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 withheld
One thing; to undo what thou thyself hast rul’d.
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 slay
The Giant Ymir, whom the Abyss brought forth,
Thou and thy brethren fierce, the Sons of Bor,
And threw his trunk to choke the abysmal void:
But of his flesh and members thou didst build
The 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 spars
Of 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 fled
Thy deluge, and from him the Giants sprang;
But all that brood thou hast remov’d 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 up
Her darkness, from her grasp a subject tear?—
Try it; but I, for one, will not applaud.
Nor do I merit, Odin, thou should’st slight
Me 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 lock
In my 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: entreat
All living and unliving things to weep
For Balder; if thou haply thus may’st melt
Hela, and win the lov’d 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 pray
All living and unliving things to weep
Balder, if haply he may thus be won.”
When the Gods heard, they straight arose, and took
Their 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 liv’d, 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 heard
In all the forests, and the soft-strewn snow
Under the trees is dibbled thick with holes,
And from the boughs the snowloads shuffle down;
And, in fields sloping to the south dark plots
Of grass peep out amid surrounding snow,
And widen, and the peasant’s heart is glad—
So through the world was heard a dripping noise
Of all things weeping to bring Balder back:
And there fell joy upon the Gods to hear.
But Hermod rode with Niord, whom he took
To show him spits and beaches of the sea
Far 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 creek
Fring’d 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 wood
Of Jarnvid, which to east of Midgard lies
Bordering 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 head
To 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.”
But, 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 wrought
In the great deep for gain, at last come home,
And towards evening see the headlands rise
Of their own country, and can clear descry
A fire of wither’d furze which boys have lit
Upon the cliffs, or smoke of burning weeds
Out of a till’d field inland;—then the wind
Catches them, and drives out again to sea:
And they go long days tossing up and down
Over the grey sea-ridges; and the glimpse
Of 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 travers’d Giall’s stream,
And down to Ocean grop’d, and cross’d the ice,
And came beneath the wall, and found the grate
Still lifted; well
