better us, or ruin them.Come then! if Balder was so dear beloved,And this is true, and such a loss is Heaven's—Hear, how to Heaven may Balder be restored.Show me through all the world the signs of grief!Fails but one thing to grieve, here Balder stops!Let all that lives and moves upon the earthWeep him, and all that is without life weep;Let Gods, men, brutes, beweep him; plants and stones!So shall I know the lost was dear indeed,And bend my heart, and give him back to Heaven."She spake; and Hermod answer'd her, and said:—"Hela, such as thou say'st, the terms shall be.But come, declare me this, and truly tell:May I, ere I depart, bid Balder hail,Or is it here withheld to greet the dead?"He spake, and straightway Hela answered him:—"Hermod, greet Balder if thou wilt, and holdConverse; his speech remains, though he be dead."And straight to Balder Hermod turn'd, and spake:—"Even in the abode of death, O Balder, hail!Thou hear'st, if hearing, like as speech, is thine,The terms of thy releasement hence to Heaven;Fear nothing but that all shall be fulfill'd.For not unmindful of thee are the Gods,Who see the light, and blest in Asgard dwell;Even here they seek thee out, in Hela's realm.And sure of all the happiest far art thouWho ever have been known in earth or Heaven;Alive, thou wast of Gods the most beloved,And now thou sittest crown'd by Hela's side,Here, and hast honour among all the dead."He spake; and Balder utter'd him reply,But feebly, as a voice far off; he said:—"Hermod the nimble, gild me not my death!Better to live a serf, a captured man,Who scatters rushes in a master's hall,Than be a crown'd king here, and rule the dead.And now I count not of these terms as safeTo be fulfill'd, nor my return as sure,Though I be loved, and many mourn my death;For double-minded ever was the seedOf Lok, and double are the gifts they give.Howbeit, report thy message; and therewith,To Odin, to my father, take this ring,Memorial of me, whether saved or no;And tell the Heaven-born Gods how thou hast seenMe sitting here below by Hela's side,Crown'd, having honour among all the dead."He spake, and raised his hand, and gave the ring.And with inscrutable regard the queenOf Hell beheld them, and the ghosts stood dumb.But Hermod took the ring, and yet once moreKneel'd and did homage to the solemn queen;Then mounted Sleipner, and set forth to rideBack, through the astonish'd tribes of dead, to Heaven.And to the wall he came, and found the grateLifted, and issued on the fields of ice.And o'er the ice he fared to Ocean's strand,And up from thence, a wet and misty road,To the arm'd damsel's bridge, and Giall's stream.Worse was that way to go than to return,For him;—for others all return is barr'd.Nine days he took to go, two to return,And on the twelfth morn saw the light of Heaven.And as a traveller in the early dawnTo the steep edge of some great valley comes,Through which a river flows, and sees, beneath,Clouds of white rolling vapours fill the vale,But o'er them, on the farther slope, descriesVineyards, and crofts, and pastures, bright with sun—So Hermod, o'er the fog between, saw Heaven.And Sleipner snorted, for he smelt the airOf Heaven; and mightily, as wing'd, he flew.And Hermod saw the towers of Asgard rise;And he drew near, and heard no living voiceIn Asgard; and the golden halls were dumb.Then Hermod knew what labour held the Gods;And through the empty streets he rode, and pass'dUnder the gate-house to the sands, and foundThe Gods on the sea-shore by Balder's ship.3. FUNERALThe Gods held talk together, group'd in knots,Round Balder's corpse, which they had thither borne;And Hermod came down tow'rds them from the gate.And Lok, the father of the serpent, firstBeheld him come, and to his neighbour spake:—"See, here is Hermod, who comes single backFrom Hell; and shall I tell thee how he seems?Like as a farmer, who hath lost his dog,Some morn, at market, in a crowded town—Through many streets the poor beast runs in vain,And follows this man after that, for hours;And, late at evening, spent and panting, fallsBefore a stranger's threshold, not his home,With flanks a-tremble, and his slender tongueHangs quivering out between his dust-smear'd jaws,And piteously he eyes the passers by;But home his master comes to his own farm,Far in the country, wondering where he is—So Hermod comes to-day unfollow'd home."And straight his neighbour, moved with wrath, replied:—"Deceiver! fair in form, but false in heart!Enemy, mocker, whom, though Gods, we hate—Peace, lest our father Odin hear thee gibe!Would I might see him snatch thee in his hand,And bind thy carcase, like a bale, with cords,And hurl thee in a lake, to sink or swim!If clear from plotting Balder's death, to swim;But deep, if thou devisedst it, to drown,And perish, against fate, before thy day."So they two soft to one another spake.But Odin look'd toward the land, and sawHis messenger; and he stood forth, and cried.And Hermod came, and leapt from Sleipner down,And in his father's hand put Sleipner's rein,And greeted Odin and the Gods, and said:—"Odin, my father, and ye, Gods of Heaven!Lo, home, having perform'd your will, I come.Into the joyless kingdom have I been,Below, and look'd upon the shadowy tribesOf ghosts, and communed with their solemn queen;And to your prayer she sends you this reply:Show her through all the world the signs of grief!Fails but one thing to grieve, there Balder stops!Let Gods, men, brutes, beweep him; plants and stones:So shall she know your loss was dear indeed,And bend her heart, and give you Balder back."He spoke; and all the Gods to Odin look'd;And straight the Father of the ages said:—"Ye Gods, these terms may keep another day.But now, put on your arms, and mount your steeds,And in procession all come near, and weepBalder; for that is what the dead desire.When ye enough have wept, then build a pileOf the heap'd wood, and burn his corpse with fireOut of our sight; that we may turn from grief,And lead, as erst, our daily life in Heaven."He spoke, and the Gods arm'd; and Odin donn'dHis dazzling corslet and his helm of gold,And led the way on Sleipner; and the restFollow'd, in tears, their father and their king.And thrice in arms around the dead they rode,Weeping; the sands were wetted, and their arms,With their thick-falling tears—so good a friendThey mourn'd that day, so bright, so loved a God.And Odin came, and laid his kingly handsOn Balder's breast, and thus began the wail:—"Farewell, O Balder, bright and loved, my son!In that great day, the twilight of the Gods,When Muspel's children shall beleaguer Heaven,Then we shall miss thy counsel and thy arm."Thou camest near the next, O warrior Thor!Shouldering thy hammer, in thy chariot drawn,Swaying the long-hair'd goats with silver'd rein;And over Balder's corpse these words didst say:—"Brother, thou dwellest in the darksome land,And talkest with the feeble tribes of ghosts,Now, and I know not how they prize thee there—But here, I know, thou wilt be miss'd and mourn'd.For haughty spirits and high wraths are rifeAmong the Gods and Heroes here in Heaven,As among those whose joy and work is war;And daily strifes arise, and angry words.But from thy lips, O Balder, night or day,Heard no one ever an injurious wordTo God or Hero, but thou keptest backThe others, labouring to compose their brawls.Be ye then kind, as Balder too was kind!For we lose him, who smoothed all strife in Heaven."He spake, and all the Gods assenting wail'd.And Freya next came nigh, with golden tears;The loveliest Goddess she in Heaven, by allMost honour'd after Frea, Odin's wife.Her long ago the wandering Oder tookTo mate, but left her to roam distant lands;Since then she seeks him, and weeps tears of gold.Names hath she many; Vanadis on earthThey call her, Freya is her name in Heaven;She in her hands took Balder's head, and spake:—"Balder, my brother, thou art gone a roadUnknown and long, and haply on that wayMy long-lost wandering Oder thou hast met,For in the paths of Heaven he is not found.Oh, if it be so, tell him what thou wastTo his neglected wife, and what he is,And wring his heart with shame, to hear thy word!For he, my husband, left me here to pine,Not long a wife, when his unquiet heartFirst drove him from me into distant lands;Since then I vainly seek him through the world,And weep from shore to shore my golden tears,But neither god nor mortal heeds my pain.Thou only, Balder, wast for ever kind,To take my hand, and wipe my tears, and say:Weep not, O Freya, weep no golden tears!One day the wandering Oder will return,Or thou wilt find him in thy faithful searchOn some great road, or resting in an inn,Or at a ford, or sleeping by a tree.So Balder said;—but Oder, well I know,My truant Oder I shall see no moreTo the world's end; and Balder now is gone,And I am left uncomforted in Heaven."She spake; and all the Goddesses bewail'd.Last from among the Heroes one came near,No God, but of the hero-troop the chief—Regner, who swept the northern sea with fleets,And ruled o'er Denmark and the heathy isles,Living; but Ella captured him and slew;—A king whose fame then fill'd the vast of Heaven,Now time obscures it, and men's later deeds.He last approach'd the corpse, and spake, and said:—"Balder, there yet are many Scalds in HeavenStill left, and that chief Scald, thy brother Brage,Whom we may bid to sing, though thou art gone.And all these gladly, while we drink, we hear,After the feast is done, in Odin's hall;But they harp ever on one string, and wakeRemembrance in our soul of wars alone,Such as on earth we valiantly have waged,And blood, and ringing blows, and violent death.But when thou sangest, Balder, thou didst strikeAnother note, and, like a bird in spring,Thy voice of joyance minded us, and youth,And wife, and children, and our ancient home.Yes, and I, too, remember'd then no moreMy dungeon, where the serpents stung me dead,Nor Ella's victory on the English coast—But I heard Thora laugh in Gothland Isle,And saw my shepherdess, Aslauga, tendHer flock along the white Norwegian beach.Tears started to mine eyes with yearning joy.Therefore with grateful heart I mourn thee dead."So Regner spake, and all the Heroes groan'd.But now the sun had pass'd the height of Heaven,And soon had all that day been spent in wail;But then the Father of the ages said:—"Ye Gods, there well may be too much of wail!Bring now the gather'd wood to Balder's ship;Heap on the deck the logs, and build the pyre."But when the Gods and Heroes heard, they broughtThe wood to Balder's ship, and built a pile,Full the deck's breadth, and lofty; then the corpseOf Balder on the highest top they laid,With Nanna on his right, and on his leftHoder, his brother, whom his own hand slew.And they set jars of wine and oil to leanAgainst the bodies, and stuck torches near,Splinters of pine-wood, soak'd with turpentine;And brought his arms and gold, and all his stuff,And slew the dogs who at his table fed,And his horse, Balder's horse, whom most he loved,And placed them on the pyre, and Odin threwA last choice gift thereon, his golden ring.The mast they fixt, and hoisted up the sails,Then they put fire to the wood; and ThorSet his stout shoulder hard against the sternTo push the ship through the thick sand;—sparks flewFrom the deep trench she plough'd, so strong a GodFurrow'd it; and the water gurgled in.And the ship floated on the waves, and rock'd.But in the hills a strong east-wind arose,And came down moaning to the sea; first squallsRan black o'er the sea's face, then steady rush'dThe breeze, and fill'd the sails, and blew the fire.And wreathed in smoke the ship stood out to sea.Soon with a roaring rose the mighty fire,And the pile crackled; and between the logsSharp quivering tongues of flame shot out, and leapt,Curling and darting, higher, until they lick'dThe summit of the pile, the dead, the mast,And ate the shrivelling sails; but still the shipDrove on, ablaze above her hull with fire.And the Gods stood upon the beach, and gazed.And while they gazed, the sun went lurid downInto the smoke-wrapt sea, and night came on.Then the wind fell, with night, and there was calm;But through the dark they watch'd the burning shipStill carried o'er the distant waters on,Farther and farther, like an eye of fire.And long, in the far dark, blazed Balder's pile;But fainter, as the stars rose high, it flared,The bodies were consumed, ash choked the pile.And as, in a decaying winter-fire,A charr'd log, falling, makes a shower of sparks—So with a shower of sparks the pile fell in,Reddening the sea around; and all was dark.But the Gods went by starlight up the shoreTo Asgard, and sate down in Odin's hallAt table, and the funeral-feast began.All night they ate the boar Serimner's flesh,And from their horns, with silver rimm'd, drank mead,Silent, and waited for the sacred morn.And morning over all the world was spread.Then from their loathéd feasts the Gods arose,And took their horses, and set forth to rideO'er the bridge Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch,To the ash Igdrasil, and Ida's plain;Thor came on foot, the rest on horseback rode.And they found Mimir sitting by his fountOf wisdom, which beneath the ashtree springs;And saw the Nornies watering the rootsOf that world-shadowing tree with honey-dew.There came the Gods, and sate them down on stones;And thus the Father of the ages said:—"Ye Gods, the terms ye know, which Hermod brought.Accept them or reject them! both have grounds.Accept them, and they bind us, unfulfill'd,To leave for ever Balder in the grave,An unrecover'd prisoner, shade with shades.But how, ye say, should the fulfilment fail?—Smooth sound the terms, and light to be fulfill'd;For dear-beloved was Balder while he livedIn Heaven and earth, and who would grudge him tears?But from the traitorous seed of Lok they come,These terms, and I suspect some hidden fraud.Bethink ye, Gods, is there no other way?—Speak, were not this a way, the way for Gods?If I, if Odin, clad in radiant arms,Mounted on Sleipner, with the warrior ThorDrawn in his car beside me, and my sons,All the strong brood of Heaven, to swell my train,Should make irruption into Hela's realm,And set the fields of gloom ablaze with light,And bring in triumph Balder back to Heaven?"He spake, and his fierce sons applauded loud.But Frea, mother of the Gods, arose,Daughter and wife of Odin; thus she said:—"Odin, thou whirlwind, what a threat is this!Thou threatenest what transcends thy might, even thine.For of all powers the mightiest far art thou,Lord over men on earth, and Gods in Heaven;Yet even from thee thyself hath been withheldOne thing—to undo what thou thyself hast ruled.For all which hath been fixt, was fixt by thee.In the beginning, ere the Gods were born,Before the Heavens were builded, thou didst slayThe giant Ymir, whom the abyss brought forth,Thou and thy brethren fierce, the sons of Bor,And cast his trunk to choke the abysmal void.But of his flesh and members thou didst buildThe earth and Ocean, and above them Heaven.And from the flaming world, where Muspel reigns,Thou sent'st and fetched'st fire, and madest lights,Sun, moon, and stars, which thou hast hung in Heaven,Dividing clear the paths of night and day.And Asgard thou didst build, and Midgard fort;Then me thou mad'st; of us the Gods were born.Last, walking by the sea, thou foundest sparsOf wood, and framed'st men, who till the earth,Or on the sea, the field of pirates, sail.And all the race of Ymir thou didst drown,Save one, Bergelmer;—he on shipboard fledThy deluge, and from him the giants sprang.But all that brood thou hast removed far off,And set by Ocean's utmost marge to dwell;But Hela into Niflheim thou threw'st,And gav'st her nine unlighted worlds to rule,A queen, and empire over all the dead.That empire wilt thou now invade, light upHer darkness, from her grasp a subject tear?—Try it; but I, for one, will not applaud.Nor do I merit, Odin, thou should'st slightMe and my words, though thou be first in Heaven;For I too am a Goddess, born of thee,Thine eldest, and of me the Gods are sprung;And all that is to come I know, but lockIn mine own breast, and have to none reveal'd.Come then! since Hela holds by right her prey,But offers terms for his release to Heaven,Accept the chance; thou canst no more obtain.Send through the world thy messengers; entreatAll living and unliving things to weepFor Balder; if thou haply thus may'st meltHela, and win the loved one back to Heaven."She spake, and on her face let fall her veil,And bow'd her head, and sate with folded hands.Nor did the all-ruling Odin slight her word;Straightway he spake, and thus address'd the Gods:"Go quickly forth through all the world, and prayAll living and unliving things to weepBalder, if haply he may thus be won."When the Gods heard, they straight arose, and tookTheir horses, and rode forth through all the world;North, south, east, west, they struck, and roam'd the world,Entreating all things to weep Balder's death.And all that lived, and all without life, wept.And as in winter, when the frost breaks up,At winter's end, before the spring begins,And a warm west-wind blows, and thaw sets in—After an hour a dripping sound is heardIn all the forests, and the soft-strewn snowUnder the trees is dibbled-thick with holes,And from the boughs the snowloads shuffle down;And, in fields sloping to the south, dark plotsOf grass peep out amid surrounding snow,And widen, and the peasant's heart is glad—So through the world was heard a dripping noiseOf all things weeping to bring Balder back;And there fell joy upon the Gods to hear.But Hermod rode with Niord, whom he tookTo show him spits and beaches of the seaFar off, where some unwarn'd might fail to weep—Niord, the God of storms, whom fishers know;Not born in Heaven; he was in Vanheim rear'd,With men, but lives a hostage with the Gods;He knows each frith, and every rocky creekFringed with dark pines, and sands where seafowl scream—They two scour'd every coast, and all things wept.And they rode home together, through the woodOf Jarnvid, which to east of Midgard liesBordering the giants, where the trees are iron;There in the wood before a cave they came,Where sate, in the cave's mouth, a skinny hag,Toothless and old; she gibes the passers by.Thok is she call'd, but now Lok wore her shape;She greeted them the first, and laugh'd, and said:—"Ye Gods, good lack, is it so dull in Heaven,That ye come pleasuring to Thok's iron wood?Lovers of change ye are, fastidious sprites.Look, as in some boor's yard a sweet-breath'd cow,Whose manger is stuff'd full of good fresh hay,Snuffs at it daintily, and stoops her headTo chew the straw, her litter, at her feet—So ye grow squeamish, Gods, and sniff at Heaven!"She spake; but Hermod answer'd her and said:—"Thok, not for gibes we come, we come for tears.Balder is dead, and Hela holds her prey,But will restore, if all things give him tears.Begrudge not thine! to all was Balder dear."Then, with a louder laugh, the hag replied:—"Is Balder dead? and do ye come for tears?Thok with dry eyes will weep o'er Balder's pyre.Weep him all other things, if weep they will—I weep him not! let Hela keep her prey."She spake, and to the cavern's depth she fled,Mocking; and Hermod knew their toil was vain.And as seafaring men, who long have wroughtIn the great deep for gain, at last come home,And towards evening see the headlands riseOf their dear country, and can plain descryA fire of wither'd furze which boys have litUpon the cliffs, or smoke of burning weedsOut of a till'd field inland;—then the windCatches them, and drives out again to sea;And they go long days tossing up and downOver the grey sea-ridges, and the glimpseOf port they had makes bitterer far their toil—So the Gods' cross was bitterer for their joy.Then, sad at heart, to Niord Hermod spake:—"It is the accuser Lok, who flouts us all!Ride back, and tell in Heaven this heavy news;I must again below, to Hela's realm."He spoke; and Niord set forth back to Heaven.But northward Hermod rode, the way below,The way he knew; and traversed Giall's stream,And down to Ocean groped, and cross'd the ice,And came beneath the wall, and found the grateStill lifted; well was his return foreknown.And once more Hermod saw around him spreadThe joyless plains, and heard the streams of Hell.But as he enter'd, on the extremest boundOf Niflheim, he saw one ghost come near,Hovering, and stopping oft, as if afraid—Hoder, the unhappy, whom his own hand slew.And Hermod look'd, and knew his brother's ghost,And call'd him by his name, and sternly said:—"Hoder, ill-fated, blind in heart and eyes!Why tarriest thou to plunge thee in the gulphOf the deep inner gloom, but flittest here,In twilight, on the lonely verge of Hell,Far from the other ghosts, and Hela's throne?Doubtless thou fearest to meet Balder's voice,Thy brother, whom through folly thou didst slay."He spoke; but Hoder answer'd him, and said:—"Hermod the nimble, dost thou still pursueThe unhappy with reproach, even in the grave?For this I died, and fled beneath the gloom,Not daily to endure abhorring Gods,Nor with a hateful presence cumber Heaven;And canst thou not, even here, pass pitying by?No less than Balder have I lost the lightOf Heaven, and communion with my kin;I too had once a wife, and once a child,And substance, and a golden house in Heaven—But all I left of my own act, and fledBelow, and dost thou hate me even here?Balder upbraids me not, nor hates at all,Though he has cause, have any cause; but he,When that with downcast looks I hither came,Stretch'd forth his hand, and with benignant voice,Welcome, he said,if there be welcome here,Brother and fellow-sport of Lok with me!And not to offend thee, Hermod, nor to forceMy hated converse on thee, came I upFrom the deep gloom, where I will now return;But earnestly I long'd to hover near,Not too far off, when that thou camest by;To feel the presence of a brother God,And hear the passage of a horse of Heaven,For the last time—for here thou com'st no more."He spake, and turn'd to go to the inner gloom.But Hermod stay'd him with mild words, and said:—"Thou doest well to chide me, Hoder blind!Truly thou say'st, the planning guilty mindWas Lok's; the unwitting hand alone was thine.But Gods are like the sons of men in this—When they have woe, they blame the nearest cause.Howbeit stay, and be appeased! and tell:Sits Balder still in pomp by Hela's side,Or is he mingled with the unnumber'd dead?"And the blind Hoder answer'd him and spake:—"His place of state remains by Hela's side,But empty; for his wife, for Nanna cameLately below, and join'd him; and the pairFrequent the still recesses of the realmOf Hela, and hold converse undisturb'd.But they too, doubtless, will have breathed the balm,Which floats before a visitant from Heaven,And have drawn upward to this verge of Hell."He spake; and, as he ceased, a puff of windRoll'd heavily the leaden mist asideRound where they stood, and they beheld two formsMake toward them o'er the stretching cloudy plain.And Hermod straight perceived them, who they wereBalder and Nanna; and to Balder said:—"Balder, too truly thou foresaw'st a snare!Lok triumphs still, and Hela keeps her prey.No more to Asgard shalt thou come, nor lodgeIn thy own house, Breidablik, nor enjoyThe love all bear toward thee, nor train upForset, thy son, to be beloved like thee.Here must thou lie, and wait an endless age.Therefore for the last time, O Balder, hail!"He spake; and Balder answer'd him, and said:—"Hail and farewell! for here thou com'st no more.Yet mourn not for me, Hermod, when thou sitt'stIn Heaven, nor let the other Gods lament,As wholly to be pitied, quite forlorn.For Nanna hath rejoin'd me, who, of old,In Heaven, was seldom parted from my side;And still the acceptance follows me, which crown'dMy former life, and cheers me even here.The iron frown of Hela is relax'dWhen I draw nigh, and the wan tribes of deadLove me, and gladly bring for my awardTheir ineffectual feuds and feeble hates—Shadows of hates, but they distress them still."And the fleet-footed Hermod made reply:—"Thou hast then all the solace death allows,Esteem and function; and so far is well.Yet here thou liest, Balder, underground,Rusting for ever; and the years roll on,The generations pass, the ages grow,And bring us nearer to the final dayWhen from the south shall march the fiery bandAnd cross the bridge of Heaven, with Lok for guide,And Fenris at his heel with broken chain;While from the east the giant Rymer steersHis ship, and the great serpent makes to land;And all are marshall'd in one flaming squareAgainst the Gods, upon the plains of Heaven,I mourn thee, that thou canst not help us then."He spake; but Balder answer'd him, and said:—"Mourn not for me! Mourn, Hermod, for the Gods;Mourn for the men on earth, the Gods in Heaven,Who live, and with their eyes shall see that day!The day will come, when fall shall Asgard's towers,And Odin, and his sons, the seed of Heaven;But what were I, to save them in that hour?If strength might save them, could not Odin save,My father, and his pride, the warrior Thor,Vidar the silent, the impetuous Tyr?I, what were I, when these can nought avail?Yet, doubtless, when the day of battle comes,And the two hosts are marshall'd, and in HeavenThe golden-crested cock shall sound alarm,And his black brother-bird from hence reply,And bucklers clash, and spears begin to pour—Longing will stir within my breast, though vain.But not to me so grievous, as, I know,To other Gods it were, is my enforcedAbsence from fields where I could nothing aid;For I am long since weary of your stormOf carnage, and find, Hermod, in your lifeSomething too much of war and broils, which makeLife one perpetual fight, a bath of blood.Mine eyes are dizzy with the arrowy hail;Mine ears are stunn'd with blows, and sick for calm.Inactive therefore let me lie, in gloom,Unarm'd, inglorious; I attend the courseOf ages, and my late return to light,In times less alien to a spirit mild,In new-recover'd seats, the happier day."He spake; and the fleet Hermod thus replied:—"Brother, what seats are these, what happier day?Tell me, that I may ponder it when gone."And the ray-crowned Balder answer'd him:—"Far to the south, beyond the blue, there spreadsAnother Heaven, the boundless—no one yetHath reach'd it; there hereafter shall ariseThe second Asgard, with another name.Thither, when o'er this present earth and HeavensThe tempest of the latter days hath swept,And they from sight have disappear'd, and sunk,Shall a small remnant of the Gods repair;Hoder and I shall join them from the grave.There re-assembling we shall see emergeFrom the bright Ocean at our feet an earthMore fresh, more verdant than the last, with fruitsSelf-springing, and a seed of man preserved,Who then shall live in peace, as now in war.But we in Heaven shall find again with joyThe ruin'd palaces of Odin, seatsFamiliar, halls where we have supp'd of old;Re-enter them with wonder, never fillOur eyes with gazing, and rebuild with tears.And we shall tread once more the well-known plainOf Ida, and among the grass shall findThe golden dice wherewith we play'd of yore;And that will bring to mind the former lifeAnd pastime of the Gods, the wise discourseOf Odin, the delights of other days,O Hermod, pray that thou may'st join us then!Such for the future is my hope; meanwhile,I rest the thrall of Hela, and endureDeath, and the gloom which round me even nowThickens, and to its inner gulph recalls.Farewell, for longer speech is not allow'd!"He spoke, and waved farewell, and gave his handTo Nanna; and she gave their brother blindHer hand, in turn, for guidance; and the threeDeparted o'er the cloudy plain, and soonFaded from sight into the interior gloom.But Hermod stood beside his drooping horse,Mute, gazing after them in tears; and fain,Fain had he follow'd their receding steps,Though they to death were bound, and he to Heaven,Then; but a power he could not break withheld.And as a stork which idle boys have trapp'd,And tied him in a yard, at autumn seesFlocks of his kind pass flying o'er his headTo warmer lands, and coasts that keep the sun;—He strains to join their flight, and from his shedFollows them with a long complaining cry—So Hermod gazed, and yearn'd to join his kin.At last he sigh'd, and set forth back to Heaven.
I. SENDING
So on the floor lay Balder dead; and roundLay thickly strewn swords, axes, darts, and spears,Which all the Gods in sport had idly thrownAt Balder, whom no weapon pierced or clove;But in his breast stood fixt the fatal boughOf mistletoe, which Lok the Accuser gaveTo Hoder, and unwitting Hoder threw—'Gainst that alone had Balder's life no charm.And all the Gods and all the Heroes came,And stood round Balder on the bloody floor,Weeping and wailing; and Valhalla rangUp to its golden roof with sobs and cries;And on the tables stood the untasted meats,And in the horns and gold-rimm'd skulls the wine.And now would night have fall'n, and found them yetWailing; but otherwise was Odin's will.And thus the father of the ages spake:—"Enough of tears, ye Gods, enough of wail!Not to lament in was Valhalla made.If any here might weep for Balder's death,I most might weep, his father; such a sonI lose to-day, so bright, so loved a God.But he has met that doom, which long agoThe Nornies, when his mother bare him, spun,And fate set seal, that so his end must be.Balder has met his death, and ye survive—Weep him an hour, but what can grief avail?For ye yourselves, ye Gods, shall meet your doom,All ye who hear me, and inhabit Heaven,And I too, Odin too, the Lord of all.But ours we shall not meet, when that day comes,With women's tears and weak complaining cries—Why should we meet another's portion so?Rather it fits you, having wept your hour,With cold dry eyes, and hearts composed and stern,To live, as erst, your daily life in Heaven.By me shall vengeance on the murderer Lok,The foe, the accuser, whom, though Gods, we hate,Be strictly cared for, in the appointed day.Meanwhile, to-morrow, when the morning dawns,Bring wood to the seashore to Balder's ship,And on the deck build high a funeral-pile,And on the top lay Balder's corpse, and putFire to the wood, and send him out to seaTo burn; for that is what the dead desire."So spake the King of Gods, and straightway rose,And mounted his horse Sleipner, whom he rode;And from the hall of Heaven he rode awayTo Lidskialf, and sate upon his throne,The mount, from whence his eye surveys the world.And far from Heaven he turn'd his shining orbsTo look on Midgard, and the earth, and men.And on the conjuring Lapps he bent his gazeWhom antler'd reindeer pull over the snow;And on the Finns, the gentlest of mankind,Fair men, who live in holes under the ground;Nor did he look once more to Ida's plain,Nor tow'rd Valhalla, and the sorrowing Gods;For well he knew the Gods would heed his word,And cease to mourn, and think of Balder's pyre.But in Valhalla all the Gods went backFrom around Balder, all the Heroes went;And left his body stretch'd upon the floor.And on their golden chairs they sate again,Beside the tables, in the hall of Heaven;And before each the cooks who served them placedNew messes of the boar Serimner's flesh,And the Valkyries crown'd their horns with mead.So they, with pent-up hearts and tearless eyes,Wailing no more, in silence ate and drank,While twilight fell, and sacred night came on.But the blind Hoder left the feasting GodsIn Odin's hall, and went through Asgard streets,And past the haven where the Gods have moor'dTheir ships, and through the gate, beyond the wall;Though sightless, yet his own mind led the God.Down to the margin of the roaring seaHe came, and sadly went along the sand,Between the waves and black o'erhanging cliffsWhere in and out the screaming seafowl fly;Until he came to where a gully breaksThrough the cliff-wall, and a fresh stream runs downFrom the high moors behind, and meets the sea.There, in the glen, Fensaler stands, the houseOf Frea, honour'd mother of the Gods,And shows its lighted windows to the main.There he went up, and pass'd the open doors;And in the hall he found those women old,The prophetesses, who by rite eterneOn Frea's hearth feed high the sacred fireBoth night and day; and by the inner wallUpon her golden chair the Mother sate,With folded hands, revolving things to come.To her drew Hoder near, and spake, and said:—"Mother, a child of bale thou bar'st in me!For, first, thou barest me with blinded eyes,Sightless and helpless, wandering weak in Heaven;And, after that, of ignorant witless mindThou barest me, and unforeseeing soul;That I alone must take the branch from Lok,The foe, the accuser, whom, though Gods, we hate,And cast it at the dear-loved Balder's breastAt whom the Gods in sport their weapons threw—'Gainst that alone had Balder's life no charm.Now therefore what to attempt, or whither fly,For who will bear my hateful sight in Heaven?Can I, O mother, bring them Balder back?Or—for thou know'st the fates, and things allow'd—Can I with Hela's power a compact strike,And make exchange, and give my life for his?"He spoke: the mother of the Gods replied:—"Hoder, ill-fated, child of bale, my son,Sightless in soul and eye, what words are these?That one, long portion'd with his doom of death,Should change his lot, and fill another's life,And Hela yield to this, and let him go!On Balder Death hath laid her hand, not thee;Nor doth she count this life a price for that.For many Gods in Heaven, not thou alone,Would freely die to purchase Balder back,And wend themselves to Hela's gloomy realm.For not so gladsome is that life in HeavenWhich Gods and heroes lead, in feast and fray,Waiting the darkness of the final times,That one should grudge its loss for Balder's sake,Balder their joy, so bright, so loved a God.But fate withstands, and laws forbid this way.Yet in my secret mind one way I know,Nor do I judge if it shall win or fail;But much must still be tried, which shall but fail."And the blind Hoder answer'd her, and said:—"What way is this, O mother, that thou show'st?Is it a matter which a God might try?"And straight the mother of the Gods replied:—"There is a road which leads to Hela's realm,Untrodden, lonely, far from light and Heaven.Who goes that way must take no other horseTo ride, but Sleipner, Odin's horse, alone.Nor must he choose that common path of GodsWhich every day they come and go in Heaven,O'er the bridge Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch,Past Midgard fortress, down to earth and men.But he must tread a dark untravell'd roadWhich branches from the north of Heaven, and rideNine days, nine nights, toward the northern ice,Through valleys deep-engulph'd, with roaring streams.And he will reach on the tenth morn a bridgeWhich spans with golden arches Giall's stream,Not Bifrost, but that bridge a damsel keeps,Who tells the passing troops of dead their wayTo the low shore of ghosts, and Hela's realm.And she will bid him northward steer his course.Then he will journey through no lighted land,Nor see the sun arise, nor see it set;But he must ever watch the northern Bear,Who from her frozen height with jealous eyeConfronts the Dog and Hunter in the south,And is alone not dipt in Ocean's stream.And straight he will come down to Ocean's strand—Ocean, whose watery ring enfolds the world,And on whose marge the ancient giants dwell.But he will reach its unknown northern shore,Far, far beyond the outmost giant's home,At the chink'd fields of ice, the waste of snow.And he must fare across the dismal iceNorthward, until he meets a stretching wallBarring his way, and in the wall a grate.But then he must dismount, and on the iceTighten the girths of Sleipner, Odin's horse,And make him leap the grate, and come within.And he will see stretch round him Hela's realm,The plains of Niflheim, where dwell the dead,And hear the roaring of the streams of Hell.And he will see the feeble, shadowy tribes,And Balder sitting crown'd, and Hela's throne.Then must he not regard the wailful ghostsWho all will flit, like eddying leaves, around;But he must straight accost their solemn queen,And pay her homage, and entreat with prayers,Telling her all that grief they have in HeavenFor Balder, whom she holds by right below;If haply he may melt her heart with words,And make her yield, and give him Balder back."She spoke; but Hoder answer'd her and said:—"Mother, a dreadful way is this thou show'st;No journey for a sightless God to go!"And straight the mother of the Gods replied:—"Therefore thyself thou shalt not go, my son.But he whom first thou meetest when thou com'stTo Asgard, and declar'st this hidden way,Shall go; and I will be his guide unseen."She spoke, and on her face let fall her veil,And bow'd her head, and sate with folded hands,But at the central hearth those women old,Who while the Mother spake had ceased their toil,Began again to heap the sacred fire.And Hoder turn'd, and left his mother's house,Fensaler, whose lit windows look to sea;And came again down to the roaring waves,And back along the beach to Asgard went,Pondering on that which Frea said should be.But night came down, and darken'd Asgard streetsThen from their loathéd feasts the Gods arose,And lighted torches, and took up the corpseOf Balder from the floor of Odin's hall,And laid it on a bier, and bare him homeThrough the fast-darkening streets to his own house,Breidablik, on whose columns Balder gravedThe enchantments that recall the dead to life.For wise he was, and many curious arts,Postures of runes, and healing herbs he knew;Unhappy! but that art he did not know,To keep his own life safe, and see the sun.There to his hall the Gods brought Balder home,And each bespake him as he laid him down:—"Would that ourselves, O Balder, we were borneHome to our halls, with torchlight, by our kin,So thou might'st live, and still delight the Gods!"They spake; and each went home to his own house.But there was one, the first of all the GodsFor speed, and Hermod was his name in Heaven;Most fleet he was, but now he went the last,Heavy in heart for Balder, to his house,Which he in Asgard built him, there to dwell,Against the harbour, by the city-wall.Him the blind Hoder met, as he came upFrom the sea cityward, and knew his step;Nor yet could Hermod see his brother's face,For it grew dark; but Hoder touch'd his arm.And as a spray of honeysuckle flowersBrushes across a tired traveller's faceWho shuffles through the deep dew-moisten'd dust,On a May evening, in the darken'd lanes,And starts him, that he thinks a ghost went by—So Hoder brush'd by Hermod's side, and said:—"Take Sleipner, Hermod, and set forth with dawnTo Hela's kingdom, to ask Balder back;And they shall be thy guides, who have the power."He spake, and brush'd soft by, and disappear'd.And Hermod gazed into the night, and said:—"Who is it utters through the dark his hestSo quickly, and will wait for no reply?The voice was like the unhappy Hoder's voice.Howbeit I will see, and do his hest;For there rang note divine in that command."So speaking, the fleet-footed Hermod cameHome, and lay down to sleep in his own house;And all the Gods lay down in their own homes.And Hoder too came home, distraught with grief,Loathing to meet, at dawn, the other Gods;And he went in, and shut the door, and fixtHis sword upright, and fell on it, and died.But from the hill of Lidskialf Odin rose,The throne, from which his eye surveys the world;And mounted Sleipner, and in darkness rodeTo Asgard. And the stars came out in heaven,High over Asgard, to light home the King.But fiercely Odin gallop'd, moved in heart;And swift to Asgard, to the gate, he came.And terribly the hoofs of Sleipner rangAlong the flinty floor of Asgard streets,And the Gods trembled on their golden bedsHearing the wrathful Father coming home—For dread, for like a whirlwind, Odin came.And to Valhalla's gate he rode, and leftSleipner; and Sleipner went to his own stall;And in Valhalla Odin laid him down.But in Breidablik, Nanna, Balder's wife,Came with the Goddesses who wrought her will,And stood by Balder lying on his bier.And at his head and feet she station'd ScaldsWho in their lives were famous for their song;These o'er the corpse intoned a plaintive strain,A dirge—and Nanna and her train replied.And far into the night they wail'd their dirge.But when their souls were satisfied with wail,They went, and laid them down, and Nanna wentInto an upper chamber, and lay down;And Frea seal'd her tired lids with sleep.And 'twas when night is bordering hard on dawn,When air is chilliest, and the stars sunk low;Then Balder's spirit through the gloom drew near,In garb, in form, in feature as he was,Alive; and still the rays were round his headWhich were his glorious mark in Heaven; he stoodOver against the curtain of the bed,And gazed on Nanna as she slept, and spake:—"Poor lamb, thou sleepest, and forgett'st thy woe!Tears stand upon the lashes of thine eyes,Tears wet the pillow by thy cheek; but thou,Like a young child, hast cried thyself to sleep.Sleep on; I watch thee, and am here to aid.Alive I kept not far from thee, dear soul!Neither do I neglect thee now, though dead.For with to-morrow's dawn the Gods prepareTo gather wood, and build a funeral-pileUpon my ship, and burn my corpse with fire,That sad, sole honour of the dead; and theeThey think to burn, and all my choicest wealth,With me, for thus ordains the common rite.But it shall not be so; but mild, but swift,But painless shall a stroke from Frea come,To cut thy thread of life, and free thy soul,And they shall burn thy corpse with mine, not thee.And well I know that by no stroke of death,Tardy or swift, would'st thou be loath to die,So it restored thee, Nanna, to my side,Whom thou so well hast loved; but I can smoothThy way, and this, at least, my prayers avail.Yes, and I fain would altogether wardDeath from thy head, and with the Gods in HeavenProlong thy life, though not by thee desired—But right bars this, not only thy desire.Yet dreary, Nanna, is the life they leadIn that dim world, in Hela's mouldering realm;And doleful are the ghosts, the troops of dead,Whom Hela with austere control presides.For of the race of Gods is no one there,Save me alone, and Hela, solemn queen;And all the nobler souls of mortal menOn battle-field have met their death, and nowFeast in Valhalla, in my father's hall;Only the inglorious sort are there below,The old, the cowards, and the weak are there—Men spent by sickness, or obscure decay.But even there, O Nanna, we might findSome solace in each other's look and speech,Wandering together through that gloomy world,And talking of the life we led in Heaven,While we yet lived, among the other Gods."He spake, and straight his lineaments beganTo fade; and Nanna in her sleep stretch'd outHer arms towards him with a cry—but heMournfully shook his head, and disappear'd.And as the woodman sees a little smokeHang in the air, afield, and disappear,So Balder faded in the night away.And Nanna on her bed sank back; but thenFrea, the mother of the Gods, with strokePainless and swift, set free her airy soul,Which took, on Balder's track, the way below;And instantly the sacred morn appear'd.
2. JOURNEY TO THE DEAD
Forth from the east, up the ascent of Heaven,Day drove his courser with the shining mane;And in Valhalla, from his gable-perch,The golden-crested cock began to crow.Hereafter, in the blackest dead of night,With shrill and dismal cries that bird shall crow,Warning the Gods that foes draw nigh to Heaven;But now he crew at dawn, a cheerful note,To wake the Gods and Heroes to their tasks.And all the Gods, and all the Heroes, woke.And from their beds the Heroes rose, and donn'dTheir arms, and led their horses from the stall,And mounted them, and in Valhalla's courtWere ranged; and then the daily fray began.And all day long they there are hack'd and hewn,'Mid dust, and groans, and limbs lopp'd off, and blood;But all at night return to Odin's hall,Woundless and fresh; such lot is theirs in Heaven.And the Valkyries on their steeds went forthTow'rd earth and fights of men; and at their sideSkulda, the youngest of the Nornies, rode;And over Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch,Past Midgard fortress, down to earth they came;There through some battle-field, where men fall fast,Their horses fetlock-deep in blood, they ride,And pick the bravest warriors out for death,Whom they bring back with them at night to HeavenTo glad the Gods, and feast in Odin's hall.But the Gods went not now, as otherwhile,Into the tilt-yard, where the Heroes fought,To feast their eyes with looking on the fray;Nor did they to their judgment-place repairBy the ash Igdrasil, in Ida's plain,Where they hold council, and give laws for men.But they went, Odin first, the rest behind,To the hall Gladheim, which is built of gold;Where are in circle ranged twelve golden chairs,And in the midst one higher, Odin's throne.There all the Gods in silence sate them down;And thus the Father of the ages spake:—"Go quickly, Gods, bring wood to the seashore,With all, which it beseems the dead to have,And make a funeral-pile on Balder's ship;On the twelfth day the Gods shall burn his corpse.But Hermod, thou, take Sleipner, and ride downTo Hela's kingdom, to ask Balder back."So said he; and the Gods arose, and tookAxes and ropes, and at their head came Thor,Shouldering his hammer, which the giants know.Forth wended they, and drave their steeds before.And up the dewy mountain-tracks they faredTo the dark forests, in the early dawn;And up and down, and side and slant they roam'd.And from the glens all day an echo cameOf crashing falls; for with his hammer ThorSmote 'mid the rocks the lichen-bearded pines,And burst their roots, while to their tops the GodsMade fast the woven ropes, and haled them down,And lopp'd their boughs, and clove them on the sward,And bound the logs behind their steeds to draw,And drave them homeward; and the snorting steedsWent straining through the crackling brushwood down,And by the darkling forest-paths the GodsFollow'd, and on their shoulders carried boughs.And they came out upon the plain, and pass'dAsgard, and led their horses to the beach,And loosed them of their loads on the seashore,And ranged the wood in stacks by Balder's ship;And every God went home to his own house.But when the Gods were to the forest gone,Hermod led Sleipner from Valhalla forthAnd saddled him; before that, Sleipner brook'dNo meaner hand than Odin's on his mane,On his broad back no lesser rider bore;Yet docile now he stood at Hermod's side,Arching his neck, and glad to be bestrode,Knowing the God they went to seek, how dear.But Hermod mounted him, and sadly faredIn silence up the dark untravell'd roadWhich branches from the north of Heaven, and wentAll day; and daylight waned, and night came on.And all that night he rode, and journey'd so,Nine days, nine nights, toward the northern ice,Through valleys deep-engulph'd, by roaring streams.And on the tenth morn he beheld the bridgeWhich spans with golden arches Giall's stream,And on the bridge a damsel watching arm'd,In the strait passage, at the farther end,Where the road issues between walling rocks.Scant space that warder left for passers by;—But as when cowherds in October driveTheir kine across a snowy mountain-passTo winter-pasture on the southern side,And on the ridge a waggon chokes the way,Wedged in the snow; then painfully the hindsWith goad and shouting urge their cattle past,Plunging through deep untrodden banks of snowTo right and left, and warm steam fills the air—So on the bridge that damsel block'd the way,And question'd Hermod as he came, and said:—"Who art thou on thy black and fiery horseUnder whose hoofs the bridge o'er Giall's streamRumbles and shakes? Tell me thy race and home.But yestermorn, five troops of dead pass'd by,Bound on their way below to Hela's realm,Nor shook the bridge so much as thou alone.And thou hast flesh and colour on thy cheeks,Like men who live, and draw the vital air;Nor look'st thou pale and wan, like men deceased,Souls bound below, my daily passers here."And the fleet-footed Hermod answer'd her:—"O damsel, Hermod am I call'd, the sonOf Odin; and my high-roof'd house is builtFar hence, in Asgard, in the city of Gods;And Sleipner, Odin's horse, is this I ride.And I come, sent this road on Balder's track;Say then, if he hath cross'd thy bridge or no?"He spake; the warder of the bridge replied:—"O Hermod, rarely do the feet of GodsOr of the horses of the Gods resoundUpon my bridge; and, when they cross, I know.Balder hath gone this way, and ta'en the roadBelow there, to the north, tow'rd Hela's realm.From here the cold white mist can be discern'd,Nor lit with sun, but through the darksome airBy the dim vapour-blotted light of stars,Which hangs over the ice where lies the road.For in that ice are lost those northern streams,Freezing and ridging in their onward flow,Which from the fountain of Vergelmer run,The spring that bubbles up by Hela's throne.There are the joyless seats, the haunt of ghosts,Hela's pale swarms; and there was Balder bound.Ride on! pass free! but he by this is there."She spake, and stepp'd aside, and left him room.And Hermod greeted her, and gallop'd byAcross the bridge; then she took post again.But northward Hermod rode, the way below;And o'er a darksome tract, which knows no sun,But by the blotted light of stars, he fared.And he came down to Ocean's northern strand,At the drear ice, beyond the giants' home.Thence on he journey'd o'er the fields of iceStill north, until he met a stretching wallBarring his way, and in the wall a grate.Then he dismounted, and drew tight the girths,On the smooth ice, of Sleipner, Odin's horse,And made him leap the grate, and came within.And he beheld spread round him Hela's realm,The plains of Niflheim, where dwell the dead,And heard the thunder of the streams of Hell.For near the wall the river of Roaring flows,Outmost; the others near the centre run—The Storm, the Abyss, the Howling, and the Pain;These flow by Hela's throne, and near their spring.And from the dark flock'd up the shadowy tribes;—And as the swallows crowd the bulrush-bedsOf some clear river, issuing from a lake,On autumn-days, before they cross the sea;And to each bulrush-crest a swallow hangsQuivering, and others skim the river-streams,And their quick twittering fills the banks and shores—So around Hermod swarm'd the twittering ghosts.Women, and infants, and young men who diedToo soon for fame, with white ungraven shields;And old men, known to glory, but their starBetray'd them, and of wasting age they died,Not wounds; yet, dying, they their armour wore,And now have chief regard in Hela's realm.Behind flock'd wrangling up a piteous crew,Greeted of none, disfeatured and forlorn—Cowards, who were in sloughs interr'd alive;And round them still the wattled hurdles hung,Wherewith they stamp'd them down, and trod them deep,To hide their shameful memory from men.But all he pass'd unhail'd, and reach'd the throneOf Hela, and saw, near it, Balder crown'd,And Hela set thereon, with countenance stern;And thus bespake him first the solemn queen:—"Unhappy, how hast thou endured to leaveThe light, and journey to the cheerless landWhere idly flit about the feeble shades?How didst thou cross the bridge o'er Giall's stream,Being alive, and come to Ocean's shore?Or how o'erleap the grate that bars the wall?"She spake: but down off Sleipner Hermod sprang,And fell before her feet, and clasp'd her knees;And spake, and mild entreated her, and said:—"O Hela, wherefore should the Gods declareTheir errands to each other, or the waysThey go? the errand and the way is known.Thou know'st, thou know'st, what grief we have in HeavenFor Balder, whom thou hold'st by right below.Restore him! for what part fulfils he here?Shall he shed cheer over the cheerless seats,And touch the apathetic ghosts with joy?Not for such end, O queen, thou hold'st thy realm.For Heaven was Balder born, the city of GodsAnd Heroes, where they live in light and joy.Thither restore him, for his place is there!"He spoke; and grave replied the solemn queen:—"Hermod, for he thou art, thou son of Heaven!A strange unlikely errand, sure, is thine.Do the Gods send to me to make them blest?Small bliss my race hath of the Gods obtained.Three mighty children to my father LokDid Angerbode, the giantess, bring forth—Fenris the wolf, the Serpent huge, and me.Of these the Serpent in the sea ye cast,Who since in your despite hath wax'd amain,And now with gleaming ring enfolds the world;Me on this cheerless nether world ye threw,And gave me nine unlighted realms to rule;While on his island in the lake afar,Made fast to the bored crag, by wile not strengthSubdued, with limber chains lives Fenris bound.Lok still subsists in Heaven, our father wise,Your mate, though loathed, and feasts in Odin's hall;But him too foes await, and netted snares,And in a cave a bed of needle-rocks,And o'er his visage serpents dropping gall.Yet he shall one day rise, and burst his bonds,And with himself set us his offspring free,When he guides Muspel's children to their bourne.Till then in peril or in pain we live,Wrought by the Gods—and ask the Gods our aid?Howbeit, we abide our day; till then,We do not as some feebler haters do—Seek to afflict our foes with petty pangs,Helpless to better us, or ruin them.Come then! if Balder was so dear beloved,And this is true, and such a loss is Heaven's—Hear, how to Heaven may Balder be restored.Show me through all the world the signs of grief!Fails but one thing to grieve, here Balder stops!Let all that lives and moves upon the earthWeep him, and all that is without life weep;Let Gods, men, brutes, beweep him; plants and stones!So shall I know the lost was dear indeed,And bend my heart, and give him back to Heaven."She spake; and Hermod answer'd her, and said:—"Hela, such as thou say'st, the terms shall be.But come, declare me this, and truly tell:May I, ere I depart, bid Balder hail,Or is it here withheld to greet the dead?"He spake, and straightway Hela answered him:—"Hermod, greet Balder if thou wilt, and holdConverse; his speech remains, though he be dead."And straight to Balder Hermod turn'd, and spake:—"Even in the abode of death, O Balder, hail!Thou hear'st, if hearing, like as speech, is thine,The terms of thy releasement hence to Heaven;Fear nothing but that all shall be fulfill'd.For not unmindful of thee are the Gods,Who see the light, and blest in Asgard dwell;Even here they seek thee out, in Hela's realm.And sure of all the happiest far art thouWho ever have been known in earth or Heaven;Alive, thou wast of Gods the most beloved,And now thou sittest crown'd by Hela's side,Here, and hast honour among all the dead."He spake; and Balder utter'd him reply,But feebly, as a voice far off; he said:—"Hermod the nimble, gild me not my death!Better to live a serf, a captured man,Who scatters rushes in a master's hall,Than be a crown'd king here, and rule the dead.And now I count not of these terms as safeTo be fulfill'd, nor my return as sure,Though I be loved, and many mourn my death;For double-minded ever was the seedOf Lok, and double are the gifts they give.Howbeit, report thy message; and therewith,To Odin, to my father, take this ring,Memorial of me, whether saved or no;And tell the Heaven-born Gods how thou hast seenMe sitting here below by Hela's side,Crown'd, having honour among all the dead."He spake, and raised his hand, and gave the ring.And with inscrutable regard the queenOf Hell beheld them, and the ghosts stood dumb.But Hermod took the ring, and yet once moreKneel'd and did homage to the solemn queen;Then mounted Sleipner, and set forth to rideBack, through the astonish'd tribes of dead, to Heaven.And to the wall he came, and found the grateLifted, and issued on the fields of ice.And o'er the ice he fared to Ocean's strand,And up from thence, a wet and misty road,To the arm'd damsel's bridge, and Giall's stream.Worse was that way to go than to return,For him;—for others all return is barr'd.Nine days he took to go, two to return,And on the twelfth morn saw the light of Heaven.And as a traveller in the early dawnTo the steep edge of some great valley comes,Through which a river flows, and sees, beneath,Clouds of white rolling vapours fill the vale,But o'er them, on the farther slope, descriesVineyards, and crofts, and pastures, bright with sun—So Hermod, o'er the fog between, saw Heaven.And Sleipner snorted, for he smelt the airOf Heaven; and mightily, as wing'd, he flew.And Hermod saw the towers of Asgard rise;And he drew near, and heard no living voiceIn Asgard; and the golden halls were dumb.Then Hermod knew what labour held the Gods;And through the empty streets he rode, and pass'dUnder the gate-house to the sands, and foundThe Gods on the sea-shore by Balder's ship.
3. FUNERAL
The Gods held talk together, group'd in knots,Round Balder's corpse, which they had thither borne;And Hermod came down tow'rds them from the gate.And Lok, the father of the serpent, firstBeheld him come, and to his neighbour spake:—"See, here is Hermod, who comes single backFrom Hell; and shall I tell thee how he seems?Like as a farmer, who hath lost his dog,Some morn, at market, in a crowded town—Through many streets the poor beast runs in vain,And follows this man after that, for hours;And, late at evening, spent and panting, fallsBefore a stranger's threshold, not his home,With flanks a-tremble, and his slender tongueHangs quivering out between his dust-smear'd jaws,And piteously he eyes the passers by;But home his master comes to his own farm,Far in the country, wondering where he is—So Hermod comes to-day unfollow'd home."And straight his neighbour, moved with wrath, replied:—"Deceiver! fair in form, but false in heart!Enemy, mocker, whom, though Gods, we hate—Peace, lest our father Odin hear thee gibe!Would I might see him snatch thee in his hand,And bind thy carcase, like a bale, with cords,And hurl thee in a lake, to sink or swim!If clear from plotting Balder's death, to swim;But deep, if thou devisedst it, to drown,And perish, against fate, before thy day."So they two soft to one another spake.But Odin look'd toward the land, and sawHis messenger; and he stood forth, and cried.And Hermod came, and leapt from Sleipner down,And in his father's hand put Sleipner's rein,And greeted Odin and the Gods, and said:—"Odin, my father, and ye, Gods of Heaven!Lo, home, having perform'd your will, I come.Into the joyless kingdom have I been,Below, and look'd upon the shadowy tribesOf ghosts, and communed with their solemn queen;And to your prayer she sends you this reply:Show her through all the world the signs of grief!Fails but one thing to grieve, there Balder stops!Let Gods, men, brutes, beweep him; plants and stones:So shall she know your loss was dear indeed,And bend her heart, and give you Balder back."He spoke; and all the Gods to Odin look'd;And straight the Father of the ages said:—"Ye Gods, these terms may keep another day.But now, put on your arms, and mount your steeds,And in procession all come near, and weepBalder; for that is what the dead desire.When ye enough have wept, then build a pileOf the heap'd wood, and burn his corpse with fireOut of our sight; that we may turn from grief,And lead, as erst, our daily life in Heaven."He spoke, and the Gods arm'd; and Odin donn'dHis dazzling corslet and his helm of gold,And led the way on Sleipner; and the restFollow'd, in tears, their father and their king.And thrice in arms around the dead they rode,Weeping; the sands were wetted, and their arms,With their thick-falling tears—so good a friendThey mourn'd that day, so bright, so loved a God.And Odin came, and laid his kingly handsOn Balder's breast, and thus began the wail:—"Farewell, O Balder, bright and loved, my son!In that great day, the twilight of the Gods,When Muspel's children shall beleaguer Heaven,Then we shall miss thy counsel and thy arm."Thou camest near the next, O warrior Thor!Shouldering thy hammer, in thy chariot drawn,Swaying the long-hair'd goats with silver'd rein;And over Balder's corpse these words didst say:—"Brother, thou dwellest in the darksome land,And talkest with the feeble tribes of ghosts,Now, and I know not how they prize thee there—But here, I know, thou wilt be miss'd and mourn'd.For haughty spirits and high wraths are rifeAmong the Gods and Heroes here in Heaven,As among those whose joy and work is war;And daily strifes arise, and angry words.But from thy lips, O Balder, night or day,Heard no one ever an injurious wordTo God or Hero, but thou keptest backThe others, labouring to compose their brawls.Be ye then kind, as Balder too was kind!For we lose him, who smoothed all strife in Heaven."He spake, and all the Gods assenting wail'd.And Freya next came nigh, with golden tears;The loveliest Goddess she in Heaven, by allMost honour'd after Frea, Odin's wife.Her long ago the wandering Oder tookTo mate, but left her to roam distant lands;Since then she seeks him, and weeps tears of gold.Names hath she many; Vanadis on earthThey call her, Freya is her name in Heaven;She in her hands took Balder's head, and spake:—"Balder, my brother, thou art gone a roadUnknown and long, and haply on that wayMy long-lost wandering Oder thou hast met,For in the paths of Heaven he is not found.Oh, if it be so, tell him what thou wastTo his neglected wife, and what he is,And wring his heart with shame, to hear thy word!For he, my husband, left me here to pine,Not long a wife, when his unquiet heartFirst drove him from me into distant lands;Since then I vainly seek him through the world,And weep from shore to shore my golden tears,But neither god nor mortal heeds my pain.Thou only, Balder, wast for ever kind,To take my hand, and wipe my tears, and say:Weep not, O Freya, weep no golden tears!One day the wandering Oder will return,Or thou wilt find him in thy faithful searchOn some great road, or resting in an inn,Or at a ford, or sleeping by a tree.So Balder said;—but Oder, well I know,My truant Oder I shall see no moreTo the world's end; and Balder now is gone,And I am left uncomforted in Heaven."She spake; and all the Goddesses bewail'd.Last from among the Heroes one came near,No God, but of the hero-troop the chief—Regner, who swept the northern sea with fleets,And ruled o'er Denmark and the heathy isles,Living; but Ella captured him and slew;—A king whose fame then fill'd the vast of Heaven,Now time obscures it, and men's later deeds.He last approach'd the corpse, and spake, and said:—"Balder, there yet are many Scalds in HeavenStill left, and that chief Scald, thy brother Brage,Whom we may bid to sing, though thou art gone.And all these gladly, while we drink, we hear,After the feast is done, in Odin's hall;But they harp ever on one string, and wakeRemembrance in our soul of wars alone,Such as on earth we valiantly have waged,And blood, and ringing blows, and violent death.But when thou sangest, Balder, thou didst strikeAnother note, and, like a bird in spring,Thy voice of joyance minded us, and youth,And wife, and children, and our ancient home.Yes, and I, too, remember'd then no moreMy dungeon, where the serpents stung me dead,Nor Ella's victory on the English coast—But I heard Thora laugh in Gothland Isle,And saw my shepherdess, Aslauga, tendHer flock along the white Norwegian beach.Tears started to mine eyes with yearning joy.Therefore with grateful heart I mourn thee dead."So Regner spake, and all the Heroes groan'd.But now the sun had pass'd the height of Heaven,And soon had all that day been spent in wail;But then the Father of the ages said:—"Ye Gods, there well may be too much of wail!Bring now the gather'd wood to Balder's ship;Heap on the deck the logs, and build the pyre."But when the Gods and Heroes heard, they broughtThe wood to Balder's ship, and built a pile,Full the deck's breadth, and lofty; then the corpseOf Balder on the highest top they laid,With Nanna on his right, and on his leftHoder, his brother, whom his own hand slew.And they set jars of wine and oil to leanAgainst the bodies, and stuck torches near,Splinters of pine-wood, soak'd with turpentine;And brought his arms and gold, and all his stuff,And slew the dogs who at his table fed,And his horse, Balder's horse, whom most he loved,And placed them on the pyre, and Odin threwA last choice gift thereon, his golden ring.The mast they fixt, and hoisted up the sails,Then they put fire to the wood; and ThorSet his stout shoulder hard against the sternTo push the ship through the thick sand;—sparks flewFrom the deep trench she plough'd, so strong a GodFurrow'd it; and the water gurgled in.And the ship floated on the waves, and rock'd.But in the hills a strong east-wind arose,And came down moaning to the sea; first squallsRan black o'er the sea's face, then steady rush'dThe breeze, and fill'd the sails, and blew the fire.And wreathed in smoke the ship stood out to sea.Soon with a roaring rose the mighty fire,And the pile crackled; and between the logsSharp quivering tongues of flame shot out, and leapt,Curling and darting, higher, until they lick'dThe summit of the pile, the dead, the mast,And ate the shrivelling sails; but still the shipDrove on, ablaze above her hull with fire.And the Gods stood upon the beach, and gazed.And while they gazed, the sun went lurid downInto the smoke-wrapt sea, and night came on.Then the wind fell, with night, and there was calm;But through the dark they watch'd the burning shipStill carried o'er the distant waters on,Farther and farther, like an eye of fire.And long, in the far dark, blazed Balder's pile;But fainter, as the stars rose high, it flared,The bodies were consumed, ash choked the pile.And as, in a decaying winter-fire,A charr'd log, falling, makes a shower of sparks—So with a shower of sparks the pile fell in,Reddening the sea around; and all was dark.But the Gods went by starlight up the shoreTo Asgard, and sate down in Odin's hallAt table, and the funeral-feast began.All night they ate the boar Serimner's flesh,And from their horns, with silver rimm'd, drank mead,Silent, and waited for the sacred morn.And morning over all the world was spread.Then from their loathéd feasts the Gods arose,And took their horses, and set forth to rideO'er the bridge Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch,To the ash Igdrasil, and Ida's plain;Thor came on foot, the rest on horseback rode.And they found Mimir sitting by his fountOf wisdom, which beneath the ashtree springs;And saw the Nornies watering the rootsOf that world-shadowing tree with honey-dew.There came the Gods, and sate them down on stones;And thus the Father of the ages said:—"Ye Gods, the terms ye know, which Hermod brought.Accept them or reject them! both have grounds.Accept them, and they bind us, unfulfill'd,To leave for ever Balder in the grave,An unrecover'd prisoner, shade with shades.But how, ye say, should the fulfilment fail?—Smooth sound the terms, and light to be fulfill'd;For dear-beloved was Balder while he livedIn Heaven and earth, and who would grudge him tears?But from the traitorous seed of Lok they come,These terms, and I suspect some hidden fraud.Bethink ye, Gods, is there no other way?—Speak, were not this a way, the way for Gods?If I, if Odin, clad in radiant arms,Mounted on Sleipner, with the warrior ThorDrawn in his car beside me, and my sons,All the strong brood of Heaven, to swell my train,Should make irruption into Hela's realm,And set the fields of gloom ablaze with light,And bring in triumph Balder back to Heaven?"He spake, and his fierce sons applauded loud.But Frea, mother of the Gods, arose,Daughter and wife of Odin; thus she said:—"Odin, thou whirlwind, what a threat is this!Thou threatenest what transcends thy might, even thine.For of all powers the mightiest far art thou,Lord over men on earth, and Gods in Heaven;Yet even from thee thyself hath been withheldOne thing—to undo what thou thyself hast ruled.For all which hath been fixt, was fixt by thee.In the beginning, ere the Gods were born,Before the Heavens were builded, thou didst slayThe giant Ymir, whom the abyss brought forth,Thou and thy brethren fierce, the sons of Bor,And cast his trunk to choke the abysmal void.But of his flesh and members thou didst buildThe earth and Ocean, and above them Heaven.And from the flaming world, where Muspel reigns,Thou sent'st and fetched'st fire, and madest lights,Sun, moon, and stars, which thou hast hung in Heaven,Dividing clear the paths of night and day.And Asgard thou didst build, and Midgard fort;Then me thou mad'st; of us the Gods were born.Last, walking by the sea, thou foundest sparsOf wood, and framed'st men, who till the earth,Or on the sea, the field of pirates, sail.And all the race of Ymir thou didst drown,Save one, Bergelmer;—he on shipboard fledThy deluge, and from him the giants sprang.But all that brood thou hast removed far off,And set by Ocean's utmost marge to dwell;But Hela into Niflheim thou threw'st,And gav'st her nine unlighted worlds to rule,A queen, and empire over all the dead.That empire wilt thou now invade, light upHer darkness, from her grasp a subject tear?—Try it; but I, for one, will not applaud.Nor do I merit, Odin, thou should'st slightMe and my words, though thou be first in Heaven;For I too am a Goddess, born of thee,Thine eldest, and of me the Gods are sprung;And all that is to come I know, but lockIn mine own breast, and have to none reveal'd.Come then! since Hela holds by right her prey,But offers terms for his release to Heaven,Accept the chance; thou canst no more obtain.Send through the world thy messengers; entreatAll living and unliving things to weepFor Balder; if thou haply thus may'st meltHela, and win the loved one back to Heaven."She spake, and on her face let fall her veil,And bow'd her head, and sate with folded hands.Nor did the all-ruling Odin slight her word;Straightway he spake, and thus address'd the Gods:"Go quickly forth through all the world, and prayAll living and unliving things to weepBalder, if haply he may thus be won."When the Gods heard, they straight arose, and tookTheir horses, and rode forth through all the world;North, south, east, west, they struck, and roam'd the world,Entreating all things to weep Balder's death.And all that lived, and all without life, wept.And as in winter, when the frost breaks up,At winter's end, before the spring begins,And a warm west-wind blows, and thaw sets in—After an hour a dripping sound is heardIn all the forests, and the soft-strewn snowUnder the trees is dibbled-thick with holes,And from the boughs the snowloads shuffle down;And, in fields sloping to the south, dark plotsOf grass peep out amid surrounding snow,And widen, and the peasant's heart is glad—So through the world was heard a dripping noiseOf all things weeping to bring Balder back;And there fell joy upon the Gods to hear.But Hermod rode with Niord, whom he tookTo show him spits and beaches of the seaFar off, where some unwarn'd might fail to weep—Niord, the God of storms, whom fishers know;Not born in Heaven; he was in Vanheim rear'd,With men, but lives a hostage with the Gods;He knows each frith, and every rocky creekFringed with dark pines, and sands where seafowl scream—They two scour'd every coast, and all things wept.And they rode home together, through the woodOf Jarnvid, which to east of Midgard liesBordering the giants, where the trees are iron;There in the wood before a cave they came,Where sate, in the cave's mouth, a skinny hag,Toothless and old; she gibes the passers by.Thok is she call'd, but now Lok wore her shape;She greeted them the first, and laugh'd, and said:—"Ye Gods, good lack, is it so dull in Heaven,That ye come pleasuring to Thok's iron wood?Lovers of change ye are, fastidious sprites.Look, as in some boor's yard a sweet-breath'd cow,Whose manger is stuff'd full of good fresh hay,Snuffs at it daintily, and stoops her headTo chew the straw, her litter, at her feet—So ye grow squeamish, Gods, and sniff at Heaven!"She spake; but Hermod answer'd her and said:—"Thok, not for gibes we come, we come for tears.Balder is dead, and Hela holds her prey,But will restore, if all things give him tears.Begrudge not thine! to all was Balder dear."Then, with a louder laugh, the hag replied:—"Is Balder dead? and do ye come for tears?Thok with dry eyes will weep o'er Balder's pyre.Weep him all other things, if weep they will—I weep him not! let Hela keep her prey."She spake, and to the cavern's depth she fled,Mocking; and Hermod knew their toil was vain.And as seafaring men, who long have wroughtIn the great deep for gain, at last come home,And towards evening see the headlands riseOf their dear country, and can plain descryA fire of wither'd furze which boys have litUpon the cliffs, or smoke of burning weedsOut of a till'd field inland;—then the windCatches them, and drives out again to sea;And they go long days tossing up and downOver the grey sea-ridges, and the glimpseOf port they had makes bitterer far their toil—So the Gods' cross was bitterer for their joy.Then, sad at heart, to Niord Hermod spake:—"It is the accuser Lok, who flouts us all!Ride back, and tell in Heaven this heavy news;I must again below, to Hela's realm."He spoke; and Niord set forth back to Heaven.But northward Hermod rode, the way below,The way he knew; and traversed Giall's stream,And down to Ocean groped, and cross'd the ice,And came beneath the wall, and found the grateStill lifted; well was his return foreknown.And once more Hermod saw around him spreadThe joyless plains, and heard the streams of Hell.But as he enter'd, on the extremest boundOf Niflheim, he saw one ghost come near,Hovering, and stopping oft, as if afraid—Hoder, the unhappy, whom his own hand slew.And Hermod look'd, and knew his brother's ghost,And call'd him by his name, and sternly said:—"Hoder, ill-fated, blind in heart and eyes!Why tarriest thou to plunge thee in the gulphOf the deep inner gloom, but flittest here,In twilight, on the lonely verge of Hell,Far from the other ghosts, and Hela's throne?Doubtless thou fearest to meet Balder's voice,Thy brother, whom through folly thou didst slay."He spoke; but Hoder answer'd him, and said:—"Hermod the nimble, dost thou still pursueThe unhappy with reproach, even in the grave?For this I died, and fled beneath the gloom,Not daily to endure abhorring Gods,Nor with a hateful presence cumber Heaven;And canst thou not, even here, pass pitying by?No less than Balder have I lost the lightOf Heaven, and communion with my kin;I too had once a wife, and once a child,And substance, and a golden house in Heaven—But all I left of my own act, and fledBelow, and dost thou hate me even here?Balder upbraids me not, nor hates at all,Though he has cause, have any cause; but he,When that with downcast looks I hither came,Stretch'd forth his hand, and with benignant voice,Welcome, he said,if there be welcome here,Brother and fellow-sport of Lok with me!And not to offend thee, Hermod, nor to forceMy hated converse on thee, came I upFrom the deep gloom, where I will now return;But earnestly I long'd to hover near,Not too far off, when that thou camest by;To feel the presence of a brother God,And hear the passage of a horse of Heaven,For the last time—for here thou com'st no more."He spake, and turn'd to go to the inner gloom.But Hermod stay'd him with mild words, and said:—"Thou doest well to chide me, Hoder blind!Truly thou say'st, the planning guilty mindWas Lok's; the unwitting hand alone was thine.But Gods are like the sons of men in this—When they have woe, they blame the nearest cause.Howbeit stay, and be appeased! and tell:Sits Balder still in pomp by Hela's side,Or is he mingled with the unnumber'd dead?"And the blind Hoder answer'd him and spake:—"His place of state remains by Hela's side,But empty; for his wife, for Nanna cameLately below, and join'd him; and the pairFrequent the still recesses of the realmOf Hela, and hold converse undisturb'd.But they too, doubtless, will have breathed the balm,Which floats before a visitant from Heaven,And have drawn upward to this verge of Hell."He spake; and, as he ceased, a puff of windRoll'd heavily the leaden mist asideRound where they stood, and they beheld two formsMake toward them o'er the stretching cloudy plain.And Hermod straight perceived them, who they wereBalder and Nanna; and to Balder said:—"Balder, too truly thou foresaw'st a snare!Lok triumphs still, and Hela keeps her prey.No more to Asgard shalt thou come, nor lodgeIn thy own house, Breidablik, nor enjoyThe love all bear toward thee, nor train upForset, thy son, to be beloved like thee.Here must thou lie, and wait an endless age.Therefore for the last time, O Balder, hail!"He spake; and Balder answer'd him, and said:—"Hail and farewell! for here thou com'st no more.Yet mourn not for me, Hermod, when thou sitt'stIn Heaven, nor let the other Gods lament,As wholly to be pitied, quite forlorn.For Nanna hath rejoin'd me, who, of old,In Heaven, was seldom parted from my side;And still the acceptance follows me, which crown'dMy former life, and cheers me even here.The iron frown of Hela is relax'dWhen I draw nigh, and the wan tribes of deadLove me, and gladly bring for my awardTheir ineffectual feuds and feeble hates—Shadows of hates, but they distress them still."And the fleet-footed Hermod made reply:—"Thou hast then all the solace death allows,Esteem and function; and so far is well.Yet here thou liest, Balder, underground,Rusting for ever; and the years roll on,The generations pass, the ages grow,And bring us nearer to the final dayWhen from the south shall march the fiery bandAnd cross the bridge of Heaven, with Lok for guide,And Fenris at his heel with broken chain;While from the east the giant Rymer steersHis ship, and the great serpent makes to land;And all are marshall'd in one flaming squareAgainst the Gods, upon the plains of Heaven,I mourn thee, that thou canst not help us then."He spake; but Balder answer'd him, and said:—"Mourn not for me! Mourn, Hermod, for the Gods;Mourn for the men on earth, the Gods in Heaven,Who live, and with their eyes shall see that day!The day will come, when fall shall Asgard's towers,And Odin, and his sons, the seed of Heaven;But what were I, to save them in that hour?If strength might save them, could not Odin save,My father, and his pride, the warrior Thor,Vidar the silent, the impetuous Tyr?I, what were I, when these can nought avail?Yet, doubtless, when the day of battle comes,And the two hosts are marshall'd, and in HeavenThe golden-crested cock shall sound alarm,And his black brother-bird from hence reply,And bucklers clash, and spears begin to pour—Longing will stir within my breast, though vain.But not to me so grievous, as, I know,To other Gods it were, is my enforcedAbsence from fields where I could nothing aid;For I am long since weary of your stormOf carnage, and find, Hermod, in your lifeSomething too much of war and broils, which makeLife one perpetual fight, a bath of blood.Mine eyes are dizzy with the arrowy hail;Mine ears are stunn'd with blows, and sick for calm.Inactive therefore let me lie, in gloom,Unarm'd, inglorious; I attend the courseOf ages, and my late return to light,In times less alien to a spirit mild,In new-recover'd seats, the happier day."He spake; and the fleet Hermod thus replied:—"Brother, what seats are these, what happier day?Tell me, that I may ponder it when gone."And the ray-crowned Balder answer'd him:—"Far to the south, beyond the blue, there spreadsAnother Heaven, the boundless—no one yetHath reach'd it; there hereafter shall ariseThe second Asgard, with another name.Thither, when o'er this present earth and HeavensThe tempest of the latter days hath swept,And they from sight have disappear'd, and sunk,Shall a small remnant of the Gods repair;Hoder and I shall join them from the grave.There re-assembling we shall see emergeFrom the bright Ocean at our feet an earthMore fresh, more verdant than the last, with fruitsSelf-springing, and a seed of man preserved,Who then shall live in peace, as now in war.But we in Heaven shall find again with joyThe ruin'd palaces of Odin, seatsFamiliar, halls where we have supp'd of old;Re-enter them with wonder, never fillOur eyes with gazing, and rebuild with tears.And we shall tread once more the well-known plainOf Ida, and among the grass shall findThe golden dice wherewith we play'd of yore;And that will bring to mind the former lifeAnd pastime of the Gods, the wise discourseOf Odin, the delights of other days,O Hermod, pray that thou may'st join us then!Such for the future is my hope; meanwhile,I rest the thrall of Hela, and endureDeath, and the gloom which round me even nowThickens, and to its inner gulph recalls.Farewell, for longer speech is not allow'd!"He spoke, and waved farewell, and gave his handTo Nanna; and she gave their brother blindHer hand, in turn, for guidance; and the threeDeparted o'er the cloudy plain, and soonFaded from sight into the interior gloom.But Hermod stood beside his drooping horse,Mute, gazing after them in tears; and fain,Fain had he follow'd their receding steps,Though they to death were bound, and he to Heaven,Then; but a power he could not break withheld.And as a stork which idle boys have trapp'd,And tied him in a yard, at autumn seesFlocks of his kind pass flying o'er his headTo warmer lands, and coasts that keep the sun;—He strains to join their flight, and from his shedFollows them with a long complaining cry—So Hermod gazed, and yearn'd to join his kin.
At last he sigh'd, and set forth back to Heaven.