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 dawn
To 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, descries
Vineyards, and crofts, and pastures, bright with sun—
So Hermod, o’er the fog between, saw Heaven.
And Sleipner snorted, for he smelt the air
Of Heaven: and mightily, as wing’d, he flew.
And Hermod saw the towers of Asgard rise:
And he drew near, and heard no living voice
In Asgard; and the golden halls were dumb.
Then Hermod knew what labour held the Gods:
And through the empty streets he rode, and pass’d
Under the gate-house to the sands, and found
The Gods on the sea shore by Balder’s ship.
III
Funeral
The Gods held talk together, group’d in knots,
Round Balder’s corpse, which they had thither borne;
And Hermod came down towards them from the gate.
And Lok, the Father of the Serpent, first
Beheld him come, and to his neighbour spake:—
“See, here is Hermod, who comes single back
From 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, falls
Before a stranger’s threshold, not his home,
With flanks a-tremble, and his slender tongue
Hangs 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, mov’d 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 saw
His 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 tribes
Of 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 weep
Balder; for that is what the dead desire.
When ye enough have wept, then build a pile
Of the heap’d wood, and burn his corpse with fire
Out 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’d
His dazzling corslet and his helm of gold,
And led the way on Sleipner: and the rest
Follow’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 friend
They mourn’d that day, so bright, so lov’d a God.
And Odin came, and laid his kingly hands
On Balder’s breast, and thus began the wail:—
“Farewell, O Balder, bright and lov’d, 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 rife
Among 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 word
To God or Hero, but thou keptest back
The others, labouring to compose their brawls.
Be ye then kind, as Balder too was kind:
For we lose him, who smooth’d 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 all
Most honour’d after Frea, Odin’s wife:
Her long ago the wandering Oder took
To mate, but left her to roam distant lands;
Since then she seeks him, and weeps tears of gold:
Names hath she many; Vanadis on earth
They 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 road
Unknown and long, and haply on that way
My 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 wert
To 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 heart
First 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, wert 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
