{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_13879/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_13879","id":"gutenberg_13879","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13879","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Plays/Films/Dramas","Danish drama -- Translations into English"],"text":"Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk\n\nAn Edition of 250 Copies only will be printed.\nNo more will be published.\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEATH OF BALDER\nFROM THE DANISH OF JOHANNES EWALD\n(1773)\nTRANSLATED BY GEORGE BORROW\n\n\nAuthor of \"Bible in Spain,\" \"Lavengro,\" \"Wild Wales,\" etc.\n\nLONDON\nJARROLD & SONS, 3 PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS, E.C.\n1889\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE TO THE TRANSLATION.\n\n\nThe works of the late poet Ewald are deservedly popular in Denmark.  The\npresent tragedy, and the opera of \"The Fishermen\" (\"Fiskerne\"), in which\noccurs the bold lyric which has become the national song of the Danes,\nare esteemed his best productions.\n\nFor the fidelity with which the present version has been made I appeal to\nthose of my countrymen who understand the original, and demand whether I\nhave given a thought or expression equivalents to which are not to be\nfound in the Danish tragedy.\n\nI have imitated the peculiar species of blank verse in which the original\nis composed, in order that the English reader may form an exact idea\nthereof, and though by having done so my poetry may have somewhat of a\ncramped, embarrassed gait, I have a firm hope that I shall not meet very\nsevere reprehension for having sacrificed elegance to fidelity.\n\nGEORGE BORROW.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PERSONS.\n\n\nBalder.  Hother.\nThor.  Nanna.\nLoke.  The Three Valkyrier.\n\nThe place of action is a pine-wood on the Norwegian mountains.  Round\nabout it are seen steep and uneven rocks.  The top of the hindermost and\nhighest is covered with snow.\n\n\n\n\nACT THE FIRST.\n\n\nBALDER and THOR are seated upon stones at some distance from each other.\nBoth are armed--THOR with his hammer, and BALDER with spear and sword.\n\nBALDER.  Land whose proud and rocky bosom\nBraves the sky continually!\n\nTHOR.  Where should strength and valour blossom,\nLand of rocks, if not in thee?\n\nBALDER.  Odin's shafts of ruddy levin\nBack from thy hard sides are driven;\nNever sun thy snow dispels.\n\nTHOR.  Sure, he'll joy in deeds of daring,\nNe'er for ease voluptuous caring,\nWho upon the mountain dwells.\n\nBOTH.  Land whose proud and rocky bosom\nBraves the sky continually!\nWhere should strength and valour blossom,\nLand of rocks, if not in thee?\n\nBALDER (he springs up, but THOR remains sitting, like one in deep\nthought).  Ha!  I will quickly fly from thee for ever,\nThou hated land, where everything so proudly\nUpbraids me for my weakness--for my fetters:\nWhere I, pursu'd by pains of hopeless passion,\nThe live-long nights among deaf rocks do wander--\nWhose echoes sport with Balder's lamentations,\nEach cold, each feelingless, as Nanna's bosom,\nThe fair, unpitying savage!\n\nTHOR.  Son of Odin!\n\nBALDER.  Speak, mighty Thor!\n\nTHOR.  Thou sighest, then--and vainly?\n\nBALDER.  Vainly: without a glimpse of hope; bewildered.\nWhat, what have I not promised, vow'd, attempted?\nHow oft have I, O Thor!--I blush, but hear it--\nTo tears debas'd myself: my tears have trickled--\nHave vainly trickled--before Gevar's daughter.\n\nTHOR.  Ha!  Gevar's daughter?\n\nBALDER.  Yes, the haughty Nanna.\n\nTHOR.  Dost mean the daughter of the wise King Gevar,\nWho reads the actions of the unborn hero,\nThe will of Fate, malicious foemen's projects,\nAnd war and death of warriors in the planets:\nDost mean his daughter?\n\nBALDER.  Think'st thou other fathers possess a Nanna?\n\nTHOR.  Gods!\n\n[He again casts his eyes upon the ground, like one who meditates deeply.\n\nBALDER.  Behind yon pine wood he built an altar unto thee and Odin,\nThere thou mayst see the roof of his still dwelling.\nThere lives the earthly Freia--cruel maiden--\nThere slumbers she, perhaps--the proud one rests in\nJoy's downy arms, undreaming aught of Balder!\nAs if I did not love, were not a half-god;\nAs if by Skalds my name were never chanted\nAs if I were a demon, bad as Loke!\nHa! if upon my tongue lurked bane and magic,\nWhen fear enchains it and the pale lip trembles;\nWhen broken words and a disordered wailing\nAre all with which I can express my bosom's\nDesire intense, and dread unwonted torments.\nHa! were my voice like Find's when he, distracted,\nGoes over Horthedal; as when he bellows,\nAnd wild at last, and blind with fury, splinters\nThe oaks, the glory of the sacred forest.\nHa! if the blood of maids and unarm'd wretches\nOf harmless travellers, stained the hands of Balder--\nIf ruddy lightnings burnt between these fingers--\nThen might'st thou well be pale;\nAnd thou wert right to fly from me, O Nanna!\n\nTHOR.  Now, Balder, hear my word, and fly from Nanna!\n\nBALDER.  From Nanna!  Yes, I ought--that see I plainly.\nHa! some accursed fiend my foot has fasten'd\nTo these wild mountains and to Nanna's shadow!\nAnd is there nothing then of hope remaining?\nWhen did I first become so grim--so frightful?\nWhen?  Tell me, Thor, is breath of mine destructive?\nHas death among my tears and smiles its dwelling?\nWhat shall I do?  Reply!  But thou art silent,\nAnd from thine eyeball flames contemptuous anger.\n\nTHOR (he rises).  Ha! drivellest thou before the God of Thunder?\n\nBALDER.  To Thor, to Odin's friend, I breathe my sorrow.\n\nTHOR.  How long dost think, degenerate son of Odin,\nUnmanly pining for a foolish maiden,\nAnd all the weary train of love-sick follies,\nWill move a bosom that is steeled by virtue?\nThou dotest!  Dote and weep, in tears swim ever;\nBut by thy father's arm, by Odin's honour,\nHaste, hide thy tears and thee in shades of alder!\nHaste to the still, the peace-accustom'd valley,\nWhere lazy herdsmen dance amid the clover.\nThere wet each leaf which soft the west wind kisses,\nEach plant which breathes around voluptuous odours,\nWith tears!  There sigh and moan and the tired peasant\nShall hear thee, and, behind his ploughshare resting,\nShall wonder at thy grief, and pity Balder!\n\nBALDER.  And is this all the comfort thou canst offer?\n\nTHOR.  I gave thee counsel: fly from her who flies thee!\nWhat holds thee here, where thou canst hope for nothing?\n\nBALDER.  And can I?  Ah, my friend, that is my duty!\nBut fly!  And never, never see thee, Nanna!\nAnd ne'er again behold the roof where under\nThou sleepest!  Honour the mere thought destroyeth!\nEre that, I'll perish here, unfamed, forgotten!\n\nTHOR.  Well, perish, then!  I see too plain 'tis useless\nAgainst a harsh, eternal fate to struggle!\n\n   The hill fiend dreads my hammer's might\n   Before it turns the Jotun white,\n   And rocks, whereon I strike, give way.\n   But nothing cruel fate can move;\n   And what Allfather there above\n   Resolves upon, stands firm for aye.\n\nKnow, son of Odin, thou whom reason, friendship,\nWhom scorn--e'en scorn--to move are all unable,\nKnow that prophetic were thy words!  Fate hastens!\nThe Valkyrie prepares the spear already,\nIts deadly point already does she sharpen.\nAh, see! the prince of battle holds it brandish'd;\nHe strikes! he strikes! and all the Aser sorrow.\n\nBALDER.  Dark is thy speech, O Thor! dark as thy visage.\n\nTHOR.  Before my eyes are murky shadows flitting.\nA mortal youth, with blood of Asa crimson'd!\nThe fight and death of gods, the fall of Asgara!\nHear, son of Odin, wretched slave of passion,\nThink not that dreams, that magic's foul deception,\nThat spectres of the night my brain bewilder;\nAnd oh! think not that merely chance has led me\nTo Balder's presence, and to these high forests!\nI sought thee, came with speed to give thee warning:\nFear, then!  It is thy friend, 'tis Thor, who's speaking!\nAnd on my lips I bear the words of Odin.\nThou know'st there grows in night's mysterious valley\nA tree, as yet by men or gods seen never;\nIt bears a bough, which bough, when once 'tis harden'd\nIn Nastroud's flames, can slay thee.\n\nBALDER.  Yes, I know it.\n\nTHOR.  That knowest thou, friend!  And is it a mere slumber,\nA fleeting trance, a pleasant dream of battle,\nWith which the spear's impregnated in Nastroud?\nHa! whom it slays wakes never up in Valhall;\nIn mist and darkness must he lie for ever.\nFrom gods and men alike for ever parted,\nMust Balder be detested--Haela's booty,\nNot Odin's quest?\n\nBALDER.  Aye; when the tree's discover'd.\n\nTHOR.  Well, now, attend and heed a father's warning!\nWhen Odin high from Lidskialf saw thee raving,\nIn toils of love, 'mong Norway's snowy mountains,\nThe speech of Mimmer on his heart fell heavy.\nHear it and tremble!  Not for death, O Balder!\nNor e'en for Haela, but thy father's anguish;\n\"The year\"--such was his word (thou knowest Mimmer,\nAnd scarce canst think he'd breathe the words of falsehood)--\n\"The year when Norway's desert hills shall echo\nThe half-god's wasted love-caus'd lamentations,\nWhen he's rejected by a prophet's daughter,\nThat year shall see the spear which holds his ruin,\nShall see the gods in grief, and Odin weeping.\"\nHear that and quake!  And fly, and spare thy father!\nIf not, dote on and die, for that's thy fortune!\n\n[He disappears among the trees.\n\nBALDER (alone).  And must I die?  Ah well, I merely forfeit\nA worthless breath, which is by Nanna hated.\nHa! hated.  How that thought that Nanna hates me\nTorments my breast!  Death, only death, can drown it.\nIt burns, it scorches me, like Nastroud's blazes.\nCome, tenfold death, come quickly, and extinguish\nThe thought: destroy it, crush it, with this bosom.\nThanks be to Thor, for he my eyelids lifted,\nDisclosing I had chance of rest--of dying!\nE'en Surtur, he whose hostile fingers planted\nThe tree, the black tree, by the feeble starlight;\nWho nurs'd its infant root with blood fresh taken\nFrom slaughter'd babes, and drew a circle round it,\nAnd mutter'd magic words, and gave it power\nTo shoot the bane of Nastroud in my bosom,\nWas not so cruel as thyself, O Nanna!\nWhat! cruel?  No, by Odin!  Pity drove him\nTo rear up remedy benign and grateful\nFor the dire wound with which thou torment'st me.\nAh, maid! thou mak'st me look to death with longing\nAnd yet to die! and die from thee! and never--\nHa! my heart freezes!  The mere word would kill me!\nBut then, most likely thou wilt pity Balder,\nAnd with a hot, a precious tear bedew him!\n\n   Say, O maid! when thou dost pour\n   From thine eyes the briny shower\n   O'er a lifeless lump of clay!\n   Cease thy weeping, cruel maiden:\n   All thy grief is vainly vented:\n   See the breast so long tormented\n   Which thy pity now should gladden,\n   Beats no more and rots away!\n   O Nanna!  Nanna!\n\n[He sits down and holds both his hands before his eyes.\n\nLOKE (in the shape of an old Finman).  Balder!\n\n[He walks in a crooked attitude, and supports himself upon a knotted\nstaff.  He enters so that his back is turned to BALDER.\n\nHelp, ye gods of heaven!\nOh, I unfortunate! that frost and hunger,\nAnd fear of bears and wolves and evil spirits\nShould now destroy me on these frightful mountains!\nOh, that I but beheld a smoke uprising,\nA single trace of a bewildered hunter!\nThat I but heard a cheery horn resounding!\nBut nothing, nothing!  Never, never rises\nA friendly sound among these wildernesses,\nWhich human feet till now has never trodden.\nAh! who will succour me?\n\nBALDER (goes towards him and takes him kindly by the arm).  What ails\nthee, father?\n\nLOKE (as if terrified).  Aha! I can no more!  Ah!\n\nBALDER.  Come and rest thee!\nHere lean upon my arm!\n\nLOKE.  Ah!\n\nBALDER.  How thou tremblest,\nMy hoary friend!  But cast thy terrors from thee--\nThere thou art safe: this breast is warmed by pity.\n\nLOKE.  Forgive me, sir; forsooth, I was confounded!\nThou see'st in me a poor and ancient Finman.\nFar, far away from these terrific mountains,\nThis year I built of flags and stones my hovel;\nI sought for reindeer--all my wealth; they doubtless\nWere captured by the bear!  I, wretched being!\nMy sight is feeble, and the night surprised me;\nThe wind, as I observe too late, has shifted,\nAnd not a star is gleaming in the heavens:\nAh! far must be the way unto my hovel!\nMy feet are wearied out, for I have wandered\nThe long and chilly night among the mountains.\n\nBALDER.  What wishest thou?\n\nLOKE.  I die of frost and hunger.\nWhoe'er thou art, and if thou feelest pity--\nExcuse my doubt--yet wouldst thou save the remnant\nOf life which trembles on my lips, conduct me\nStraight to the cheering hearth where bask thy servants.\n\nBALDER.  The way would prove for thee too far; but see'st thou\nThe lofty roof behind the forest yonder,\nThere, there resides of earth the fairest daughter:\nThither repair, thou fortunate old stranger!\nThere she resides.--Ah! thou wilt be to Nanna\nA dear, a welcome guest!  She loves the wretched;\nHer noble heart swells always with compassion\nFor every sufferer.  Only not--Thou stayest!\nWhy go'st thou not?\n\nLOKE.  I go; but thou wast speaking,\nMethinks, of Nanna?\n\nBALDER.  Yes.\n\nLOKE.  Of Gevar's daughter?\n\nBALDER (astonished).  Thou know'st her?\n\nLOKE.  No; but oftentimes her bridegroom\nHas come fatigued with hunting, to my hovel.\n\nBALDER.  Ah who--\n\nLOKE (turns away as if to depart).  She dwells there, does she?\n\nBALDER (seizes him by the arm).  Stay! who is the bride-groom?\nSpeak, reptile, speak!  Who?  When?  Reply, thou traitor,\nOr here thou diest!\n\nLOKE.  Spare me, sir, in mercy!\nI faint with terror!\n\nBALDER.  Speak! by all the powers,\nThy smallest hair is sacred!  I have promised.\nNow, speak!\n\nLOKE.  I am an old and harmless creature.\n\nBALDER.  But Nanna's bridegroom?\n\nLOKE.  Truly, sir, I wonder,\nThat one like thee, a dweller 'mongst these mountains,\nShould know him not, the noblest and the bravest\nOf all the sons of earth.\n\nBALDER.  Ye gods of heaven!\nAnd who?  His name?\n\nLOKE.  One who is bold as Odin,\nAnd strong as Thor, and beautiful as Balder.\n\nBALDER.  Ha! kill me not, but answer: name him.\n\nLOKE (with a loud voice).  Hother!\n\nBALDER (with agitation).  What!  Who?  The Leire King?\nThe Skioldung Hother?\n\nLOKE.  Who here is foster'd up by Nanna's father.\n\nBALDER.  Thou killest me!  Thou see'st how I tremble!\nYet, that I never saw him here!  Where is he?\n\nLOKE.  At Gevar's.\n\nBALDER.  By the gods, it overcomes me!\nWhat, under Nanna's roof?\n\nLOKE.  At night-time only,\nAs I believe; for ere the east hills redden,\nUpstarts he, lovely as a young spring morning,\nAnd griping firm his lusty spear, he wanders\nAmong the rocks.  Ah, master! thou hast seen him--\nWithouten doubt thou hast.  'Tis true he hideth\nFor some time past his god-like form in wadmal, {1}\nAnd rolls beneath a rugged cap his tresses--\nI wonder, wherefore.\n\nBALDER.  Ha! thou flash of lightning,\nWhich clear'st all up at once!  I, wretched madman!\nHow senseless was I, and by pride how blinded\nTo sons of earth my eyes I never lower'd.\nAh! is my proud solicitude thus baffled?\nBut she can only love the gods, I'm certain!\n\nLOKE.  Excuse me, sir, I do not understand thee.\nShe loves not Odin half so much as Hother.\n\nBALDER.  Fly, slave--begone! for Udgaard, Loke's poison,\nIs on thy tongue!  That foe of gods has sent thee:\nThou art his messenger, thou art--thou art, thou traitor!\nDost dare to linger?  But thou art in safety,\nFor, worm, thy weakness and my oath protect thee.\nHa! I myself will fly before my fury.  [He goes.\n\nLOKE (he looks contemptuously after BALDER, then raises himself to his\nfull height, discards at once his assumed figure, and appears as LOKE).\nMy weakness, mighty Balder?  Do not scorn it!\nTo dust and ashes, boaster, it shall crush thee.\nNot Loke's messenger, but Loke, stung thee.\nAlready bellows the young god with torment:\nHear, Odin! hear thy lov'd one, hear him howling!\nDelay thee not! enjoy his voice and feel it!\nHarmonious is it to the ears of Loke.\nQuick, quick! thou ne'er again, perchance, will hear it.\nSurvey him near: how swells each vein with poison,\nWhich I have poured into his breast with cunning!\nSoon Odin, soon will thy beloved be silent;\nSoon from thy sight will Balder flit for ever;\nThen will it be thy turn to mourn, O tyrant!\nIt comes--the long-protracted day of vengeance!\nIt comes--the sigh'd-for hour of retribution!\nHow long hast thou not tortur'd Loke's bowels,\nAnd fearless trampled 'neath thy feet his offspring?\nHear Hael and Fenris' Wolf, and Midgaard's Serpent--\nLoud howl they!--hear them night and day proclaiming\nThy unmatched cruelty with frightful voices!\nEach of them was a god, and fair as Balder,\nBut now to earth and heaven, and to myself, a horror:\nEach is a monster, bow'd with chains of darkness.\nThe hour's at hand, the tardy hour of vengeance:\nAlready blow I in war's horn: to combat,\nUp, up ye mighty gods, and rescue Balder!\nThere see I him, the hero youth, who only,\nArm'd with the tree of death by Odin's maidens,\nCan be--so Fate decrees--this Balder's slayer.\nAnd he shall be it: quickly shall he brandish\nThe life-destroying bough, if Asa Loke,\nBy mighty art and wonderful delusions,\nKnows how to work the maidens to his purpose.\nHe comes!  I will conceal myself, and listen.\n\nHOTHER, and presently LOKE--the first dressed like a Norwegian peasant,\nwith a hunting-spear in his hand; the other undistinguished.\n\nHOTHER (he comes down from the rocks and unbinds the skiers {2} from his\nfeet ere he steps forward on the scene).\n\nUpon the oak's summit,\nA squirrel at play\nDeceives with a rustle\nThe hunter so gay;\nHe starts, and, low crouching,\nHis spear he grasps tight,\nAnd, swelling up, boundeth\nHis hand with delight.\n\nNow quick--be not daunted!\nHe's coming--take heed!\nThe bold bear, the old bear,\nDoth hitherward speed.\nOh, sound the most pleasant\nThis ear ever knew!\nHe cometh--a bigger\nThis weapon ne'er slew.\n\nThou sovereign of forests!\nThou pride of thy race!\nOh, fortunate hunter--\nOh, glorious chase!\nNow quick! be not daunted,\nHe comes--be prepared!\nWhere is he, the savage?\nHis bellow, who heard?\n\nNo more on the oak-top\nThe squirrel doth play;\nDeceived has a rustle\nThe hunter so gay;\nNo sound as he listens\nHis hearing assails,\nSave the pattering of leaves\nThat are moved by the gales.\n\nThere comes he--where?  Oh, what a foolish stripling\nAm I, who here about four days have wandered\nIn quest of a mere phantom!  Surely, Nanna,\nThou dost deceive me--dost but prove thy lover;\nAnd think'st thou, virtuous one, that if a godhead\nCame down in light effulgent, and before thee\nKnelt and laid heaven at thy feet--Ha! think'st\nThou that fear, base doubt of Nanna's faith and\nHonour, would sully Hother's breast?  I know thou\nLovest me--thou hast avowed it: what shall then\nThis wooer avail--this wooer who must not be\nAnger'd?  Why the deception?\n\nLOKE.  Hail, thou son of Hothbrod!\n\nHOTHER (astonished).  Ha! scarcely do I know myself!\nBy Odin,\nI look more like a rugged elf than Hother.\nAnd who art thou, that knowest me? who art thou?\n\nLOKE.  My name is Vanfred!  When thy mother bore thee\nI was at hand and swore unto thee friendship.\n\nHOTHER.  Grim is thy visage, and thine eye doth promise,\nBut little good.  What dost thou seek?\n\nLOKE.  Whom, Skolding,\nWhom fearest thou?  Why hide in yonder vestments?\n\nHOTHER.  I fear? thou warlock!  Wise thou wert in speaking\nOf friendship!\n\nLOKE.  Spare thy wrath my youthful warrior!\nReserve it for thy foes!\n\nHOTHER.  They shall not miss it!\n\nLOKE.  And yet 'tis plain thou hidest thee from some one.\n\nHOTHER.  It was Nanna bade me.  Ha!  I blush by heaven!\nWhen Nanna spake I always blindly listen'd.\nShe has disguised me, as thou see'st, stranger;\nShe plagues me with her fears; the dreamer would not--\nWould really not--for all the wide world's riches,\nThat the wood goblin, or perhaps some lover\nInvisible, should know me.\n\nLOKE.  Pretty folly!\nBalder invisible! the handsome half-god!\n\nHOTHER.  What!  Balder, son of Odin?  He her lover?\nO heaven!  Say, where is he? where?\n\nLOKE.  With Nanna.\n\nHOTHER.  There?  Now?  (After some refection.)  She drove me out.\n\nLOKE.  Perhaps, thou see'st\nThat she has rid herself of thee by cunning.\n\nHOTHER.  I simply thought the Alf had caus'd thy terror;\nBut Balder, false one, he shall soon experience\nThat I fear no one.  [About to go.\n\nLOKE.  Softly, prince! be cautious!\nI see thy courage; but thy foe is mighty.\n\nHOTHER.  Is my arm weak?\n\nLOKE.  It is against a half-god;\nYet he can die.  I know a spear which slayeth.\n\nHOTHER.  Thou dreamest!\n\nLOKE.  Spare thy doubts.  That spear or nothing\nCan wound his breast.--But see, the sun is rising,\nAnd I must fly to subterranean places;\nBut I'll forsake thee not.  This horn I give thee,\nAnd when thy need is greatest, then, O Hother!\nBlow strongly in that horn, and turning westward,\nCall thrice aloud on Vanfred--Vanfred!  Vanfred!\n\n[The two last times he cries it with a hollow voice, after having\ndisappeared among the rocks, and the last time of all evidently farther\naway than the other.  Immediately thereupon a noise is heard among the\nrocks, as of distant thunder.\n\nHOTHER, and presently NANNA.\n\nHOTHER (casts away the horn).  Accurs'd be thou, thy horn, and all thy\nmagic!\nIs Hother fearful?  Does he crave in battle\nThe aid of warlocks and of arts ignoble?\nIs not my arm sufficient?  Ha!  I'll show thee!\n\n[He is going; but NANNA meets him at the entrance of the scene.\n\nNANNA.  Where now?\n\nHOTHER.  I go to dare the wrath of Balder.\n\nNANNA (affrighted).  Ah!\n\nHOTHER.  His stern look may teach me how to tremble.\n\nNANNA.  O Heaven!\n\nHOTHER.  Hold me not!\n\nNANNA (anxiously and affectionately).  Where now, my Hother?\n\nHOTHER.  I soon shall find him!\n\n[He goes in spite of NANNA'S endeavour to detain him.\n\nNANNA.  Ah! he goes--he rages;\nAnd Balder yells with wrath.  Some serpent surely\nHas breath'd to-day his poison in their bosoms.\nThey hate, they seek each other!  Who asunder\nWill hold the raging bears.  Ah! who will soften\nThe foaming ones?  I have this hour expected,\nAnd long by art have I delay'd its coming;\nBut now is art, and prayer, and all else useless:\nE'en now they meet in conflict.  I am powerless!\nWhat can my tears avail?  Alas! blood only\nWill satiate them and Heaven: thine must trickle,\nMy Hother.  What art thou against a half-god?\nWhen thy fire, Ourath, but glimmers,\nTears can quench it instantly;\nBut it flames, and now 'twere wonder\nCould the weak drops keep it under.\nAh! thy blazes fierce and cruel\nIn the lov'd one's grief find fuel,\nAnd are fann'd by plaintive cry.\nTear, with which mine eye is swelling,\nThou canst not remove the ill;\nO keep in thou fruitless wailing,\nLet my bosom hide thee still.  [She goes.\n\n\n\n\nACT THE SECOND.\n\n\nThe three VALKRIER.  They are armed as war-maids, and besides the spears\nwhich hang over their shoulders, each has a short spear in her hand: they\ntake each other by the hands, and walk in a circle, singing.\n\nALL THREE.  O'er the hill, o'er the dell,\nO'er the sea's foamy waters,\nUnweariedly ply,\nValhalla, thy daughters,\nThe blood-dropping wing:\nDie, battle, and die!\nIs the bidding they bring.\n\nTHE FIRST.  Not fever's foul pains.\n\nTHE SECOND.  Not hunger.\n\nTHE THIRD.  Not chains.\n\nALL THREE.  But fight and delight.\nFor the brave ever brings,\nValhalla, thy daughters,\nBy light and by night,\nO'er the land and the waters,\nWith blood-drooping wing.\n\nTHE FIRST.  The crash of the spear,\nIn deadly career,\nIs alone to me dear.\n\nTHE SECOND.  The feeble moan press'd\nFrom the dying man's breast\nIs what pleases me best.\n\nTHE THIRD.  The cry on the plain\nRound the corse of the slain\nI list to most pain.\n\nALL THREE.  Die, battle, and die!\nO'er the hill, o'er the dell,\nO'er the sea's foamy waters,\nUnweariedly ply,\nValhalla, thy daughters,\nThe blood-dropping wing:\nDie, battle, and die,\nIs the bidding they bring.\n\nTHE FIRST.  I hear the sound of arms; but now it ceases.\nHow long will he delay, the noble warrior?\n\nTHE SECOND.  Whom wait'st thou for?\n\nTHE FIRST.  And thou? what will my sister\nIn this wild spot which blood has never crimson'd?\n\nTHE SECOND.  What has assembled us? and here where scarcely\nA sword has flashed since days of Jotun Ymer,\nWas it a god or destiny which drove us?\n\nTHE FIRST.  Thou knowest that the morning sun illumines\nTen thousand spears on Scotland's heathy mountains;\nHigh beats with joy each warrior's heart.  In silence,\nThey forward press, and only wait my on-cry.\nThither would I--but hear the strange adventure\nWhich stopp'd my flight upon these rocks.  Envelop'd\nIn a black, tempest, I a Finman follow'd,\nWho boldly climb'd the mountain summits,\nAnd sprang o'er every yawning rift undaunted:\nThen saw I Hothbrod's valiant son.  I saw him\nAs in the brook he cleans from dust his armour,\nAnd sharp'd laboriously his rusty dagger,\nAnd prov'd upon the pine's thick stem his falchion;\nThen brandish'd he his hunting-spear: far backward\nHe drew his nervous arm; I heard the weapon\nHiss, but my eye beheld it scarce a moment,\nFor like the lightning which the black clouds swallow\nIt vanished, and the heir vainly sought it.\nThen look'd I round about, and saw my Finman,\nWho held the spear and laugh'd; I storm'd with fury.\nThen down he plung'd within a midnight chasm;\nAnd from the deep uprose a voice like thunder\nWhich slowly booms among the Finnish deserts.\n\"Unarm'd,\" it bellow'd, \"shall the warrior perish?\nWither shall he of age, and deep in Haelheim\nBe hidden, far from Odin, far from Valhall.\"\nAngry, I rooted up the oaks in search of\nA spear for battle's friend--and this I fix'd on;\nI gave it tempest's speed and strength to humble\nEach warrior whom it smiteth, when with wonder\nOf thy fast sounding voice I heard an echo.\n\nTHE SECOND.  Ye stars! what sorcery!  But to me now listen!\nI hasten'd unto Hortha's gloomy forests,\nTo glut myself in Roman blood; then look'd I\nDown from the thunder-cloud in which I journey'd,\nAnd on these towering hills my eyes I fastened;\nThen saw I Denmark's Hother, prince of battle,\nLike the rock-pine, which o'er the ocean beetles;\nHe stood, and storm-winds with his locks were playing,\nThen from the brake a wolf sprang, grim and frightful,\nAnd big as Fenri's Wolf: the Skoldung saw it,\nAnd brandish'd high his spear.  Forth went it booming,\nAs booming goes from the cold North a whirlwind;\nStraight vanished wolf and spear; but deep a-forest\nWas heard as from a thousand wolves a howling.\n\"See, see,\" it howl'd, \"the Skoldung Hother loses\nHis spear, and in his hand the sword is fragile.\nNow have we peace, and Norway's Kemps may slumber.\"\nDisturb'd at such dark sorcery, I seiz'd on\nThe spear of steel thou see'st, and laid lightning\nAnd fiends' death on its point, when I beheld thee.\n\nTHE THIRD (who hitherto has stood in deep thought).  Sharp is my sight in\nwar; but here is darkness.\nBut do not think that chance and magic\nHere assembled battle's angry daughters.\nAllfather for the fight prepares; Allfather\nAssembles us with murky wink: I saw him,\nThe mighty Thor; wroth was he, and his hammer\nWas in his hand.  He stood by Gevar's dwelling:\nHe spoke to me, and soon as e'er I answer'd\nHe vanished, thundering in the eastern heavens.\nIt is not sport, nor any childish quarrel,\nBe ye assured, makes Thor descend from Asgaard.\n\nTHE FIRST.  He spake to thee?\n\nTHE THIRD.  As when the warriors slumber,\nAnd suddenly are wak'd to thousand dangers\nBy din of shields and mingled squadrons' tumult,\nSo tower'd he up and shouted when he saw me,\nAnd dread and hollow as the ocean's bellow,\nAs moan of forests in the nightly tempest,\nSounded his voice unto my ear!\n\"What, Rota!\" he shouted; Rota here!  \"Ye gods of heaven!\nWhom seekest thou, where unclomb rocks engirdle\nPeace, smiling peace?  O say! whom, sent by Skulda,\nWilt thou devote upon the stilly mountains?\nBut ah! what light had I the power to kindle?\nDark is my spirit.  The terrific Norna,\nShe who allots to time, ere it approaches,\nIt's luck, and binds it with determined fingers\nUnto Fate's will, is silent, and drives Rota\nFar from each plain belov'd where battle rages.\nYet shook the fatal spear with which conflicting\nMonarchs I greet, at sunrise thrice it trembled;\nAnd death lies heavy in my arm--that know I,\nBut for the victim.\n\nTHE FIRST.  Threatens Fate our Hother?\n\nTHE SECOND.  Thor's fear and even thine betoken danger.\n\nTHE THIRD.  So seems it.  Ah! if it concern'd our Hother!\nYe mind full well how high the Danish hero\nI ever lov'd--I saw him by a fountain,\nDejected, weaponless, and half in slumber;\nBut deep into the forest fled the savage,\nFrom whom he took his sword, the sharp-edged Mimer,\nAnd Hother's spear in his rude hands he carried.\n\"Retain my falchion, thou ferocious warrior!\nLittle in conflict shall it e'er avail thee!\"\nSo shouted he, and all the rocks resounded.\nThen straight I brought my choicest spear from Valhall--\nLong since I cut it from a lonely wild beech,\nWhich, hid from day, grew up in Lapland's deserts;\nA circle of grey stones stood round about it,\nOn each was clotted blood, and bones, and ashes;\nBlood as I cut the spear the stem emitted--\nIt crushes stone, and steel, and giants' armour.\n\nHOTHER, THE OTHERS.\n\nHOTHER (he is armed, but without a spear).  Where is this prince of\nbeauty, Nanna's half-god?\n\n[He starts slightly upon perceiving the VALKYRIER.  They advance towards\nhim, hand in hand.\n\nExcuse me my astonishment, fair war-maids!\n\nTHE FIRST.  Hail to thee dauntless warrior, bane of Gelder!\n\nTHE SECOND.  Hail to thee, Skoldung, valiant son of Hothbrod!\n\nTHE THIRD.  Hail, hail to thee, my Hother, Leire's ruler!\n\nHOTHER (astonished.)  Ye know me!\n\nTHE THIRD.  Yes, thou noble youth, and love thee!\n\nHOTHER.  Your goodness overwhelms me--to what godhead\nStand I indebted for this lucky meeting?\n\nTHE FIRST.  I bring to thee a spear to fight with heroes!\n\nTHE SECOND.  And this, I hand to thee, can slaughter demons!\n\nTHE THIRD.  This spear is excellent in fight with Jotuns.\n\nHOTHER.  How shall I e'er repay these costly presents?\n\nTHE FIRST.  Be valiant! fight! send battle's sons to Valhall!\n\nTHE SECOND.  Extend the Danish sway and Odin's worship!\n\nTHE THIRD.  The sire of many warlike kings of Leire!\n\n[They vanish.\n\nHOTHER.  There's nought but sorcery upon these mountains!\nThey've vanished!  Do I dream to-day?  Where am I?\nSight, feeling, reason are alike enchanted!\nBut here, ye gods! here in my bosom rages\nThe magic--Vanfred's poison.  Nanna, Nanna!\nShall I mistrust thee, then--shall I, thy Hother?\n\n[He places the two spears against a tree, whereon he hangs his shield.\nThat which the first VALKYRIER gave him he retains in his hand.\n\nThe fire which love enkindles\nFirst warms with bliss the heart,\nBut soon, ah! soon the traitor\nAwaketh burning smart!\nLove's flame at first discloses\nPure innocence alone;\nBut quickly by its splendour\nA deed of guilt is shown.\nO love! thy bliss is vanish'd,\nThy flame extinguish quite,\nFor in my bride black falsehood\nNow only meets my sight.\n\nNANNA, HOTHER.\n\nNANNA (who has stood at the entrance of the scene, and has heard the\nlatter part of Hother's song).  I overheard thee, weak, ignoble Hother!\n\nHOTHER.  Ah yes, weak! credulous!\n\nNANNA.  Save thyself repentance!\n\nHOTHER.  Where is thy demigod?\n\nNANNA.  This bosom, Hother, acquitteth me;\nThat were enough for Nanna, if--\n\nHOTHER.  Oh, pray, proceed!\n\nNANNA (affectionately).  Lov'd less--\n\nHOTHER (contemptuously).  Whom?  Balder?\n\nNANNA.  Savage! what fiend has pour'd into thy bosom\nHis bane of late?  Ha! fly from me: detest me!\nWilt thou love her thou canst mistrust!\n\nHOTHER.  Ah, Nanna!\n\nNANNA.  I have debas'd myself to excusation\n(Virtue from that, O Hother, ever shrinketh);\nYet trust'st thou not?--one's wont to trust the lov'd one!\nThou know'st (I told it thee before) that Gevar,\nThy wise instructor, has declar'd that Heaven\nThreatens a bloody, horrible misfortune,\nIn case our love be nois'd about in Asgaard,\nEre certain stars shall stand in other orbits;\nAnd canst thou wonder when so great an Asa\nAs Odin's Balder cometh unexpected,\nThat I all trembling will conceal--\n\nHOTHER.  Ha, trembling!\nMy curse upon the slave who first invented\nA word which ne'er my Nanna's lips should sully;\nThy excusations kill me!  I imagined\nIt was a chaste, a maidenish reflection,\nThat made my Nanna blush at our affection:\nUnmurmuring I obeyed, and kept in secret.\nWhy hast thou ta'en from me that sweet delusion?\nWhy spak'st thou not, and say for whom thou tremblest?\nFor Balder's death?  Thou lovest then thy half-god.\nBut no, ye gods!  No, I believe thee, Nanna!\nIt is for mine, for Hother's death, thou fearest.\nThen think'st thou me so weak, so wholly powerless,\nAnd lov'st me still?  When e'er lov'd maids the dastard?\n\nNANNA.  'Tis no disgrace to quake before a half-god!\n\nHOTHER. 'Fore Odin's self mere cowards quake.  Now hear me!\nI--I, or Balder, die to-day!\n\nNANNA.  O Hother!\nI came to quarrel, came prepar'd with anger;\nBut ah, in burning tears it soon has melted.\nThou die, or Balder! he--a half-god!\n\nHOTHER.  Nanna!\nThy tears insult me sore, and yet--I know not--\nThey gladden me--they torture--they enchant me.\nI love them--I excuse them--I--I know not--\nO tear--sweet, bitter tear, desist from flowing!\nThou showest tenderness--but ah! betrayest\nMistrust and slight respect!--ah, love thy Hother,\nBut oh! believe, he will deserve thee, Nanna:\nThy heart is far too noble for the coward\nWho beareth shield and sword and yet can tremble.\n\nHOTHER.  The slave only feareth.\n\nNANNA.  The hero can fall!\n\nHOTHER.  Ah then his fame cheereth\nHis bride in her thrall.\n\nNANNA.  Ah then his bride weeps!\n\nHOTHER.  She's honour'd.\n\nNANNA.  She weepeth!\n\nHOTHER.  She's honour'd.\n\nNANNA.  And weepeth.\n\nHOTHER.  Ah, then his fame cheereth\nHis bride in her thrall.\n\nBOTH.  Ah then his fame cheereth\nHis bride in her thrall.\n\nNANNA.  Ah, if thou now fallest?\n\nHOTHER.  And if I now fall?\n\nNANNA.  Then I shall be wasted\nBy ne'er-ceasing smart.\n\nHOTHER.  But were my fame blasted\nThen break would thy heart.\n\nNANNA.  Oh! what is remaining?\n\nHOTHER.  My valour's proud story.\n\nNANNA.  Mere grief and complaining!\n\nHOTHER.  My name is thy glory.\n\nNANNA.  Oh! if thou now fallest.\n\nHOTHER.  And if I now fall,\n\nNANNA.  Then I shall be wasted\nWith grief and complaining!\n\nHOTHER.  My name is remaining;\nBut honour once blasted\nWe both should lose all.\n\nBOTH.  The slave only feareth,\nThe hero can fall;\nBut then his fame cheereth\nHis bride in her thrall.\n\nNANNA (with a terrified look, she seizes HOTHER by the arm, upon\nperceiving BALDER).  Ah!  Hother, come.\n\nBALDER, HOTHER, NANNA.\n\nBALDER.  Dost fly me, cruel Nanna!\nAm I so frightful? how have I offended?\n\nHOTHER (will rush towards BALDER, but NANNA makes every effort to prevent\nhim).  Ha, Balder, we have met at last.\n\nNANNA (much agitated).  My Hother!\nAh, if thou lovest me--if thou respectest my prayer--\n\nBALDER.  Thy Hother?  O, ye gods! how bitter!\n\nHOTHER.  To thee, perhaps to me 'tis sweet and grateful!\n\nBALDER (with majesty).  Presumptuous one!\n\nNANNA (casts herself in her anguish nearly at HOTHER'S feet, who is about\nto lay hands on BALDER).  If thou hast ever lov'd me,\nCome with me, Hother! come unto my father!\n\nHOTHER.  What! shall I fly?\n\nNANNA.  Do thou whate'er thou pleasest!\nThou wouldst not have me perish in the forest,\nThou wouldst not, sure, that I should be a witness--\n\nBALDER.  Ha, Nanna! fly not from me!\n\nHOTHER (to BALDER).  Thou commandest,\nI say she shall fly from thee.  (To NANNA)  Come, my Nanna!\n(To BALDER).  But do not thou despair! nor yet imagine\nThou wilt have long to wait, if wait thou darest.\n\n[HOTHER and NANNA exeunt.\n\nBALDER.  Ha! wherefore crush'd I not to earth the brawler?\nBut Nanna loves him--and shall Balder render\nNanna unhappy, cause despair to enter\nHer breast, and dim with tears her eyes' effulgence?\nAnd what is his offence, the noble hero?\nHe loves--ha, who can gaze upon thy beauties\nAnd love thee not, proud maiden?  But he braves me!\nAh! he is young and fortunate, and if I\nHad slain him now, 'twas Nanna's love I punish'd,\nAnd not his insolence; and, O my bosom!\nShall thy pure flame dishonour thee?  No, Balder!\nLove on and die, but of thyself be worthy!\nHa, let me lose my life and all, Allfather!\nAnd Nanna e'en!  Yes, let me lose e'en Nanna!\nBut not the virtue she herself doth honour!\n\n[He hangs his shield upon a tree, which is opposite to that where\nHother's hangs, and sets his spear up against it.\n\nTrue bliss, through virtue only known,\nBy virtue's self deserv'd alone.\nOnly for thee doth Balder sigh:\nMy sad heart would a heaven disdain\nWhich through dishonour it must gain.\nSo dear let slaves enjoyment buy!\nYes, Balder, worthy of thyself continue!\nCanst thou wish Nanna to abandon Hother?\nWish her whose virtue thy high soul so worships\nShould weak and base become for thy advantage?\nBut--does she love him? has he won her promise?\nWho knoweth but she merely has dissembled,\nAnd shown a fictious flame to prove thee, Balder!\nTransporting dream!\n\nNANNA, BALDER.\n\nNANNA (rushes in, terrified).  Ha!  Balder if thou lovest--Ah, if thou--\n\nBALDER (casts himself at NANNA'S feet).  Heavens,\nNanna! canst thou doubt it?\nI burn, I burn!\n\n[Whilst NANNA in her terror makes every effort to raise him, they come\ninto a familiar attitude, in which HOTHER, who has slain bears, and who\nis wiping the blood from his spear at the moment he appears, perceives\nthem.  He starts, and remains standing among the trees, so that he cannot\nhear what they say.\n\nNANNA.  Oh, rescue then my Hother!\nTwo savage bears among the bushes yonder\nAttack'd him; if thou hast love for virtue,\nAssist him quick; if thou delayest a moment,\nThe noblest heart that ever beat they'll mangle!\nOh! quick: bethink thee not!\n\nBALDER.  No, cruel Nanna!\nFear not!  My arm shall rescue him thou lovest!\n\n[Just as he is about to rise HOTHER steps forward.\n\nHOTHER, THE LAST.\n\nHOTHER.  Ye heavens! do I dream!  Enamour'd half-god!\nExcuse me for disturbing thee!\n\nBALDER (as he rises up).  There is he!\n\nNANNA (goes tenderly to meet HOTHER).  Ah, Hother!  Ah, my Hother!\n\nHOTHER (pushes her back with his hand).  Go, false woman!\n\nBALDER.  Gods, how unthankful art thou--how ferocious!\nCan such a bear of Nanna be deserving?\n\nHOTHER (takes his shield down from the tree).  Now, pay for all, and end\nthy prate in Valhall!\n\nNANNA.  Savage, thou mean'st not sure--\n\nHOTHER.  Beware thee, Nanna!\n\nNANNA.  Oh, hear me--\n\nHOTHER.  I have seen.  Go, hide thee, false one!\n\nNANNA.  Thou wilt not sure--\n\nHOTHER.  I will!  And now, by Hothbrod,\nHe dieth by my hand!\n\nBALDER.  Presumptuous mortal!\n\nHOTHER.  Thy shield! thy spear!  I hate all vaunt, my half-god.\n\nNANNA (rushes towards BALDER, who taketh his weapons).  O Balder! noble\nBalder!\n\nBALDER.  Ah, poor Nanna!\nThou see'st he forces me--that death he beggeth!\n\nHOTHER.  Ha! this is all too much.  Protect him--hide him!\nCover thy gallant with thy faithless bosom!\nI will not slay thee; but my oath is uttered,\nThat he or I shall fall!  And now!\n\n[He turns the point of his spear against himself.\n\nNANNA.  Ah, Hother!\nWhat doest thou?\n\nHOTHER.  I've sworn!\n\nNANNA.  Hold, hold, thou savage!\nI go--I fly.  Oh help, ye gods of heaven!\n\n[She goes away in a kind of distraction, but she remains standing at the\nentrance of the scene, where she with fearful curiosity looks on and off\nthe combatants.  The warriors go in circle with uplifted spears.\n\nHOTHER.  Now, valiant Balder, call upon thy father!\n\nBALDER.  Shame on thee, Hother!  Thou offendest Nanna.\n\nHOTHER.  Prat'st still, my hero?\n\nBALDER.  Well--thou wilt?\n\nHOTHER.  Ha, Hothbrod!\n\n[He casts the spear which he had received from the first VALKYRIER, and\nhad retained in his hand.  It striketh BALDER, but falls, without taking\nany effect, at his feet.  BALDER in return casts his spear into his left\nhand, and tears down a huge piece of the neighbouring rock.\n\nNANNA.  Ye gods of Gevar!\n\nBALDER.  Nanna!\n\n[He casts his spear behind him out of the scene.\n\nNANNA.  Noble being!\n\nHOTHER.  Ha! darest thou mock me, thou inflated braggart?\n\n[He takes from the tree the spear which the Valkyrier, ROTA, gave him,\nand casts it.  It strikes so hard against BALDER'S breast, that he nearly\nsinks upon his knee; but it nevertheless falls to the ground without\nwounding him.\n\nBALDER.  Ha!  Surtur, ha!  Was that the fell destroyer?\nFly from my fury!\n\nHOTHER.  Cool its heat in Valhall!\n\n[He casts the last spear, which he has seized in the meantime, but, like\nthe first, without any apparent effect.\n\nBALDER (as he draws his sword).  Now, then, presumptuous?\n\nHOTHER (as he likewise draws).  Demon! and no half-god!\nThou blunt'st the spear; but here's a sword remaining!\nNow, Hothbrod!\n\n[He strikes at him with his utmost force, but the sword reboundeth from\nthe helm of BALDER.\n\nBALDER.  Odin!\n\n[He strikes HOTHER'S sword from his hand, so that it flies into pieces,\nseizes him by the arm, and sets his sword against his breast.  HOTHER\nsinks upon his knee beneath the powerful grasp, but raises himself\nimmediately, without BALDER'S attempting to hinder him but he retains him\nso in his power that he cannot move himself.  NANNA rushes in and casts\nherself down upon her knee before BALDER.\n\nNANNA.  Generous, noble Balder!\n\nBALDER.  Take up thy bride and live!\n\nHOTHER.  My life detest I,\nI would not give the smallest hair of Nanna,\nFor yet a thousand years thy whole godship!\n\nBALDER.  Die, then!\n\n[He lifts his sword like one who will strike.\n\nHOTHER.  Why dost delay?\n\nNANNA.  Ha! here thou savage!\nHere, strike into this breast and spare my bridegroom.\n\n[BALDER lets his sword sink.\n\nHOTHER.  Still, still, thou lovest me?  Oh, Nanna!  Nanna!\nThere see'st thou, fiend, she loveth me!\n\nBALDER.  Ah, torment!\nHa!  I can end thee!  [He lifts his sword again.\n\nNANNA.  Let my tears prevent thee!\n\nHOTHER.  By heavens! she's mocking thee!  If thou delayest,\nShe'll laugh full at thee in the arms of Hother.\n\nNANNA.  Believe him not, but virtue--thine own bosom!\n\nBALDER (sheathing his sword).  Live, Hother! live!\n\nHOTHER.  Ha! have I begged for mercy?\n\nBALDER.  No!  Live; forget our strife, thou dauntless warrior!\nEmbrace thy friend, and be, as erst, unshackled!\n\nHOTHER.  Ha! cruel, proud, and all too noble en'my!\nThou know'st, thou feelest but too well thy triumph!\nHa! thou hast overcome, hast humbled Hother!\nAnd think'st thou he can live?  Heard, heard has heaven\nMy oath, that I or Balder die!\n\n[He grasps his dagger, and is about to stab himself with it, but BALDER\nwrests it out of his hand.\n\nBALDER.  Bethink thee!\n\nHOTHER.  Ye heavens!  Hother! ah! how art thou fallen!\n\nNANNA (affectionately).  My Hother!\n\nHOTHER.  Ah! farewell for ever, Nanna!\n\n[He goes hastily away.  NANNA attempts to follow him, but BALDER detains\nher.\n\nNANNA, BALDER.\n\nNANNA.  Woe's me! he will destroy himself.\n\nBALDER.  By Odin!\nHe shall not!  Be composed! believe, I've power\nTo hinder it!  Believe thy Balder, Nanna!\n\nNANNA (she takes with fervour his hand and bends herself for some time\nover it).  I do believe thee, noble one, I know thee!\nI feel all thy exaltedness.  Thy virtues\nI hold in reverence.  Oh! that all my friendship,\nThat these hot tears were able to reward thee!\n\nBALDER (casts himself upon his knees before her).  Oh glimpse!  Oh wave\nof hope, in which I'm drowning!\n\nNANNA (agitated).  What hopest thou?\n\nBALDER.  Let not thy lips, oh Nanna\nAwaken Balder from his dream of rapture;\nLet him enjoy it; let him read his destiny,\nHis hope, his life, in yonder precious tear-drops.\n\nNANNA.  Ah, what avails it 'gainst one's fate to struggle?\nMy heart can ne'er of Balder be deserving.\n\nBALDER.  Ah, that I but--\n\nNANNA.  Excuse me now; thou knowest\nI've--Ah! a miserable friend to comfort.\n\n[She tears herself away from him, gives a friendly look and goes.  He\nfollows her for some time with his eyes.\n\nBALDER.  Yet will I hope!  Hear, hear ye rocks! that Balder\nVentures to hope!--stern fate is now contented!\nBlunted is Surtur's spear, and Nanna wavers!\nOh virtue! which, when blood rag'd high didst triumph,\nHow sure, how nobly thou reward'st thy lover!\nYe rocks which so lately gave ear to my groans,\nNow hear of my hope and my gladness the tones,\nAnd reply ye proud woods that no longer seem drear;\nIn vain fate and heaven, oh Balder, have cas'd,\nWith vigour the bosom thou lovest, and placed\nIn the hand of the hero the sorcerer's spear.\nOh virtue! thou still dost thy servant befriend;\nYe echoes the triumph of true love extend,\nAnd virtue's fair guerdon proclaim far and near.\n\nTHOR, BALDER.\n\nTHOR.  Boldly resounds thy song, thou friend of battle!\nSo bluster from the hero's lips the bloody\nHard-gotten vict'ries, and the slain foes' praises,\nWhilst he surveys the lonely field of slaughter,\nThou smilest, pleasure from thine eye is flashing,\nLike Odin's, when he freed the earth from danger\nBy watering it with blood of savage giants.\n\nBALDER.  Ha, friend! press thou thy breast unto this bosom,\nAnd feel what lip but feebly can interpret,\nFeel heaven's rapture in my soul!\n\nTHOR.  Thou ravest!\n\nBALDER.  Ah!  Nanna, friend!--\n\nTHOR.  Ha! now I understand thee.\nAnd well it is, full well, that Odin's Balder\nAt length by tears has soften'd Gevar's daughter!\nThis triumph--\n\nBALDER.  Thou art mocking!\n\nTHOR.  No, thy vict'ry\nShall to me be as one of my most prais'd ones,\nAs that I won from Nagaard's gloomy demon!\nHa! it is great!  It takes from me and Odin\nThe dastard fear which has too long tormented\nOur bosoms.  I no more thine ear shall weary\nWith vain advice.  Enough! the maiden loveth.\n\nBALDER.  She loveth--yes, by Hael! she loveth Hother.\n\nTHOR.  Ha!  Balder, dost thou mock me?  Whom?  What Hother?\n\nBALDER.  Hast Thor forgotten then the valiant Leir-King?\n\nTHOR (in thought).  No!--by my hammer, no!--I saw him battle\nAt Rolf, the Daneman's festival; I saw him,\nStrong in his arm.\n\nBALDER.  But yet it lost the falchion.\n\nTHOR (yet in thought).  Before his spear the copper hauberk yielded\nLike softest wax.  Shall he--But scarce a mortal\nAvails thereto--But then if fate--\n\nBALDER.  Banish, oh banish,\nThese murky thoughts, oh Thor! and share my pleasure.\n\nTHOR.  Thy pleasure!  Do I dream?  Loves Nanna, Hother?\n\nBALDER.  Ay, doth she!\n\nTHOR.  That rejoices thee?  Thou ravest.\n\nBALDER.  Ah hear!--my joy thou wilt thyself approve of.\n\nTHOR (after some reflection).  Now, noble one, I understand: embrace me--\nThy vict'ry's worthy thee--and me--and Odin.\nOn Gevar's rocks I will myself engrave it.\nOh! not a weak, soft-hearted maid, but Balder,\nBut thee, my friend--the monster in thy bosom,\nThy love, thy foolish love, thou overcamest.\n\nBALDER.  Ah, hush thee, cruel one!  I feel I'm blushing.\nKnow, I had never o'er my heart less power.\nI burn, and tremble at the thought of seeing\nThe flame put out by which I am tormented.\n\nTHOR.  What do I hear?  Ye heavens! can an Asa\nLose virtue thus, and all--well, quaff thy pleasure!\nAnd rave and dote!  Thou lov'st and art rejected?\nHow pleasurably!  By my arm, I'm thinking\nThe Valkyrie has touch'd thy skull already,\nThou ravest so--I see thy fate is hastening.\n\nBALDER.  My fate's first law is love.\n\nTHOR.  Alas, the second\nIs death!\n\nBALDER.  And where's the battle? where's the slayer?\n\nTHOR.  The slayer?  Hother.\n\nBALDER.  Weaponless, despairing,\nHe wanders 'mong the rocks.  We fought.\n\nTHOR.  He liveth?\n\nBALDER.  Ah, Nanna wept.\n\nTHOR.  Curst tears! the blood of Asa\nFor ye must pay!\n\nBALDER.  And friend, had he the power,\nThink'st thou that Hother, that the Skiolding basely\nWould murder him to whom his life he oweth?\n\nTHOR.  Not so would he.  But if he must, what can he\n'Gainst destiny, if she the death-spear hands him,\nAnd guides herself his arm?\n\nBALDER.  Oh, banish, banish\nThy timid care, and hear and share my transport;\nJust now, as Hother's life I spar'd there glitter'd,\nThrough Nanna's tears the first, first glimpse of pity;\nSweetly she smil'd, and granting me her friendship,\nShe press'd my hand with loving warmth.\n\nTHOR.  Ha! vex not\nMine ear, I pray thee, with thy follies--little\nIs Asa Thor with dastard love acquainted;\nYet can I see into her heart.  She thanks thee\nFor Hother's life: that gives thee joy?  Thou dreamest.\n\nBALDER.  My life's the dream thou dost aspire to scatter.\n\nTHOR.  It is thy death!\n\nBALDER.  What death?  See fate accomplished!\nBehold this spear which late the Leir-King brandish'd!\nMy knee grew weak: I stagger'd when it struck me;\nYet still I live, and it to earth fell blunted.\n\nTHOR (Whilst he surveys the spear).  Do not deceive thyself, this spear\nwas harden'd\nIn flames celestial, not in Nastroud's blazes.\nBut death has greeted Odin's son, and Rota,\nShe who invites the hero-kings to Valhall,\nIs here, where never din of arms resounded.\nWith terror view'd I battle's haughty daughter:\nDark stood she on a rock, enveiled in vapour;\nAnd on her shoulder, on her steel-cas'd shoulder,\nThe bird of death, the mournful owl, sat croaking.\nWhom seeks she, far from every bloody Champain?\nAnd Surtur's branch, how soon is that discover'd,\nIf fate but wish!  And think'st thou Loke slumbers?\nAh, Balder fly! forget a foolish passion!\nFly, ere thy fate, which hasteneth, is accomplish'd.\nFollow me straight!\n\nBALDER.  What--fly! and give up Nanna!\nThe hope in which I live is far too noble\nFor me to fly from it.\n\nTHOR.  O Balder, hear me!\nHear why I come, and if thou wish'st for rescue,\nThen heed a friend's, a father's last, last warning!\nWondering at thy infatuation, troubled\nBy threatening, now no longer dark forebodings,\nBy panic seiz'd, press'd by unwonted sadness,\nI left these hills, and thunder-peals announced me\nIn Asgaard, every eye my trouble notic'd;\nStraightway around me stream'd the eldest Aser,\nEach first would know, what grief, or rather terror,\nPress'd down my eye.  But straight Allfather made me\nA sign: he blushes, Balder, at thy weakness!\nHe bade me keep it, whilst we could, a secret,\nAnd question first once more the ancient Mimer.\nI question'd him, and murky fate's explorer\nThus answer'd: \"If the sun (ah, hear and tremble,\nAnd save thee, whilst thou canst!) if it to-morrow,\nWhen by its glories yonder hills are brighten'd,\nWhich oft have echoed back the half-god's wailings,\nBehold him yet in love and yet rejected,\nThen likewise it beholds the spear which slays him,\nAnd Odin's tears and all the Aser's sorrow!\"\n\nBALDER.  Time presses, then.  Excuse me, Thor; I hasten\nWith tears to soften Nanna's noble bosom,\nTo move her with my prayer, and, lowly kneeling,\nMy doom demand, be't life or death; for quickly\nShall Balder's fate disclose itself.  [He goes.\n\nTHOR (whilst he looks after him with compassion).  Ah, madman!\nHeadlong thou hurriest to meet destruction!\n\n\n\n\nACT THE THIRD.\n\n\nIt is dark night.  The storm howls among the rocks.  Sometimes it\nlightens and thunders, and the bears bellow here and there in the forest.\n\nHOTHER (sitting upon a rock unarmed and in a dejected attitude).\n\n   The rocks are reeling,\n   When storms are roaring,\n   And thunders pealing,\n   I feel no fright!\n   What I'm enduring\n   Is wilder, stranger\n   Than thunder's anger\n   Or tempests might.\n\nWelcome, thou night!  O darkness thick! how friendly,\nCompassionately hid'st thou me from Hother!\nFrom him, the weak, the overcome, the fallen!\nCome, then, embrace me, Hoe;theim's murky princess!\nWith all thy horrors dark, thou foe of gladness!\nAh, come! conceal the feeble, shiver'd weapon!\nCover the gloomy rock where I-- Ha! thunder\nAnnihilate thee, accursed thought, that darest\nDisturb the Skoldung where to rest he's flung him!\nBut I may breathe it to the night, and Hoe;theim\nI may entrust with Hother's ignominy.\nHa! hear it, night! and in thy depths conceal it!\nThere is a rock--a gloomy one--a horrid,\nFor ugly demons swarm upon its summit,\nAnd dragons nestle in its murky caverns:\nThere did I fall, and with me fell my honour.\nThere knelt I powerless, and my life accepted!\nNow am I calm, for I no more behold it;\nNor yet behold the proud, the noble foeman,\nNor yet my Nanna's cheek, o'erspread with blushes;\nNor yet the burning, hated tears which rescued,\nWhich purchased Hother from triumphant Balder!\nHa! storm, thou sinkest!  Howl and whoop around me!\nPeal, thunders, peal! and drown the cruel echo\nOf dastard prayer, of Nanna's intercession!\n\n   Life of my Nanna,\n   Thy breath doth kill,\n   Its sweet lamenting,\n   One stroke preventing,\n   With many, with many\n   This breast doth fill.\n\nThou lovest me!  Ha! weak, enamour'd Nanna!\nThou lovest Hother's life, but not thy Hother.\nHow cold, how cruel to his name, his honour!\nBut I--I too was cruel!  I accus'd thee--\nBeloved Nanna, at thy feet full quickly\nHother's best blood shall wash away that insult!\n\n[He springs up and walks about the scene.\n\nWhy do I slumber?  Why delay a moment\nTo keep my oath?  Ha, cruel, cruel destiny!\nE'en death itself thou dost refuse to Hother,\nFor every sword and precipice thou hidest;\nHa, feeble spear! whereon I, fool-like, trusted,\nWhere art thou now? and thou my fragile Mimring\nNe'er frail in fight before; and thou my dagger--\n\n[He stumbles over the horn which he cast away in the first act.\n\nWhat, what is this?  By Hal, the horn which Vanfred\nGave me wherewith in time of need to call him.\nHa! by the gods, was ever need so horrid,\nTo crave to die, yet want the power of dying;\nFriendship so warm as his will never surely\nRefuse a dagger to this breast.\n\n[He winds the horn, which echoes frightfully among the rocks.\n\nHa, Vanfred!\nI call thee now; where art thou, Vanfred?  Vanfred!\n\n[A whirlwind is heard, and LOKE immediately appears.\n\nLOKE, HOTHER.\n\nLOKE.  Hail, hail to thee, most fortunate of heroes!\n\nHOTHER.  Ha! darest thou mock Hother?\n\nLOKE.  What disturbeth\nA fortune which thy foe himself, which Skulda,\nWhich heavenly and subterranean powers\nEstablish with united strength?\n\nHOTHER.  Old dreamer!\nLend me a spear, and better right hand shall\nEstablish it than all the powers thou namest!\n\nLOKE.  I know thy state of mind and wretched project.\nBy Nastroud, that worst of fools, if Balder\nHad not thine eyes with Asa magic blinded,\nAnd hid each dagger, each abyss thou soughtest,\nEre now in mist thou'dst unreveng'd been lying!\n\nHOTHER.  What, has he hindered me, the noble, proud one!\n\nLOKE.  Yes, proud; for he despises thee.\n\nHOTHER.  Despises!\n\nLOKE.  And think'st thou he for sake of pleasing Nanna\nWould e'er have deign'd to guard thee from destruction,\nIf he had much regarded Hother's anger,\nAnd if thy love one grain of sand he heeded?\n\nHOTHER.  Bad art thou, Vanfred; all thy words are poison'd.\n\nLOKE (incensed).  Ha!  Hother, thou reward'st in evil fashion\nThe friendship and the happiness I bring thee.\n\nHOTHER.  What happiness?\n\nLOKE.  But come, thy misery sours thee;\nKnow, I can straight assuage it!\n\nHOTHER.  And delayest.\n\nLOKE.  Know then at once, thou lucky son of Hothbrod,\nThe spear which sendeth Balder's soul to Haelheim.\n\nHOTHER.  A spear, a spear! 'tis all I--\n\nLOKE.  Is discover'd!\nI knew, for I had read it in the planets,\nValhalla's battle-loving maids must seek for\nThe ne'er seen weapon, and prepare for slaughter\nIts deadly point, and I--yes, I--seduc'd them,\nThe haughty three, to seek the spear.\n\nHOTHER.  Seduc'd them?\n\nLOKE.  And dost thou think they wish the death of Balder?\n\nHOTHER.  Ha, Vanfred! more.\n\nLOKE.  At first thou hadst not the right one;\nThy combat, friend, prov'd that.  Near then had\nBalder crush'd thee and my design.  Aghast I saw him\nBrandish the Jotun's bane--I'm well acquainted\nWith Balder's strength; but ha! the fool prov'd tender;\nHe saw thy bride, and spar'd thee.  Then up mounted\nMy courage and thine own.\n\nHOTHER (to himself).  I blush: my courage!\n(To LOKE).  What, courage!  I was raging--blind with fury!\n\nLOKE.  Courage of fury--I, by Hael, care little,\nMy youthful hero, which thine eyeball gleams with,\nIf thou seek vengence, and thine enemy falleth.\n\nHOTHER.  Who art thou--who?  But speak; proceed; explain thee!\n\nLOKE.  Strong was thine arm, and strong 'gainst Jotun's armour\nWas Rota's lance, but all too weak 'gainst Balder;\nAnd yet he kneel'd; I saw the proud one palen.\nBut ha! he rear'd himself; my heart then fail'd me,\nFor I could best appreciate thy full danger;\nRaised was his arm; bright appear'd the massive falchion;\nHe called on Odin's name, and then none living\nCould save thee but himself--the fool! his lofty\nCourage shall prove his overthrow.\n\nHOTHER.  Ha, Vanfred!\n\nLOKE.  Well?\n\nHOTHER.  I do admire more and more thy wisdom.\nBut whilst we fought, where were the maids of battle?\n\nLOKE.  They were my dread; I quak'd at every shadow\nAnd every leaf that mov'd, lest I should see them.\nWhen I saw that no one of the sisters\nHeard the high call, and din of shield and falchion,\nMy courage rose--I knew thou wast in safety:\nThey hear no fight where no one's doomed to perish.\n\nHOTHER.  And now the spear thou spak'st about?\n\nLOKE.  She has it,\nValfather's favour'd maid--his trusty servant,\nAt length discover'd by unwearied searching\nThe spear by which his much-lov'd son shall perish.\nShortly ere thou didst call, as in my cavern\nI sat, its vaulted roof begun to tremble.\nThree times my stilly dwelling shook, and o'er me\nA sound assailed my ear; 'twas like the tempest's\nWhen it uptears the mountain oak; then heard I\nThe voice of Rota; black huge drops did trickle\nOf Jotun blood, of them whom Odin slaughtered,\nThrough the rock's rifts.  I knew by all these signals\nThat she had found the right, the fatal weapon.\n\nHOTHER (impatiently).  Where is it--where?\n\nLOKE.  She hardens it in Nastroud.\n\nHOTHER.  Peace, dreamer!  Go!\n\nLOKE.  I see this heat with pleasure,\nAnd to extinguish all thy doubts, I'll show thee--\nIf thou dare see her--the terrific Rota.\n\nHOTHER.  What, Vanfred! if I dare?\n\nLOKE.  Enough!  Look westward!\n\n[He touches HOTHER'S eyelids.  Immediately is seen the entrance of a vast\ncavern, which is only illumined by the flames which, with a continual\nroaring, now sinking, now rising, appear in its deepest part.  At the\nentrance, on each side, is a little round altar.  On the one a flame is\nburning in which lies the fatal spear.  On the other stands a caldron.\nThe VALKYRIER move in a circle round the first.\n\nTHE THREE VALKRIER.\n\nTHE FIRST.  Flames of Nastroud\nBlaze away!\nThe deepmost deeps feel\nValhall's May.\n\nTHE SECOND.  Flames whose roaring\nWith dismay\nE'en Asa hears,\nFate's voice obey.\n\nROTA.  Poisonous blazes\nHarden a spear\nFor Valhall's May!\n\nALL THREE.  Poisonous blazes\nHarden a spear\nFor Valhall's May.\n\nROTA.  Whom it woundeth\nIt shall slay.\n\nTHE FIRST.  Whom it woundeth\nIt shall slay.\n\nTHE SECOND.  Whom it woundeth\nIt shall slay.\n\nALL THREE.  Whom it woundeth\nIt shall slay.\n\nROTA (takes the spear from the fire and goes towards the other altar).\nEnough, enough!  Now will we in the caldron\nCool its red point--now backward turns the circle,\nAnd as we turn, the life of him turns backward\nWhom the spear smites; as quench'd are Nastroud's sparkles\nVanish shall the life of him it woundeth.\n\n[She retains the spear in her hand, and all three march round the\ncaldron.\n\nALL THREE.  In juice of rue,\nAnd trefoil too;\nIn marrow of bear\nAnd blood of Trold,\nBe cool'd the spear,\nThree times cool'd,\nWhen not from blazes\nWhich Nastroud raises\nFor Valhall's May.\n\nROTA (she dips it in, and then immediately gives it to the first\nVALKYRIE, who does the same, and then hands it to the second, likewise\ndips it in the caldron; meanwhile they sing:)\n\nTHE FIRST.  Whom it woundeth\nIt shall slay.\n\nTHE SECOND.  Whom it woundeth\nIt shall slay.\n\nALL THREE.  Whom it woundeth\nIt shall slay.\n\n[ROTA takes the spear.  The VALKYRIER and the cavern disappear.  The\nscene appears the same as in the first of this act.  The tempest still\ncontinues to rage.\n\nHOTHER.  Evanished! sunken! sorcery surroundeth\nMy every step, and ties the arm of Hother.\nFool that I am! the moon will soon break over\nGevar's high rocks; and I, by Hothbrod's ashes,\nLike one who fearfully will prolong existence,\nI'm paying heed to phantoms.  Vanfred!  Vanfred!\nFiend, who didst vow me friendship I detested!\nSay, where is now the spear which kills for certain?\n\nLOKE.  Thou saw'st it.\n\nHOTHER.  Ha!  I saw!  I saw!  Where is it?\n\nLOKE.  Do I not know that Odin's maids prepar'd it\nOnly for thee, that fate will only suffer\nThine arm in Balder's heart to thrust it?\n\nHOTHER.  Lately\nThou saidst, think'st thou they wish the death of Balder?\nBut now against him they the weapon harden;\nNow Valhall's maidens hate the noble half-god.\nHence with thy contradictions, false deceiver!\n\nLOKE.  I have already said that I seduced them;\nMy subtlety, not they, the spear has harden'd.\n\nHOTHER.  Good now! thy subtlety! how nobly Hother\nPasses the night!  Proceed with thy narration.\n\nLOKE.  Then hear.  Thou dost remember Rota's present.\nThe spear which set the haughty half-god kneeling,\nThat shiver'd I, and brought it unto Rota.\nI borrowed Tyr's, the Asa's dress and figure.\n\"Behold,\" I cried, \"thy spear, thou crafty Rota!\nLate at a Jotun's foot I found it lying,\nSent from the Leir-King's hand; it still was buzzing,\nFor strong is Hother's arm; I knew the weapon,\nAnd I, who trusted in thy art, I shouted.\nNow ill it stands with yonder mountain Jotun;\nBut loud he laugh'd, and straight the lance upsnatching,\nHe shiver'd it, and here, O crafty Rota!\nHere bring I back to thee the precious fragments!\"\nWith joy I saw her eyes with fury flashing,\nShe swore by Odin's arm, by all the powers,\nAnd by the highest Godhead--by Allfather,\nRestless to search till she a spear discover'd\nWith power to slay the strongest son of Ymer,\nAnd all who could be slain.  She swore and vanished.\nThen seem'd it--then, by Haela's mists, then seem'd it\nAs if fate only for that oath had waited.\nThree times above me thunder'd the high Norna;\nShe spake; but terrible is Skulda's thunder;\nI cannot bear its sound; I swift departed;\nBut soon was conscious of our spear's discovery.\nThen thou didst call-- But hear the heavy pinions!\n'Tis she! 'tis Rota!  I aside must hasten;\nFor Valhall's maids detest me.  [LOKE goes aside.\n\nHOTHER, and presently the Valkyrie ROTA.\n\nHOTHER (he pursues LOKE with a contemptuous look).  Outcast!\nHa! dastard slave! and thou didst swear me friendship!\nNo, ne'er hast thou been Hother's friend, thou traitor,\nBut the sworn enemy of the gods and virtue!\n\nROTA (handing him the fatal spear with a half-averted countenance).  Here,\nson of Hothbrod! here, my much-lov'd warrior!\nReceive this spear, and use it as--\n\nHOTHER.  Thou weepest!\n\nROTA.  Thou saw'st my tear--dear and noble the blood is\nWhich it forebodes; but do thou use this weapon!\nYet 'tis no gift of mine--'tis that of Skulda.\n\nHOTHER.  I know thou fearest for the generous Balder;\nBut, noble maid, if thou my heart see'st into,\nThou know'st that he is safe as Thor in Valhall.\n\nROTA.  Think'st thou to thwart the Norna's will, young hero?\nShe pointed out the hidden tree; she bade me\nBreak off the bough of death; she bade me harden\nIts point in Nastroud's flames; she-- But what will I?\nMy tears are wasted, like thy noble project.\nWell, then: use thou this spear!  Death is its surname,\nAnd whom it smites eternal sleep shall fetter\nIn Haelheim's silent night, if he is mortal;\nThe immortal demon, whose eye by hate and wickedness\nIs clouded, 'twill plunge to torments of a thousand winters.\nMark that, and use it well!  Thy breast is noble;\nBut him, the wretch! who breathest poison in it,\n(Full well I know he's near) him shalt thou punish.\n\n[ROTA disappears.\n\nHOTHER, and presently LOKE.\n\nHOTHER.  Now, now! is all a dream?  Yet, I've the weapon!\nHow welcome death! my noble foe no longer\nShall hide thee from me, nor of thee deprive me;\nNow can I keep what I have sworn!  O Nanna!\nI bring a noble offering to thy virtue!\n\n[He is going, but LOKE meets him at the entrance.\n\nLOKE.  Whither? thou Fortune's fav'rite!\n\nHOTHER (sharply).  Ha! to Haelheim.\n\nLOKE.  Hother, I scoff thy wise determination.\n\nHOTHER (incensed).  Thou scoffest?\n\nLOKE.  Yes, thou holdest thy foeman's life,\nAnd thou wilt die.\n\nHOTHER.  What foeman's?\n\nLOKE.  Whose, if not Balder's?\n\nHOTHER.  Ah, my life he gave me!\nAnd though I hold the gift in little value,\nI took it still.  And shall his lofty spirit\nHis downfall prove?  Shall I, shall Hother punish\nThe pity I craved not?\n\nLOKE.  By Hael! he's coming!\nWaste not the moments in these foolish visions.\n\nHOTHER.  What wouldst thou?\n\nLOKE.  Stand behind that pine, and kill him!\n\nHOTHER.  Ha! dastard slave!\n\n[He strikes LOKE on the head with the spear, and he instantly sinks\nhowling into the earth.  He is no sooner out of sight than everything\nbecomes quiet.  The sun rises in its full majesty.  After HOTHER has for\nsome time looked on all this with astonishment, he says:\n\nLike thee fall every traitor\nWho breatheth wickedness in the Skiolding's bosom!\nHa, Balder!  [He goes somewhat aside.\n\nHOTHER.  BALDER.\n\nBALDER (without perceiving HOTHER).  Gloomy was this night and horrid!\nAround about me angry gods consulted.\nWhat seek they?  To affright the soul of Balder?\nNow all is still.\n\nHOTHER.  Now unconcern'd and haughty\nWalks the high demigod!  Ah, little thinks he\nEach breath he draweth is the gift of Hother.\n\nBALDER.  Who utter'd Hother's name?  I heard it utter'd,\nBut all is hushed as death.  I know not wherefore\nThat name affects me more than any other,\nAnd why within mine ear 'tis ever buzzing.\nAh! can I more than pity him, poor mortal!\nWho now his life and feebleness bewaileth,\nAnd trembles weaponless at his own shadow.\n\nHOTHER.  Ha, now! for that is worthy of the Skoldung;\nI'll be as proud as thou, and fly thy presence!  [He goes.\n\nBALDER.  Who's speaking here?  Who dares disturb my musings?\nBut, know I not that Finnish fiends are swarming\nUpon the rocks!  The sun approach'd the ocean,\nAnd yet I found not Nanna: all deserted\nWas Gevar's house, and hollow rang each echo\nOf Balder's sighs.  Where was she, then? where was she?\nAh!  Hother charm'd thee.  In the arms of Hother\nThou didst not hear my sighs, my timid knocking,\nAnd my enamour'd call, thou cruel maiden!\nAnd what if I had found thee?  Then thine answer\nMost probably had prov'd the death of Balder.\nI know myself no more; my heart it flutters,\nAnd here about it creeps unwonted chillness.\nYes, Nanna! yes; 'twas thou taught'st me to tremble.\nAh! belov'd maiden!  I, a half-god, tremble\nWhen thou but breathest, when thy lip thou movest,\nAs if to utter No, thy lip is open'd.\nOh, hush! and let me sink with hope to Haelheim!\nBut did I not behold thine eye beam friendship\nOn Balder? felt I not thy warm tear trickle\nUpon this hand? and saw I not thy blushes?\nHa!  I'll think through, I will enjoy entirely\nMy hope: why then, my heart, beat'st thou so wildly?\nAnd why in Balder's eyes are tears uprising,\nAnd hope to me a stranger?  Oh, my treasure,\nThou teachest me a dastard's fear!  I tremble\nNow I've a glimpse of hope to be depriv'd of.\nAh! if 'tis torn from me again, if Nanna--\nOh doubt! oh fear with which my heart is tortur'd!\nYes, Thor, my friend, thy words were truth and wisdom;\nThat pity that she showed was thanks for sparing Hother:\nShe trembled but for Hother--for the lov'd one:\nEach tear but begged his life.  What cruel delusion\nHas led my soul astray?  Ah, wretched meteor\nOf empty hope! thou, thou for me couldst glitter,\nAs if I had been ignorant of her hatred.\nHa! she has ever fled my path, my shadow;\nAnd when, to my own torment, once I wrested\nFrom the proud maid some sort of heed and answer,\n'Twas mockery mere: she called herself unworthy\nTo be great Balder's bride and Odin's daughter,\nAnd held my love-sick sighs for jest and flatt'ry.\nYet never have I heard the word which killeth,\nWithout the aid of Surtur's deadly sapling--\nThe No, the frightful No, by Nanna utter'd.\nHa!  I will hear it!  Yes, by Haelheim's darkness!\nMy tears shall now extract that No from Nanna.\n\nNANNA, BALDER.\n\nNANNA (she rushes distractedly in upon the stage).  Ah!\nNo one answers me!  Do thou give hearing\nTo Nanna's hard rock, which no god heedeth!\nMy anguish ease!  Reply!  Ah, where's my lov'd one?\n\nBALDER (aside).  My fate will have it so.  Ha, Nanna.\n\nNANNA.  Show me,\nYe silent forests, shades once lov'd, now awful,\nOh, show me him--disclose me my dearest!\n\nBALDER (aside).  Ha! shall I?  Dare I?\n\nNANNA.  Ah, where art thou, Hother?\nPerhaps in an abyss, all crushed and bloody\nAnd silent!  Woe is me! for ever silent!\n\nBALDER (springing to her).  Dear Nanna!  Oh what terror--\n\nNANNA.  Ha!  I've seen him!\nThe direst dream has shown to me my Hother!\nClose by a yawning chasm was he standing,\nAnd round about him bellow'd hideous monsters.\n\nBALDER.  Thine--as thou callest him--thine Hother liveth.\n\nNANNA (whilst she recognizes BALDER).  Ha Balder! thou hast slain him!\nAh, forgive me!\nMy dream confuses me--thou see'st I tremble.\nI heard the fall of gods--the gods lamenting;\nAnd bloody by the Hall there stood a spectre:\nBig was the ruddy wound whereto it pointed.\nLike one deep musing it conceal'd its visage;\nBut big the tears were through its fingers streaming:\nAh, the pale son of night was tall as Hother!\n\nBALDER.  Ha!  Hother can't be dead.\n\nNANNA.  I do believe thee;\nBut ah! I cannot rest--I cannot, Balder,\nTill I have seen his face, have spoken to him,\nEmbrac'd his arm, and press'd it to this bosom.\n\nBALDER (distractedly).  Ha, Nanna! this is more--'tis more, by Odin,\nThan I can bear!\n\nNANNA (terrified).  Ye mighty gods of heaven!\nThou fright'nest me, forlorn one!\n\n[She endeavours to escape, but BALDER detains her by force, and flings\nhimself at her feet.\n\nBALDER.  Oh my Nanna!\nStay! by these burning tears I do adjure thee,\nBy all my sufferings!  Stay, oh stay!\n\nNANNA (with disquiet).  What wilt thou?\n\nBALDER.  I scarcely know!  Ah!  I have hop'd, dear Nanna!\n\nNANNA.  Unhand me!  Let me fly!  What hast thou hop'd for?\nThou know'st who has my love.  Unhand me, Balder!\n\nBALDER.  No, by the gods! here at thy feet I'll hear thee\nPronounce my doom.  Is there no hope remaining?\nCan all my tenderness--these tears--can nothing\nSoften thy cruelty?  Oh, answer, Nanna!\nSay so at once!  Plunge in my heart the dagger!\n\nNANNA.  Ah, wherefore, Balder, dost thou love a mortal?\n\nBALDER.  Perhaps thou doubtest my love, perhaps thou wishest\nIts whole extent.  Ha, towards Heaven\nI'll lift my better hand, and vow eternal,\nEternal tenderness to thee, my Nanna!\nIf greater proofs thou wish'st for, do but name them,\nThat I may show to thee how dear I love thee!\n\nNANNA.  Ah, Balder, spare me! spare thyself!  What wilt thou?\nHow often have I said my heart can never\nMerit the like of thee!\n\nBALDER.  Accurst evasion!\nWhy dost thou seek to spare me?  Crush me! kill me!\nSay that thou never wilt!\n\nNANNA.  Ah, I love Hother!\nHow can I?\n\nBALDER.  Perhaps thou only think'st thou lov'st him.\nCan he deserve thee, Nanna? he, a mortal?\n\nNANNA (incensed).  He loveth virtue, Balder; he is valiant,\nAnd great is he 'mongst kings; he ruleth over\nThe Danes!\n\nBALDER.  I'm more than any king, oh Nanna!\n\nNANNA.  Wert thou a god, I'd still have none but Hother!\n\nBALDER (stretches his right hand despairingly towards heaven).  Although\nrejected--hear it all ye heavens--\nAlthough rejected, I will love thee, Nanna!\n\n[He has scarcely finished speaking when the Valkyrie ROTA appears.  The\nBird of Death sits upon her shoulder.  She averts her countenance,\ntouches his skull with her spear, and says:\n\nTo battle, friend! to wounds, and fall, and darkness!\n\n[She immediately disappears, and as BALDER and NANNA have their backs\nturned to her, and have both been too attentive to themselves to observe\nany one else, she is neither seen nor heard but by the spectators.\n\nBALDER (he springs up like a maniac, and holds his hand for some time\nbefore his head).  Ha! how I'm dreaming! how I waste my moments\nIn dastard sighs, bewailing like a woman!\nAnd have I not a shield and sword?  To battle!\nTo battle, Balder!  Let thy broad sword glitter!\nLift high the sword, cleave down the haughty warrior,\nAnd dip thy spear in blood, thou son of Odin!\nHa! din of shield 'gainst shield, and battle's bellow,\nThey, they shall gladden me--and deafen Nanna!\nAnd I will cool this heart in blood of Kempions!\n\n[He draws his sword, and runs away in madness.\n\nNANNA (alone).  Ye heavens! what did he mean?  Alas, he rages!\nWretch that I am! he goes to slay my Hother!\n\n   My hopes ye annih'late,\n   Ye powers of the sky!\n   Who'll strengthen me, fainting,\n   Against the god's might?\n   Who'll heed my lamenting,\n   My sorrowful plight?\n   Ah! whom can I wend to?\n   Will earth e'er attend to\n   A powerless cry,\n   Which cruel gods smile at?\n   My hopes ye annih'late,\n   Ye powers of the sky!\n   Ha! ye have crush'd my heart!  Oh Hother!  Hother!\n   Where art thou?  Ah!  I can no more!  I'm swooning!\n   O Death!  O Freya!\n\n[She supports herself, fainting, against a tree.\n\nHOTHER, NANNA.\n\nHOTHER (he rushes up to her in alarm).  Dearest!\n\nNANNA (looking stiffly upon him).  Ah! my Hother!\n\nHOTHER.  So wild! so pale!  Ah! would thy noble bosom\nWas not so tender!\n\nNANNA.  Voice of my belov'd one!\nOh, speak again!  Oh, speak again!\n\nHOTHER.  Thou tremblest,\nMy bride! my much-lov'd bride!  And burning tear-drops,\nOh, hide them!  Ha! they burn me--melt my courage!\nWeep not, my bride!\n\nNANNA.  Ah, joy! the joy of heaven,\nEntices forth these tears!  My Hother liveth!\n\nHOTHER (mournfully).  Still liveth!\n\nNANNA (affectionately and sorrowfully).  Still!\n\nHOTHER (turning away his face).  O cruel, cruel fortune!\nYet I have sworn?\n\nNANNA.  Fright me not, my Hother!\nAffright me not!  What mean'st thou?  Mighty powers!\nThine eyes thou turnest from thy bride!\n\nHOTHER (looking upon her with tenderness).  Ah, Nanna!\n\nNANNA.  Ha! tears on Hother's cheeks!  Oh, save me, Freya!\nWhat means this?  Oh, I die!\n\nHOTHER (he embraces her with violence).  Oh, dearest Nanna!\n\nNANNA.  Oh heaven! say--\n\nHOTHER (embraces her again).  Once more, my bride!\n\nNANNA.  I tremble\nWhat means this?\n\nHOTHER.  Canst thou bury in oblivion\nThy Hother's cruel doubt?  Say, canst thou pardon\nHis only crime?\n\nNANNA.  Think'st thou I can remember\nThat Hother e'er has err'd?\n\nHOTHER.  How nobly spoken!\nFarewell, my bride! farewell, for ever.\n\n[He embraces her for the third time, and is going; but she holds fast his\narm.\n\nNANNA.  Cruel!\nIf thou hast ever lov'd me--\n\nHOTHER.  Canst thou doubt it?\nBy Odin, more than the best light!  Can Hother's\nTears not make bare to thee his heart?\n\nNANNA Then wherefore\nWouldst thou fly from me!\n\nHOTHER.  Honour calleth--Honour!\nAnd that--forgive me--that is more than Nanna.\nHa!  I must fly from thee!  Each tear thou sheddest\nEnfeebles but my heart, and makes death bitter.\n\n[He is going.\n\nNANNA..  If thou regard'st my vow--regard'st my terror,\nWouldst thou not see me die, and die distracted--\n\nHOTHER.  What wilt thou?\n\nNANNA.  Ah! a prayer!--oh how I tremble--\nBut if thou meetest Balder--\n\nHOTHER.  I avoid him!\n\nNANNA (astonished, and calmer).  What! thou avoid'st him?\n\nHOTHER.  Think'st thou I bear hatred\n'Gainst one who yielded thee a glimpse of pleasure?\nOne--nearly one of Hother's days?  He gave me\nMy life, and shall I slay him in requital?\nOh!  Nanna, . . .  I've the mighty thought imagined;\nBut with it trembles yet my lip--oh, canst thou\nPay virtue its reward--forget for ever thy Hother,\nAnd--in course of time--love Balder?\n\nNANNA.  Oh, hush! oh, hush! my Hother!\n\nHOTHER.  He is virtuous,\nHe loves thee well, and Odin is his father.\n\nNANNA.  How cruel!\n\nHOTHER.  I must fly from thee for ever!\n\nNANNA.  Oh horror!  Whither?  What is thy intention?\n\nHOTHER.  To die!  Thou know'st my oath!  Ha! the sun hastens!\nSeest thou how high?  I swore by Hothbrod's ashes\nWith Balder not to live a day!  Release me!\nHa! seest thou how high--\n\nNANNA.  And I have sworn too,\nBy tenderness, by Freya, by my bosom,\nI'll not release thee; I thy track will follow\nIn the black night of death!  This arm I'll cling to,\nAnd my tear-moisten'd eye, until it bursteth,\nShall gaze on thee, shall gaze on thee, its Hother!\n\nHOTHER.  Then be courageous--of thy Hother worthy!\nThink on his oath, and--\n\nNANNA (she releases him).  Ah, what wilt thou, Hother?\n\nHOTHER.  And see him die!\n\n[He lifts his spear to stab himself.  At that same moment the frantic\nBALDER rushes upon the scene.\n\nBALDER, HOTHER, NANNA.\n\nBALDER (he runs directly up to NANNA).  Come! follow me now, Nanna!\nOur bridal festival's prepar'd in Haelheim,\nIn Asgaard.  Follow me, thou murky daughter\nOf joy!  Ha, quick!  Of dastard love I dream not.\nJotuns await my arm.  Hurrah! thou stayest!\nThou stayest!  Come!\n\n[He seizes her by the arm, and seeks to drag her away by force.  HOTHER\nsteps between, and endeavours to thrust him aside with his hand.\n\nNANNA.  Oh, save me! save me, Hother!\n\nHOTHER.  Hold, Balder!\n\nBALDER (he releases NANNA, and drawing his sword, hews at HOTHER with his\nutmost might, who seeks to parry the blow with his spear, retreating at\nthe same time).  Fall, presumptuous wretch!\n\nHOTHER.  Beware thee!\n\nBALDER.  Fall, nidding!\n\nHOTHER.  Ha, beware thee!\n\nBALDER.  Die!\n\n[He stumbles, and runs the spear into his breast; whereupon he\nimmediately drops his sword and sinks upon one knee.\n\nHOTHER.  Ha, Balder!\n\nBALDER.  Ha, Nanna!--Thor!  I have deserv'd my fortune.\n\n[He dies, and a mighty whirlwind passes over the scene.\n\nNANNA.  Ye heavens!\n\nHOTHER.  He is dead, the mighty Balder!\n\nA VOICE FAR AWAY IN THE FOREST.  He is dead, the mighty Balder!\n\nMANY VOICES, which answer one another amongst the rocks.\nThe mighty Balder is dead.\n\n[It thunders; ODIN and FRIGGA appear upon a cloud in a very mournful\nattitude.  THOR and many of the ASER come forward from one side of the\nwood, and the three VALKYRIER from the other.\n\nTHOR (and his retinue).  Odin, thy Balder is dead!\n\nCHORUS.  Thunders, burst your cloudy portals!\nHeaven, earth, and ocean rave!\nWeep ye gods, and mourn ye mortals,\nO'er the mighty Balder's grave!\n\nTHOR.  Gods of battle stern and gory,\nWeep ye o'er the hero slain!\nBalder, thou the Aser's glory!\nLove, base love, has prov'd thy bane.\n\nCHORUS.  Balder, thou the Aser's glory,\nLove, base love, has prov'd thy bane.\n\nROTA.  I of slaughter swift purveyor,\nSorrow o'er the hero slain!\nBalder, thou the Jotun-slayer,\nLoke's falsehood was thy bane.\n\nCHORUS.  Balder, thou the Jotun-slayer,\nLoke's falsehood was thy bane.\n\nHOTHER.  Hother's burning tears are flowing\nO'er the mighty Balder slain;\nAh, thy heart with virtue glowing,\nNoble Balder, was thy bane.\n\nCHORUS.  Ah, thy heart with virtue glowing,\nNoble Balder, was thy bane.\n\nNANNA.  Nanna weeps with pallid feature\nO'er the mighty Balder slain:\nFriend of gods and every creature!\nFate alone has prov'd thy bane.\n\nCHORUS.  Friend of gods and every creature!\nFate alone has prov'd thy bane.\n\nMANY VOICES answer one another among the rocks.  The\nmighty Balder is dead!\n\nCONCLUDING CHORUS.  Thunders, burst your cloudy portals!\nHeaven, earth, and ocean rave!\nWeep and howl, ye gods and mortals,\nO'er the mighty Balder's grave.\n\n\n\n\nEXPLANATION OF THE MYTHOLOGICAL WORDS AND NAMES.\n\n\nALLFATHER was one of Odin's surnames, but it signifies in this piece the\nhighest being, who governs all things, and Odin himself.\n\nALF, a spirit; the same as Demon amongst the Greeks.  There were good and\nbad Alf's or Elves, light and black, as the Edda calls them.\n\nASER, was one of Odin's surnames, and on that account the name of Aser\nwas given to all the gods.\n\nASGARD, the castle or city of the gods, erected by Odin and his brothers.\n\nTHE FALL OF ASGARD.  At the end of the world the heavens were to burst,\nand the castle of the gods to fall.\n\nBALDER, son of Odin and Frigga, the best and most beautiful amongst the\nAser.  His death and the circumstances which caused it in this piece--that\nis, the whole plot--are taken partly from the Edda (43rd, 44th and 45th\nfalle), partly from the third book of Saxo, and something is, according\nto poetic license, added or altered.\n\nFENRI'S wolf, was begot by Loke with the giantess Angerbode.  This wolf\nin the conflict of Surtur with the gods was to swallow Odin, who on\naccount of this prophecy kept him in chains.\n\nFIGHT AND DEATH OF GODS.  At the destruction of the world, Odin and the\nother gods were to fight with Surtur and his train, and all to perish in\nthis conflict.  This period is termed, in the Edda, Ragnarokr, the\n\"twilight of the gods.\"\n\nFIND, a Trold or Demon of this name.\n\nFREYA, the most exalted of the goddesses next to Frigga.  She was the\nprotectress of the human race in general, but particularly of lovers.\n\nFRIGGA, the wife of Odin and the mother of Balder; the most exalted of\nall the goddesses.\n\nGELDER, king of the Saxons (according to Saxo, in the life of Hother).  He\nis presumed here to have been killed by Hother, who is therefore called\n\"the bane of Gelder.\"\n\nGEVAR, according to Saxo, a spaeman or prophet, the father of Nanna and\nthe foster-father of Hother.  He makes him likewise king of Norway; but\nGiver is not so in this piece.\n\nHAEL or HAELA, the goddess of death.  She was the daughter of Loke and\nthe giantess Angerbode, and was hurled down by Odin to her horrible\nhabitation.\n\nHAELHEIM, Hael's dwelling.  In the Edda it is called Helim, that is,\nHell; but as the word Hell has now a different signification, it was\nnecessary to invent here a word to express Hael's dwelling.\n\nHAELWAY, the way of the dead, or the path to Haelheim.\n\nHERTE, HERTA, or HERTHA, the earth, considered as a divine being and\nworshipped as a goddess by the old German and Northern people, as\nlikewise by the Romans and others.  The Edda calls this goddess Jord\n(that is, earth), and makes her the daughter and wife of Odin, and the\nmother of Thor, his first son.\n\nHERTEDAL, the place in Sielland where Herte's grove was.\n\nHOTHBROD, the father of Hother, according to Saxo, who makes him king of\nSweden, and thus Hother a Swede.  Contrary to which, the author of this\npiece found himself justified in reckoning Hother amongst the Skioldungs.\n\nHOTHER, according to Saxo, was king of Denmark and Sweden; but his Life,\nby the same, is a chain of fables, which has yet given considerable\noccasion to the contents of this piece.\n\nLEIRE, the ancient place of residence of the Danish kings, whence they\nwere termed \"Kings of Leire.\"\n\nLIDSKIALF, in the Edda Klidskialf, a place in Asgard from which Odin\nsurveys the whole world.\n\nLOKE, a very wicked god, who, according to the Edda, was the cause of the\ndeath of Balder, and was therefore conducted by the other gods to a\ncavern, where they chained him to three rocks, there to suffer the most\npainful punishment until the destruction of the world.  By the giantess\nAngerbode he begot Fenri's Wolf, Midgard's Serpent, and Hael.  He was\nreckoned among the Aser, and was, notwithstanding his wickedness,\nbeautiful of appearance.\n\nMIDGARD'S SERPENT, a serpent begot by Loke with the giantess Angerbode.\nIt was to be one of the occasioners of the world's destruction, and was\non that account cast by Odin into the deep sea, where it grew to such a\ndegree that it lay round the whole earth, and bit its own tail.\n\nMIMMER, the owner of a fountain wherein wisdom and knowledge of the\nfuture lay concealed, out of which he drank every morning.  Odin was once\nobliged to lay one of his eyes in pawn, in order to obtain a draught from\nthis fountain.  He was likewise, when Surtur should attack the gods, to\nride to this fountain and seek counsel from Mimer on his own and his\narmy's account.\n\nMIMRING, this is the sword called here, which Hother, according to the\nrelation of Saxo, took from a satyr or wild man of the same name.\n\nNANNA, daughter of Gevar, beloved by Hother, and by Balder, son of Odin,\naccording to Saxo, whose narration bears that Hother wedded Nanna, and\nafterwards slew Balder by the assistance of an enchanted belt which three\nnymphs had bestowed upon him.\n\nNASTROUD, was properly the place where the ungodly were to be after the\ndestruction of the world, but here the word is intended to signify the\nglowing and burning world towards the south, at whose extremest end\nSurtur had his habitation, and which is called in the Edda, Muspel, or\nMuspelheim.\n\nNORNIES, were the goddesses of destiny, whose messages Odin himself was\ncompelled to fear and to attend to.  They were three in number.  But the\neldest, Urd (been), presided over the past; the second, Verande (being),\nthe present; and the youngest, Skuld (shall be), the future.\n\nODIN, the god of war, the most exalted of the gods, and father of them\nall.\n\nROTA, one of the Valkyrier.  See VALKYRIER.\n\nSKIOLDUNG.  Skiold, son of Odin, was the founder of the Danish monarchy.\nHis descendants were called after him Skioldungs, or, contractedly,\nSkiolds.\n\nSKULDA (in the Edda, SKULD), the youngest Nornie.  See NORNIES.\n\nSURTUR (the Black), the ruler of the glowing or burning world, at whose\nextremest end was his seat or dwelling.  See above: NASTROUD.  At the\nfated time he was with his army to overcome and slaughter Odin and all\nthe gods, and thereupon set fire to the whole world.\n\nTHOR, was the god of thunder and strength: with his hammer he slew Yults,\nTrolds, and other foes of Odin and the gods.\n\nTYR, one of the bravest and wisest gods, so that it was customary to say\nproverbially, \"As bold as Tyr,\" \"Wise as Tyr.\"\n\nVALFATHER, the father of the slain or fallen in battle: one of Odin's\nsurnames.\n\nVALHALL, (the Hall of the Slain), the place where all warriors who had\nfallen by the enemy were so nobly entertained by Odin.  It is commonly\ncalled Valhalla; but Valhall is the right, and Valhalla only the\nLatinized name in Resenius' edition of the Edda.\n\nVALKYRIER, were virgins, or war-maids, who waited upon the heroes in\nValhall.  Three of them, amongst whom was Rota, were commonly dispatched\nto the field of battle by Odin, in order to choose them who were to be\nslain, which employment the name Valkyrier denotes.  These three have\nobtained a place in this tragedy, and Rota is made the principal of them.\n\nUDGAARD (UDGARD), Loke's dwelling outside of heaven.  His usual name in\nthe Edda is Udgarda Loke, Loke of Udgard; and thus Saxo in the Life of\nGorm the first calls him Ugartilocum.\n\nYMER, the first giant, Yutt, or Jotun, who lived before the heaven and\nthe earth existed, and who was killed with all his offspring by Odin and\nhis brothers.  Only one of this giant race, by name Borgeline, escaped,\ntogether with his wife, and became the stem-father of the subsequent\nJotuns.\n\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n{1}  Wadmal, a coarse woollen stuff, much worn by Norwegian peasants.\n\n{2}  Skiers are wooden pattens to run upon over the frozen snow","title":"The Death of Balder","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":14760}