 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
Balder the Beautiful.
A SONG OF DIVINE DEATH.
ω Θανατε Παιαν!
‘For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive. . . . But some man will say,
How are the dead raised up? and with what body do they come? Thou fool, that which thou
sowest is not quickened, except it die. . . . Behold, I show you a mystery; we shall not all sleep,
but we shall all be changed.’—
Paul, Cor. ist Ep. chap. xv.
[_]
NOTE.
It may be well for readers of the following poem to dismiss from their minds all recollection ot the Eddas, Ewald's Balder, Oehlenschläger's Balder hün Gode, and even Mr. Arnold's Balder Dead. With the hero of these familiar works my Balder has little in common; he is neither the shadowy god of the Edda, nor the colossal hero of Ewald, nor the good principle of Oehlenschläger: nor the Homeric demigod of Mr. Arnold. In the presentation of both the Father and Son, I have reverted to the lines of the most primitive mythology: discovering in the one the northern Messiah as well as the northern Apollo, in the other (instead of the degraded Odin of later superstition) the Alfadur, or temporarily omnipotent godhead, who, despite his darker features, has affinity with both the Zeus of the Eleusinian mysteries and the Jehovah of the Bible. It is unnecessary, however, further to explain the spirit of a poem which each competent reader will interpret in his own way, and which, if it fulfils its purpose at all, should have many meanings for many minds.
A portion of Balder the Beautiful has already been printed in the pages of the Contemporary Review.
PROEM TO---.
A SONG OF A DREAM.
O what is this cry in our burning ears,
And what is this light on our eyes, dear love?
The cry is the cry of the rolling years,
As they break on the sun-rock, far above;
And the light is the light of that rock of gold
As it burneth bright in a starry sea;
And the cry is clearer a hundredfold,
And the light more bright, when I gaze on thee.
My weak eyes dazzle beneath that gleam,
My sad ears deafen to hear that cry:
I was born in a dream, and I dwell in a dream,
And I go in a dream to die!
O whose is this hand on my forehead bare,
And whose are these eyes that look in mine?
The hand is the Earth's soft hand of air,
The eyes are the Earth's—thro' tears they shine;
And the touch of the hand is so soft, so light,
As the ray of the blind orbs blesseth me;
But the touch is softest, the eyes most bright,
When I sit and smile by the side of thee.
For the mortal Mother's blind eyes beam
With the long-lost love of a life gone by,
On her breast I woke in a beauteous dream,
And I go in a dream to die!
And what is this light on our eyes, dear love?
The cry is the cry of the rolling years,
As they break on the sun-rock, far above;
And the light is the light of that rock of gold
As it burneth bright in a starry sea;
And the cry is clearer a hundredfold,
And the light more bright, when I gaze on thee.
My weak eyes dazzle beneath that gleam,
My sad ears deafen to hear that cry:
I was born in a dream, and I dwell in a dream,
And I go in a dream to die!
O whose is this hand on my forehead bare,
And whose are these eyes that look in mine?
The hand is the Earth's soft hand of air,
The eyes are the Earth's—thro' tears they shine;
And the touch of the hand is so soft, so light,
As the ray of the blind orbs blesseth me;
But the touch is softest, the eyes most bright,
When I sit and smile by the side of thee.
For the mortal Mother's blind eyes beam
With the long-lost love of a life gone by,
On her breast I woke in a beauteous dream,
And I go in a dream to die!
O what are the voices around my way,
And what are these shadows that stir below?
The voices of waifs in a world astray,
The shadows of souls that come and go.
And I hear and see, and I wonder more,
For their features are fair and strange as mine,
But most I wonder when most I pore
On the passionate peace of this face of thine.
We walk in silence by wood and stream,
Our gaze upturned to the same blue sky:
We move in a dream, and we love in a dream,
And we go in our dream to die!
And what are these shadows that stir below?
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The shadows of souls that come and go.
And I hear and see, and I wonder more,
For their features are fair and strange as mine,
But most I wonder when most I pore
On the passionate peace of this face of thine.
We walk in silence by wood and stream,
Our gaze upturned to the same blue sky:
We move in a dream, and we love in a dream,
And we go in our dream to die!
O what is this music of merry bells,
And what is this laughter across the wold?
'Tis the mirth of a market that buys and sells,
'Tis the laughter of men that are counting gold.
I walk thro' Cities of silent stone,
And the public places alive I see;
The wicked flourish, the weary groan,
And I think it real, till I turn to thee!
And I smile to answer thine eyes' bright beam,
For I know all's vision that darkens by:
That they buy in a dream, and they sell in a dream,
And they go in a dream to die.
And what is this laughter across the wold?
'Tis the mirth of a market that buys and sells,
'Tis the laughter of men that are counting gold.
I walk thro' Cities of silent stone,
And the public places alive I see;
The wicked flourish, the weary groan,
And I think it real, till I turn to thee!
And I smile to answer thine eyes' bright beam,
For I know all's vision that darkens by:
That they buy in a dream, and they sell in a dream,
And they go in a dream to die.
O what are these shapes on their thrones of gold,
And what are those clouds around their feet?
The shapes are kings with their hearts clay-cold,
The clouds are armies that ever meet;
I see the flame of the crimson fire,
I hear the murdered who moan ‘Ah me!’—
My bosom aches with its bitter ire,
And I think it real, till I turn to thee!
And I hear thee whisper, ‘These shapes but seem—
They are but visions that flash and fly,
While we move in a dream, and love in a dream,
And go in our dream to die!’
And what are those clouds around their feet?
The shapes are kings with their hearts clay-cold,
The clouds are armies that ever meet;
I see the flame of the crimson fire,
I hear the murdered who moan ‘Ah me!’—
My bosom aches with its bitter ire,
And I think it real, till I turn to thee!
And I hear thee whisper, ‘These shapes but seem—
They are but visions that flash and fly,
While we move in a dream, and love in a dream,
And go in our dream to die!’
O what are these Spirits that o'er us creep,
And touch our eyelids and drink our breath?
The first, with a flower in his hand, is Sleep;
The next, with a star on his brow, is Death.
We fade before them whene'er they come,
(And never single those spirits be!)
A little season my lips are dumb,
But I waken ever,—and look for thee.
Yea, ever each night when the pale stars gleam
And the mystical Brethren pass me by,
This cloud of a trance comes across my dream,
As I seem in my dream to die!
And touch our eyelids and drink our breath?
The first, with a flower in his hand, is Sleep;
The next, with a star on his brow, is Death.
We fade before them whene'er they come,
(And never single those spirits be!)
A little season my lips are dumb,
But I waken ever,—and look for thee.
Yea, ever each night when the pale stars gleam
And the mystical Brethren pass me by,
This cloud of a trance comes across my dream,
As I seem in my dream to die!
O what is this grass beneath our feet,
And what are these beautiful under-blooms?
The grass is the grass of the churchyard, Sweet,
The flowers are flowers on the quiet tombs.
I pluck them softly, and bless the dead,
Silently o'er them I bend the knee,
But my tenderest blessing is surely said,
Tho' my tears fall fast, when I turn to thee.
For our lips are tuned to the same sad theme,
We think of the loveless dead, and sigh;
Dark is the shadow across our dream,
For we go in that dream to die!
And what are these beautiful under-blooms?
The grass is the grass of the churchyard, Sweet,
The flowers are flowers on the quiet tombs.
I pluck them softly, and bless the dead,
Silently o'er them I bend the knee,
But my tenderest blessing is surely said,
Tho' my tears fall fast, when I turn to thee.
For our lips are tuned to the same sad theme,
We think of the loveless dead, and sigh;
Dark is the shadow across our dream,
For we go in that dream to die!
O what is this moaning so faint and low,
And what is this crying from night to morn?
The moaning is that of the souls that go,
The crying is that of the souls new-born.
The life-sea gathers with stormy calls,
The wind blows shrilly, the foam flies free.
The great wave rises, the great wave falls,
I swim to its height by the side of thee!
With arms outstretching and throats that scream,
With faces that flash into foam and fly,
Our beings break in the light of a dream,
As the great waves gather and die.
And what is this crying from night to morn?
The moaning is that of the souls that go,
The crying is that of the souls new-born.
The life-sea gathers with stormy calls,
The wind blows shrilly, the foam flies free.
The great wave rises, the great wave falls,
I swim to its height by the side of thee!
With arms outstretching and throats that scream,
With faces that flash into foam and fly,
Our beings break in the light of a dream,
As the great waves gather and die.
O what is this Spirit with silvern feet,
His bright head wrapt in a saffron veil?
Around his raiment our wild arms beat,
We cling unto them, but faint and fail.
'Tis the Spirit that sits on the twilight star,
And soft to the sound of the waves sings he,
He leads the chaunt from his crystal car,
And I join in the mystical chaunt with thee,
And our beings burn with the heavenly theme,
For he sings of wonders beyond the sky,
Of a god-like dream, and of gods in a dream,
Of a dream that cannot die!
His bright head wrapt in a saffron veil?
Around his raiment our wild arms beat,
We cling unto them, but faint and fail.
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And soft to the sound of the waves sings he,
He leads the chaunt from his crystal car,
And I join in the mystical chaunt with thee,
And our beings burn with the heavenly theme,
For he sings of wonders beyond the sky,
Of a god-like dream, and of gods in a dream,
Of a dream that cannot die!
O closer creep to this breast of mine;
We rise, we mingle, we break, dear love!
A space on the crest of the wave we shine,
With light and music and mirth we move;
Before and behind us (fear not, sweet!)
Blackens the trough of the surging sea—
A little moment our mouths may meet,
A little moment I cling to thee;
Onward the wonderful waters stream,
'Tis vain to struggle, 'tis vain to cry—
We wake in a dream, and we ache in a dream,
And we break in a dream, and die!
We rise, we mingle, we break, dear love!
A space on the crest of the wave we shine,
With light and music and mirth we move;
Before and behind us (fear not, sweet!)
Blackens the trough of the surging sea—
A little moment our mouths may meet,
A little moment I cling to thee;
Onward the wonderful waters stream,
'Tis vain to struggle, 'tis vain to cry—
We wake in a dream, and we ache in a dream,
And we break in a dream, and die!
But who is this other with hair of flame,
The naked feet, and the robe of white?
A Spirit, too, with a sweeter name,
A softer smile, a serener light.
He wraps us both in a golden cloud,
He thrills our frames with a fire divine,
Our souls are mingled, our hearts beat loud,
My breath and being are blent with thine:
And the sun-rock flames with a flash supreme,
And the starry waves have a stranger cry—
We climb to the crest of our golden dream,
For we dream that we cannot die!
The naked feet, and the robe of white?
A Spirit, too, with a sweeter name,
A softer smile, a serener light.
He wraps us both in a golden cloud,
He thrills our frames with a fire divine,
Our souls are mingled, our hearts beat loud,
My breath and being are blent with thine:
And the sun-rock flames with a flash supreme,
And the starry waves have a stranger cry—
We climb to the crest of our golden dream,
For we dream that we cannot die!
Aye! the cry rings loud in our burning ears,
And the light flames bright on our eyes, dear love,
And we know the cry of the rolling years
As they break on the sun-rock far above;
And we know the light of the rock of gold,
As it burneth bright in a starry sea,
And the glory deepens a thousandfold
As I name the immortal gods and thee!
We shrink together beneath that gleam,
We cling together before that cry;
We were made in a dream, and we fade in a dream,
And if death be a dream, we die!
And the light flames bright on our eyes, dear love,
And we know the cry of the rolling years
As they break on the sun-rock far above;
And we know the light of the rock of gold,
As it burneth bright in a starry sea,
And the glory deepens a thousandfold
As I name the immortal gods and thee!
We shrink together beneath that gleam,
We cling together before that cry;
We were made in a dream, and we fade in a dream,
And if death be a dream, we die!
Balder the Beautiful.
The gods are brethren. Wheresoe'erThey set their shrines of love or fear,
In Grecian woods, by banks of Nile,
Where cold snows sleep or roses smile,
The gods are brethren. Zeus the Sire
Was fashion'd of the self-same fire
As Odin; He whom Ind brought forth
Hath his pale kinsmen east and north;
And more than one since life began
Hath known Christ's agony for Man.
The gods are brethren. Kin by fate,
In gentleness as well as hate,
'Mid heights that only Thought may climb
They come, they go; they are, or seem;
Each, rainbow'd from the rack of Time,
Casts broken lights across God's Dream.
I. THE BIRTH OF BALDER.
I. Balder's Birth-Song.
There blent with his growing
The leaf and the flower,
The wind lightly blowing
Its balm from afar,
The smile of the sunshine,
The sob of the shower,
The beam of the moonshine,
The gleam of the star.
'Mid shining of faces
And waving of wings,
With gifts from all places
Came beautiful things;
The blush from the blossom,
The bloom from the corn,
Blent into his bosom,
Ere Balder was born.
The leaf and the flower,
The wind lightly blowing
Its balm from afar,
The smile of the sunshine,
The sob of the shower,
The beam of the moonshine,
The gleam of the star.
'Mid shining of faces
And waving of wings,
With gifts from all places
Came beautiful things;
The blush from the blossom,
The bloom from the corn,
Blent into his bosom,
Ere Balder was born.
As a rainbow in heaven
Was woven the rune,
The colours were seven
Most dim and divine:
Thro' regions of thunder
Serene swam the moon,
With white rays of wonder
Completing the sign.
The snow-star was gleaming
Cold, silent, and clear,
Its bright image beaming
Deep down in the mere;
The night grew profounder,
The earth slept forlorn,
With the drift wrapt around her
Ere Balder was born.
Was woven the rune,
The colours were seven
Most dim and divine:
Thro' regions of thunder
Serene swam the moon,
With white rays of wonder
Completing the sign.
The snow-star was gleaming
Cold, silent, and clear,
Its bright image beaming
Deep down in the mere;
The night grew profounder,
The earth slept forlorn,
430
Ere Balder was born.
Beside a waste water
Lay Frea alone,
In Asgard they sought her,
To earth she had crept;
The Father was sitting
Snow-white on his throne,
The night-clouds were flitting,
The wind-harps were swept.
No eyes divine found her—
She lay as one dead—
Vast forests around her,
Black vapours o'erhead,—
She saw not,—she heard not,—
But weary and worn,
Snow-shrouded, she stirred not,
Ere Balder was born.
Lay Frea alone,
In Asgard they sought her,
To earth she had crept;
The Father was sitting
Snow-white on his throne,
The night-clouds were flitting,
The wind-harps were swept.
No eyes divine found her—
She lay as one dead—
Vast forests around her,
Black vapours o'erhead,—
She saw not,—she heard not,—
But weary and worn,
Snow-shrouded, she stirred not,
Ere Balder was born.
There, hid from the Father,
She brooded below,
In realms where pines gather
Ice-robed and ice-crown'd,
And the great trees were drooping,
Struck down by the snow,
With chilly arms stooping
To touch the white ground.
While whirlwinds were weaving
Their raiment of cloud,
She sat there conceiving,
Dark, brooding, and bow'd;
But where the boughs thicken'd
A bird sang one morn,—
And she kindled and quicken'd,
Ere Balder was born.
She brooded below,
In realms where pines gather
Ice-robed and ice-crown'd,
And the great trees were drooping,
Struck down by the snow,
With chilly arms stooping
To touch the white ground.
While whirlwinds were weaving
Their raiment of cloud,
She sat there conceiving,
Dark, brooding, and bow'd;
But where the boughs thicken'd
A bird sang one morn,—
And she kindled and quicken'd,
Ere Balder was born.
Then by that great water,
Within the dark woods,
The dawn broke, and brought her
A glimmer of Spring!
The gray geese came crying
Far over the floods,
The black crane pass'd, flying
With slow waft of wing.
And when the moon's silver
Was shed on the mere,
The cry of the culver
Was heard far and near,
And the owls to each other
Made answers forlorn,—
And she smiled, the sad Mother,
Ere Balder was born.
Within the dark woods,
The dawn broke, and brought her
A glimmer of Spring!
The gray geese came crying
Far over the floods,
The black crane pass'd, flying
With slow waft of wing.
And when the moon's silver
Was shed on the mere,
The cry of the culver
Was heard far and near,
And the owls to each other
Made answers forlorn,—
And she smiled, the sad Mother,
Ere Balder was born.
Then the peace and the splendour
Of powers of the night,
And the strength that grows tender
Where dusk rivers run,
The beam of the moonshine,
The soft starry light,
And the first smile of sunshine,
Were woven in one.
And they mingled within her
With motions of earth
To strengthen and win her
To mystical birth;—
By the pangs of a woman
The goddess was torn,
Ere, with heart of the human,
God Balder was born.
Of powers of the night,
And the strength that grows tender
Where dusk rivers run,
The beam of the moonshine,
The soft starry light,
And the first smile of sunshine,
Were woven in one.
And they mingled within her
With motions of earth
To strengthen and win her
To mystical birth;—
By the pangs of a woman
The goddess was torn,
Ere, with heart of the human,
God Balder was born.
The wind-gods were blowing
Their trumpets of might,
The skies were still snowing,
And dark was the wold,—
With a rock for her pillow
Lay Frea that night,
Beneath a great willow
All leafless and cold—
But the earth to strange motion
Was stirring around,
And the ice of the ocean
Had split with shrill sound;—
When coldly upspringing
Arose the red morn,
To a sound as of singing
Bright Balder was born!
Their trumpets of might,
The skies were still snowing,
And dark was the wold,—
With a rock for her pillow
Lay Frea that night,
Beneath a great willow
All leafless and cold—
But the earth to strange motion
Was stirring around,
And the ice of the ocean
Had split with shrill sound;—
When coldly upspringing
Arose the red morn,
To a sound as of singing
Bright Balder was born!
His hair was as golden
As lily-hearts be,
When, softly unfolden,
From black tarns they rise,—
The lights of the azure,
The shades of the sea,
Blent into the pleasure
Of beautiful eyes;
Like the aspen that lingers
Where waters run fleet
Was the touch of his fingers,
The thrill of his feet;
White, white as the blossom
That blows on the thorn,
On Frea's fair bosom
Bright Balder was born.
As lily-hearts be,
When, softly unfolden,
From black tarns they rise,—
The lights of the azure,
The shades of the sea,
Blent into the pleasure
Of beautiful eyes;
Like the aspen that lingers
Where waters run fleet
Was the touch of his fingers,
The thrill of his feet;
White, white as the blossom
That blows on the thorn,
On Frea's fair bosom
Bright Balder was born.
While soften'd and sadden'd
With love shone her face,
Uplooking he gladden'd
And clung to her breast,
For a light as of summer
Swept over the place,
When the shining new-comer
Awoke from his rest!
And the willow and alder
Thrill'd out unto bloom,
And the lilac brought Balder
Its light and perfume,
While the merle sable-suited
Sang merry by morn,
And with bill of gold fluted
That Balder was born!
With love shone her face,
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And clung to her breast,
For a light as of summer
Swept over the place,
When the shining new-comer
Awoke from his rest!
And the willow and alder
Thrill'd out unto bloom,
And the lilac brought Balder
Its light and perfume,
While the merle sable-suited
Sang merry by morn,
And with bill of gold fluted
That Balder was born!
At the notes of the singer
The sun glimmer'd gay,
And touch'd with bright finger
The child as he stirred!
For the snow from the mountains
Was melting away,
And the sound of the fountains
Upleaping was heard;
And the black soil was broken
To radiance of flowers,
While the Bow for a token
Gleam'd down thro' the showers;
Deep under the fallow
Now sprouted the corn,
And swift flash'd the swallow,
For Balder was born!
The sun glimmer'd gay,
And touch'd with bright finger
The child as he stirred!
For the snow from the mountains
Was melting away,
And the sound of the fountains
Upleaping was heard;
And the black soil was broken
To radiance of flowers,
While the Bow for a token
Gleam'd down thro' the showers;
Deep under the fallow
Now sprouted the corn,
And swift flash'd the swallow,
For Balder was born!
Yea, again up in heaven
Was rainbow'd the rune,
And the colours were seven
Most dim and divine:
Sweet creatures work'd under
The sun and the moon,
Completing the wonder
With whisper and sign.
With eyes brightly gleaming
The squirrel came near,
In flocks swam the lemming
Across the great mere,
And the gold-speckled spider
Found Frea that morn,
And was busy beside her
When Balder was born.
Was rainbow'd the rune,
And the colours were seven
Most dim and divine:
Sweet creatures work'd under
The sun and the moon,
Completing the wonder
With whisper and sign.
With eyes brightly gleaming
The squirrel came near,
In flocks swam the lemming
Across the great mere,
And the gold-speckled spider
Found Frea that morn,
And was busy beside her
When Balder was born.
And with him came waking
The leaf and the flower,
The wind lightly shaking
Its balm from afar,
The smile of the sunshine,
The sob of the shower,
The beam of the moonshine,
The gleam of the star.
'Mid shining of faces
And waving of wings,
With gifts from all places
Came beautiful things;
By night-time and day-time
No life was forlorn,
'Twas leaf-time, 'twas May-time,
And Balder was born.
The leaf and the flower,
The wind lightly shaking
Its balm from afar,
The smile of the sunshine,
The sob of the shower,
The beam of the moonshine,
The gleam of the star.
'Mid shining of faces
And waving of wings,
With gifts from all places
Came beautiful things;
By night-time and day-time
No life was forlorn,
'Twas leaf-time, 'twas May-time,
And Balder was born.
Yet the spell had been woven
Long ages ago,
That the clouds should be cloven,
The Father undone,
When the light of the sunshine,
The white of the snow,
And the starshine and moonshine,
Were mingled in one;
When the wind and the water,
The star and the flower,
Found a goddess, and brought her
Their strength for a dower;
Yea, in runes it was written,
With letters forlorn,
That the gods should be smitten
When Balder was born.
Long ages ago,
That the clouds should be cloven,
The Father undone,
When the light of the sunshine,
The white of the snow,
And the starshine and moonshine,
Were mingled in one;
When the wind and the water,
The star and the flower,
Found a goddess, and brought her
Their strength for a dower;
Yea, in runes it was written,
With letters forlorn,
That the gods should be smitten
When Balder was born.
Then roar'd the mad thunder
From regions afar,
And the world darken'd under
That wrath of the skies.
But the new-born, upleaping
As bright as a star,
Awoke from his sleeping
With love in his ears;—
And the dark rain ceased falling,
With slow silvern thrills,
And the cuckoo came, calling
Aloud on the hills,
And the glad Earth uplifted
Her face to the morn,
And past the storm drifted,
For Balder was born.
From regions afar,
And the world darken'd under
That wrath of the skies.
But the new-born, upleaping
As bright as a star,
Awoke from his sleeping
With love in his ears;—
And the dark rain ceased falling,
With slow silvern thrills,
And the cuckoo came, calling
Aloud on the hills,
And the glad Earth uplifted
Her face to the morn,
And past the storm drifted,
For Balder was born.
. . . In the sedge of the river
The swan makes its nest;
In the mere, with no quiver,
Stands shadow'd the crane;
Earth happy and still is,
Peace dwells in her breast,
And the lips of her lilies
Drink balm from the rain;
The lamb in the meadow
Upsprings with no care,
Deep in the wood's shadow
Is born the young bear;
The ash and the alder,
The flowers and the corn,
All waited for Balder,—
And Balder is born!
The swan makes its nest;
In the mere, with no quiver,
Stands shadow'd the crane;
Earth happy and still is,
Peace dwells in her breast,
432
Drink balm from the rain;
The lamb in the meadow
Upsprings with no care,
Deep in the wood's shadow
Is born the young bear;
The ash and the alder,
The flowers and the corn,
All waited for Balder,—
And Balder is born!
II. His Growth and Godhead.
Lovely as light and blossoms are,
And gentle as the dew,
A white god stainless as a star,
Deep-hidden, Balder grew.
And gentle as the dew,
A white god stainless as a star,
Deep-hidden, Balder grew.
For in the time when violets grow,
And birds sing thro' the showers,
Pale Frea left the child below,
Upon a bank of flowers.
And birds sing thro' the showers,
Pale Frea left the child below,
Upon a bank of flowers.
And heavenward now on weary feet
The mighty goddess flies,
And kneeleth at the Father's seat,
And gazeth in his eyes.
The mighty goddess flies,
And kneeleth at the Father's seat,
And gazeth in his eyes.
Around her in those shadowy halls
The great gods darkly tread.
‘Where is thy child?’ each cold voice calls;
Calmly she answereth, ‘Dead.
The great gods darkly tread.
‘Where is thy child?’ each cold voice calls;
Calmly she answereth, ‘Dead.
‘The arrows of the gods are keen,
An infant's heart is mild;
Buried within the forest green,
Now slumbereth my child.
An infant's heart is mild;
Buried within the forest green,
Now slumbereth my child.
‘The robin strewed him o'er with leaves,
And closed his eyes of blue,
And overhead the spider weaves
Her rune of silk and dew.’
And closed his eyes of blue,
And overhead the spider weaves
Her rune of silk and dew.’
Pale at the mighty banquet board
The Mother sat in pain:
The great gods smiling, with no word,
Drank deep, and breathed again. . . .
The Mother sat in pain:
The great gods smiling, with no word,
Drank deep, and breathed again. . . .
But down within the forest dim
The child divine lies quick!
The slanted sunlight comes to him
Thro' branches woven thick.
The child divine lies quick!
The slanted sunlight comes to him
Thro' branches woven thick.
He drinks no nurture of the breast,
No mother's kiss he knows;
Warm as a song bird in its nest
He feels the light, and grows.
No mother's kiss he knows;
Warm as a song bird in its nest
He feels the light, and grows.
Around him flock all gentle things
Which range the forest free:
Each shape that blooms, each shape that sings,
Looks on him silently.
Which range the forest free:
Each shape that blooms, each shape that sings,
Looks on him silently.
The light is melted on his lips
And on his eyes of blue,
And from the shining leaves he sips
The sweetness of the dew.
And on his eyes of blue,
And from the shining leaves he sips
The sweetness of the dew.
And slowly like an earthborn child
He learns to walk and run—
A forest form, with laughter wild,
He wanders in the sun.
He learns to walk and run—
A forest form, with laughter wild,
He wanders in the sun.
And now he knows the great brown bear,
And sitteth with its young,
And of their honcy takes his share,
Sucking with thirsty tongue.
And sitteth with its young,
And of their honcy takes his share,
Sucking with thirsty tongue.
Around him as he comes and goes
There clings a golden mist,
And in his bright hair blooms a rose,
And a bird sings on his wrist!
There clings a golden mist,
And in his bright hair blooms a rose,
And a bird sings on his wrist!
And wheresoe'er he sets his feet
Fair ferns and flowers spring,
And honeysuckles scented sweet
Grow where his fingers cling.
Fair ferns and flowers spring,
And honeysuckles scented sweet
Grow where his fingers cling.
He calls, and wood-doves at the cry
Come down to be caress'd;
Curl'd in his arms the lynx will lie,
Its lips against his breast.
Come down to be caress'd;
Curl'd in his arms the lynx will lie,
Its lips against his breast.
O look into his happy eyes,
As lustrous as the dew!
A light like running water lies
Within their depths of blue;
As lustrous as the dew!
A light like running water lies
Within their depths of blue;
And there the white cloud's shadow dim
Stirs, mirror'd soft and gray,
And far within the dream-dews swim
With melancholy ray.
Stirs, mirror'd soft and gray,
And far within the dream-dews swim
With melancholy ray.
Ev'n thus in beauteous shape he grows,
Unknown, unseen, unheard,
And night by night he takes repose
Like any flower or bird.
Unknown, unseen, unheard,
And night by night he takes repose
Like any flower or bird.
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He drinks the balmy breath of Earth,
He feels the light and rain,
Till, like a thing of mortal birth,
He shares her peace or pain.
He feels the light and rain,
Till, like a thing of mortal birth,
He shares her peace or pain.
A wild white shape with wondering eyes
He walks by wood and stream,
And softly on his spirit lies
The burthen of a dream.
He walks by wood and stream,
And softly on his spirit lies
The burthen of a dream.
His hair is like the midnight sun's,
All golden-red and bright;
But radiance as of moonrise runs
Upon his limbs of white.
All golden-red and bright;
But radiance as of moonrise runs
Upon his limbs of white.
And now the wood without a sound
Hushes its leaves in dread:
Beauty and mystery surround
The silence of his tread.
Hushes its leaves in dread:
Beauty and mystery surround
The silence of his tread.
Quietly as a moonbeam creeps
He moves from place to place;
Soft steals the starlight, as he sleeps,
To breathe upon his face.
He moves from place to place;
Soft steals the starlight, as he sleeps,
To breathe upon his face.
The ground grows green beneath his feet,
While, trembling on the stem,
The pale flowers drink again, full sweet,
The breath he draws from them.
While, trembling on the stem,
The pale flowers drink again, full sweet,
The breath he draws from them.
Now brightly gleams the soft green sod,
The golden sceds are sown;
O pale white lily of a god,
Thou standest now full blown!
The golden sceds are sown;
O pale white lily of a god,
Thou standest now full blown!
II. THE FINDING OF BALDER.
I. Frea in the Wood.
Blue night. Along the lonely forest way
The goddess, mighty-limb'd and marble white,
Tall in the shadow of the pines that waved
Their black arms in the moonrise overhead,
Stole silent-footed. Round her naked feet
The dews were luminous, and the breath of flowers
Rose from the scented path of grass and fern,
And all was stiller than a maiden's dream.
From grove to grove she went, like one that knew
Each shadow of that silent forest old,
And ever as she went the tangled light
That trembled on her thro' the woven boughs
Grew deeper and more dewy, until at last
She knew by chilly gleams upon the grass
That dawn was come. Still did that umbrage deep
Remain in dimness, tho' afar away
The hills were kindling with dull blood-red fires;
But when the trumpet of the day was blown
From the great golden gateways of the sun,
When leaf by leaf the crimson rose o' the east
Open'd, and leaf by leaf illumed in turn
Glitter'd the snowy lily of the north,
She left the shelter of those woods, and stood
Under the shining canopy of heaven.
The goddess, mighty-limb'd and marble white,
Tall in the shadow of the pines that waved
Their black arms in the moonrise overhead,
Stole silent-footed. Round her naked feet
The dews were luminous, and the breath of flowers
Rose from the scented path of grass and fern,
And all was stiller than a maiden's dream.
From grove to grove she went, like one that knew
Each shadow of that silent forest old,
And ever as she went the tangled light
That trembled on her thro' the woven boughs
Grew deeper and more dewy, until at last
She knew by chilly gleams upon the grass
That dawn was come. Still did that umbrage deep
Remain in dimness, tho' afar away
The hills were kindling with dull blood-red fires;
But when the trumpet of the day was blown
From the great golden gateways of the sun,
When leaf by leaf the crimson rose o' the east
Open'd, and leaf by leaf illumed in turn
Glitter'd the snowy lily of the north,
She left the shelter of those woods, and stood
Under the shining canopy of heaven.
Betore her lay a vast and tranquil lake,
And wading in its shallows silently
Great storks of golden white and light green cranes
Stood sentinel, while far as eye could see,
Swam the wild water-lily's oilëd leaves.
Still was that place as sleep, yet evermore
A stir amid its stillness; for behold,
At every breath of the warm summer wind
Blown on the beating bosom of the lake,
The white swarms of the new-born lily-flowers,
A pinch of gold-dust in the heart of each,
Rose from the bubbling depths, and open'd up,
And floated luminous with cups of snow.
Across that water came so sweet an air,
It fell upon the immortal mother's brow
Like coolest morning dew, and tho' she stood
Beneath the open arch of heaven, the light
Stole thro' the gauze of a soft summer mist
Most gentle and subdued. Then while she paused
Close to the rippling shallows sown with reeds,
Those cranes and storks arose above her head
In one vast cloud of flying green and gold;
And from the under-heaven innumerable
The lilies upward to the surface snow'd,
Till all the waters glitter'd gold and white;
And lo! the sun swept shining up the east,
And thro' the cloud of birds, and on the lake,
Shot sudden rays of light miraculous,—
Until the goddess veil'd her dazzled eyes,
And with the heaving whiteness at her feet
Her bosom heaved, till of that tremulous life
She seem'd a throbbing part!
And wading in its shallows silently
Great storks of golden white and light green cranes
Stood sentinel, while far as eye could see,
Swam the wild water-lily's oilëd leaves.
Still was that place as sleep, yet evermore
A stir amid its stillness; for behold,
At every breath of the warm summer wind
Blown on the beating bosom of the lake,
The white swarms of the new-born lily-flowers,
A pinch of gold-dust in the heart of each,
Rose from the bubbling depths, and open'd up,
And floated luminous with cups of snow.
Across that water came so sweet an air,
It fell upon the immortal mother's brow
Like coolest morning dew, and tho' she stood
Beneath the open arch of heaven, the light
Stole thro' the gauze of a soft summer mist
Most gentle and subdued. Then while she paused
Close to the rippling shallows sown with reeds,
Those cranes and storks arose above her head
In one vast cloud of flying green and gold;
And from the under-heaven innumerable
The lilies upward to the surface snow'd,
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And lo! the sun swept shining up the east,
And thro' the cloud of birds, and on the lake,
Shot sudden rays of light miraculous,—
Until the goddess veil'd her dazzled eyes,
And with the heaving whiteness at her feet
Her bosom heaved, till of that tremulous life
She seem'd a throbbing part!
Tall by the marge
The goddess tower'd, and her immortal face
Was shining as anointed; then she cried,
‘Balder!’ and like the faint cry of a bird
That passeth overhead, the sound was borne
Between the burning ether and the earth.
Then once again she called, outstretching arms,
‘Balder!’ Upon her face the summer light
Trembled in benediction, while the voice
Was lifted up and echoed till it died
Far off amid the forest silences.
The goddess tower'd, and her immortal face
Was shining as anointed; then she cried,
‘Balder!’ and like the faint cry of a bird
That passeth overhead, the sound was borne
Between the burning ether and the earth.
Then once again she called, outstretching arms,
‘Balder!’ Upon her face the summer light
Trembled in benediction, while the voice
Was lifted up and echoed till it died
Far off amid the forest silences.
A space she paused, smiling and listening,
Gazing upon the lilies as they rose
Large, luminously fair, and new-baptized;
And once again she would have call'd aloud,
When far across the waters suddenly
There shone a light as of the morning star;
Which coming nearer seem'd as some bright bird
Floating amid the lilies and their leaves,
And presently, approaching closer still,
Assumed the likeness of a shining shape,
Who, with white shoulders from the waters reaching,
And sunlight burning on his golden hair,
Swam like a swan. Upon his naked arms
The amber light was melted, while they clove
The crystal depths and softly swept aside
The glittering lilies and their clustering leaves;
And on the forehead of him burnt serene
A light as of a pearl more wonderful
Than ever from the crimson seas of Ind
Was snatch'd by human hand; for pearl it seem'd,
Tho' blood-red, and as lustrous as a star.
Him Frea breathless watch'd, for all the air
Was golden with his glory as he came;
And o'er his head the bird-cloud hover'd bright
With murmurs deep; and thro' the lake he swam
With arm-sweeps swift, till in the shallows bright,
Still dripping from the kisses of the waves,
He rose erect in loveliness divine.
The lustre from his ivory arms and limbs
Stream'd as he stood, and from his yellow hair
A glory rain'd upon his neck and breast,
While burning unextinguish'd on his brow
Shone that strange star.
Gazing upon the lilies as they rose
Large, luminously fair, and new-baptized;
And once again she would have call'd aloud,
When far across the waters suddenly
There shone a light as of the morning star;
Which coming nearer seem'd as some bright bird
Floating amid the lilies and their leaves,
And presently, approaching closer still,
Assumed the likeness of a shining shape,
Who, with white shoulders from the waters reaching,
And sunlight burning on his golden hair,
Swam like a swan. Upon his naked arms
The amber light was melted, while they clove
The crystal depths and softly swept aside
The glittering lilies and their clustering leaves;
And on the forehead of him burnt serene
A light as of a pearl more wonderful
Than ever from the crimson seas of Ind
Was snatch'd by human hand; for pearl it seem'd,
Tho' blood-red, and as lustrous as a star.
Him Frea breathless watch'd, for all the air
Was golden with his glory as he came;
And o'er his head the bird-cloud hover'd bright
With murmurs deep; and thro' the lake he swam
With arm-sweeps swift, till in the shallows bright,
Still dripping from the kisses of the waves,
He rose erect in loveliness divine.
The lustre from his ivory arms and limbs
Stream'd as he stood, and from his yellow hair
A glory rain'd upon his neck and breast,
While burning unextinguish'd on his brow
Shone that strange star.
Then as he shining rose,
And on her form the new effulgence fell,
The goddess, with her face beatified,
Yet gentle as a mortal mother's, cried
‘Balder! my Balder!’—and while from all the woods,
And from the waters wide, and from the air
Still rainbow'd with the flashing flight of birds,
Innumerable echoes answer'd, ‘Balder!’—
Clad in his gentle godhead Balder stood,
Bright, beautiful, and palpably divine.
And on her form the new effulgence fell,
The goddess, with her face beatified,
Yet gentle as a mortal mother's, cried
‘Balder! my Balder!’—and while from all the woods,
And from the waters wide, and from the air
Still rainbow'd with the flashing flight of birds,
Innumerable echoes answer'd, ‘Balder!’—
Clad in his gentle godhead Balder stood,
Bright, beautiful, and palpably divine.
II. The Shadow in the Wood.
‘Mother!’ he said, and on that mother's face
Fixing the brightness of his starry eyes,
He kiss'd her, smiling. E'en as sunlight falls
Upon the whiteness of some western cloud,
Irradiating and illuming it,
His beauty smote her sadness: silently
She trembled; and her large immortal orbs
Were raised to heaven. For a space she stood
O'er-master'd by that splendour, but at last,
While softly from her forehead and her cheeks
The loving rapture ebb'd, and once again
Her face grew alabaster calm and cold,
Her soul found speech.
Fixing the brightness of his starry eyes,
He kiss'd her, smiling. E'en as sunlight falls
Upon the whiteness of some western cloud,
Irradiating and illuming it,
His beauty smote her sadness: silently
She trembled; and her large immortal orbs
Were raised to heaven. For a space she stood
O'er-master'd by that splendour, but at last,
While softly from her forehead and her cheeks
The loving rapture ebb'd, and once again
Her face grew alabaster calm and cold,
Her soul found speech.
‘O Balder! best beloved!
God of the sunlight and the summer stars,
White Shepherd of the gentle beasts and birds,
Benign-eyed watcher of all beauteous things,
Thou know'st me! thou rememberest! thou art here,
Supreme, a god, my Son!—Within thine eyes
Immortal innocence and mortal peace
Are blent to love and gentleness divine;
And tho' I left thee in these woods a babe,
Fair and unconscious as a fallen flower,
And tho' I have not watch'd thy beauty grow,
I come again to seek thee, and behold
Thou know'st me—thou rememberest! thou art here,
Supreme, a god, my Son! Blest be those powers
To whose lone keeping I committed thee!
The heavens have shone upon thee, and the boughs
Have curtain'd thee for slumber, and the rain
Hath smooth'd thy soft limbs with its silvern fingers,
And gently ministrant to thee have been
The starlight and the moonlight and the dew,
And in their seasons all the forest flowers;
And from the crimson of divine deep dawns
And from the flush of setting suns, thy cheeks
Have gather'd such a splendour as appals
The vision, even mine. Balder! beloved!
Speak to me! tell me how thy soul hath fared
Alone so long in these green solitudes.’
God of the sunlight and the summer stars,
White Shepherd of the gentle beasts and birds,
Benign-eyed watcher of all beauteous things,
435
Supreme, a god, my Son!—Within thine eyes
Immortal innocence and mortal peace
Are blent to love and gentleness divine;
And tho' I left thee in these woods a babe,
Fair and unconscious as a fallen flower,
And tho' I have not watch'd thy beauty grow,
I come again to seek thee, and behold
Thou know'st me—thou rememberest! thou art here,
Supreme, a god, my Son! Blest be those powers
To whose lone keeping I committed thee!
The heavens have shone upon thee, and the boughs
Have curtain'd thee for slumber, and the rain
Hath smooth'd thy soft limbs with its silvern fingers,
And gently ministrant to thee have been
The starlight and the moonlight and the dew,
And in their seasons all the forest flowers;
And from the crimson of divine deep dawns
And from the flush of setting suns, thy cheeks
Have gather'd such a splendour as appals
The vision, even mine. Balder! beloved!
Speak to me! tell me how thy soul hath fared
Alone so long in these green solitudes.’
She ceased, and Balder smiled again, and took
Her hand and held it as he answer'd her;
And ne'er was sound of falling summer showers
On boughs with lilac laden and with rose,
Or cuckoo-cries o'er emerald uplands heard,
Or musical murmurs of dark summer dawns,
More sweet than Balder's voice. ‘O Mother, Mother,’
It answer'd, ‘when I saw thee from afar,
Silent, stone-still, with shadow at thy feet,
I knew thee well, for nightly evermore
I have seen thy shape in sleep.’ And while the face
Of the great goddess kindled once again
With its maternal love ineffable,
He added, ‘Thou shalt read me all my dream!
For in a dream here have I grown and thriven,
With such dim rapture as those lilies feel
Awakening and uprising mystically
From darkness to the brightness of the air;
And growing in a dream I have beheld
All things grow gladder with me, sun and star,
Strange fronds, and all the wonders of the wood;
Till round me, with me, soul and part of me,
This world hath kindled like an opening rose.
And happy had I been as any bird
Singing full-throated in the summer light,
But for some dark and broken images
Which come to me in sleep—yea come each night
When from the starlight and the silvern moon
I fade with closëd eyes. But thou art here,
And in the love of thy celestial looks
I read the answer to the mystery
Of my dim earthly being.’
Her hand and held it as he answer'd her;
And ne'er was sound of falling summer showers
On boughs with lilac laden and with rose,
Or cuckoo-cries o'er emerald uplands heard,
Or musical murmurs of dark summer dawns,
More sweet than Balder's voice. ‘O Mother, Mother,’
It answer'd, ‘when I saw thee from afar,
Silent, stone-still, with shadow at thy feet,
I knew thee well, for nightly evermore
I have seen thy shape in sleep.’ And while the face
Of the great goddess kindled once again
With its maternal love ineffable,
He added, ‘Thou shalt read me all my dream!
For in a dream here have I grown and thriven,
With such dim rapture as those lilies feel
Awakening and uprising mystically
From darkness to the brightness of the air;
And growing in a dream I have beheld
All things grow gladder with me, sun and star,
Strange fronds, and all the wonders of the wood;
Till round me, with me, soul and part of me,
This world hath kindled like an opening rose.
And happy had I been as any bird
Singing full-throated in the summer light,
But for some dark and broken images
Which come to me in sleep—yea come each night
When from the starlight and the silvern moon
I fade with closëd eyes. But thou art here,
And in the love of thy celestial looks
I read the answer to the mystery
Of my dim earthly being.’
As he spake,
Across the goddess' face and thro' her frame
There pass'd the wind of an old prophecy,
Bending her downward as a storm-swept bough.
‘In sleep! what shapes have come to thee in sleep?’
She cried, and Balder answer'd, ‘It were long
To tell thee all, my Mother! but meseems
I have dream'd nightly of mysterious forms
White-brow'd like thee and very beautiful—
Strange spirits, each more bright than is a star,
In robes of linen and of whitest wool,
And some all raimentless as leaf or flower,
And in their nakedness the more divine.’
Then Frea smiled and answer'd, ‘That is well—
These, Balder, are thy sisters and my kin,
Less beautiful than thou, yet very fair.’
And Balder said, ‘Ofttimes mine eyes have seen
Great shapes caparison'd in burning gold,
Tall as the tallest pine within these woods,
Who flash'd red brands together, or upheld
Bright cups of ruby, gazing on each other!’
And Frea smiled and said, ‘That too is well—
Those, Balder, are thy brethren and thy peers,
Great gods, yet less than thou.’ Then Balder's voice
Sank lower, saying, ‘Three times in my sleep
I have seen my Father!’
Across the goddess' face and thro' her frame
There pass'd the wind of an old prophecy,
Bending her downward as a storm-swept bough.
‘In sleep! what shapes have come to thee in sleep?’
She cried, and Balder answer'd, ‘It were long
To tell thee all, my Mother! but meseems
I have dream'd nightly of mysterious forms
White-brow'd like thee and very beautiful—
Strange spirits, each more bright than is a star,
In robes of linen and of whitest wool,
And some all raimentless as leaf or flower,
And in their nakedness the more divine.’
Then Frea smiled and answer'd, ‘That is well—
These, Balder, are thy sisters and my kin,
Less beautiful than thou, yet very fair.’
And Balder said, ‘Ofttimes mine eyes have seen
Great shapes caparison'd in burning gold,
Tall as the tallest pine within these woods,
Who flash'd red brands together, or upheld
Bright cups of ruby, gazing on each other!’
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Those, Balder, are thy brethren and thy peers,
Great gods, yet less than thou.’ Then Balder's voice
Sank lower, saying, ‘Three times in my sleep
I have seen my Father!’
Frea's cheek was blanch'd,
And pressing one white hand upon her heart,
‘How seem'd he in thy sleep?’ the goddess sigh'd,
‘Frown'd he or smiled he? speak!’ And Balder said,
In solemn whispers, sinking ever lower,
‘My soul perceived a darkness and a sound
Of many voices wailing, and I seem'd
As one that drifts upon a sunless water,
Amid the washing of a weary rain—
Wet were my locks and dripping, and my limbs
Hung heavily as lead—while wave by wave
I floated to some vapour-shrouded shore.
At last, wash'd in upon the slippery weeds,
I saw before me on a mountain top
One brooding like a cloud; and as a cloud
At first he seem'd, yet ever as I look'd
Grew shapen to an image terrible,
With eyes eternal gazing down at mine.
And as I rose a voice came from the cloud
Like far-off muffled thunder, crying “Balder!
Come hither, my son Balder!”—when in fear
I scream'd and woke, and saw the daylight dance
Golden upon the forests and the meres.’
And pressing one white hand upon her heart,
‘How seem'd he in thy sleep?’ the goddess sigh'd,
‘Frown'd he or smiled he? speak!’ And Balder said,
In solemn whispers, sinking ever lower,
‘My soul perceived a darkness and a sound
Of many voices wailing, and I seem'd
As one that drifts upon a sunless water,
Amid the washing of a weary rain—
Wet were my locks and dripping, and my limbs
Hung heavily as lead—while wave by wave
I floated to some vapour-shrouded shore.
At last, wash'd in upon the slippery weeds,
I saw before me on a mountain top
One brooding like a cloud; and as a cloud
At first he seem'd, yet ever as I look'd
Grew shapen to an image terrible,
With eyes eternal gazing down at mine.
And as I rose a voice came from the cloud
Like far-off muffled thunder, crying “Balder!
Come hither, my son Balder!”—when in fear
I scream'd and woke, and saw the daylight dance
Golden upon the forests and the meres.’
He ceased; and utter pity fill'd his soul
To see across his beauteous Mother's face
The scorching of unutterable pain;
Then thrice the troubled goddess raised her eyes
And gazed up northward where the rose-red shafts
Of dawn were trembling on the cloud-capt towers
Of Asgard; thrice the sorrow master'd her;
But soon her strong soul conquer'd, and she forced
A strange sad look of calm. ‘If that be all,
Take courage—and I do conjure thee now,
Fear not thy Father. If that Father ever
Hath cherish'd dread of thee, the loveliness
Of thy completed godhead shall disarm
His wrath,—yea, win his love.’ Her gentle hand
Clasp'd his with more than mortal tenderness,
And in his eyes she gazed again and drank
The solace of his beauty while the dawn
Encrimson'd both and all the heavens and air,
But Balder trembled shrinking to her side,
And cried, with quick eyes glancing all around,
‘Mother, that is not all!’
To see across his beauteous Mother's face
The scorching of unutterable pain;
Then thrice the troubled goddess raised her eyes
And gazed up northward where the rose-red shafts
Of dawn were trembling on the cloud-capt towers
Of Asgard; thrice the sorrow master'd her;
But soon her strong soul conquer'd, and she forced
A strange sad look of calm. ‘If that be all,
Take courage—and I do conjure thee now,
Fear not thy Father. If that Father ever
Hath cherish'd dread of thee, the loveliness
Of thy completed godhead shall disarm
His wrath,—yea, win his love.’ Her gentle hand
Clasp'd his with more than mortal tenderness,
And in his eyes she gazed again and drank
The solace of his beauty while the dawn
Encrimson'd both and all the heavens and air,
But Balder trembled shrinking to her side,
And cried, with quick eyes glancing all around,
‘Mother, that is not all!’
‘O speak no more,’
The goddess said, ‘if aught else terrible
Thine eyes have vision'd or thy sense hath dream'd,
Speak, speak, no more!’ but Balder answer'd, ‘Mother!
A weight is on my heart, and I must speak.
Last night I dream'd the strangest dream of dreams!
Methought I in the summer woodland walk'd
And pluck'd white daffodils and pansies blue,
And as I went I sang such songs as sing
The spirits of the forest and the stream;
And presently the golden light went in,
But balmy darkness follow'd, for the rain
Patter'd with diamond dews innumerable
On the green roof of umbrage overhead.
I stood and waited, listening. Then methought
I heard a voice from far away—thy voice
It seem'd, my Mother—murmur three times “Balder!”
And as it ceased, there pierced the wood's green heart
A shriek so sharp and shrill that all my blood
Turn'd cold to listen! Suddenly I felt
My brow was damp with chilly drops of rain,
And looking up I saw that every leaf
Had wither'd from the branches overhead,
Leaving them black against a sunless heaven
Of dark and dreary gray. Again I heard
Thy voice moan “Balder,” and methought the boughs
Toss'd their wild arms above and echoed “Balder,”
When lo, the black and miserable rain
Came slower and slower, wavering through the dark,
Till every drop was as a flake of white
Falling upon the ground as light as wool!
And terror seized me, and I felt my heart
Cold as a stone, and from my hands the flowers
Dropt, wither'd, with that whiteness on the ground.
I tried to stir, and could not stir; I sought
To shake the chilly flakes from off my neck,
But could not; and each time I sought to cry.
My cries were frozen in my throat. Now mark!
O mark, my mother, for these things are strange!
As thus I stood, mine eyes were 'ware of One,
A Shape with shadowy arms outspread like wings,
Which, hovering o'er me even as a hawk,
Fix'd on my face its fatal luminous eyes.
O Mother, that wan shape! The forest holds,
In form of beast or bird or glittering snake,
No likeness of its awful lineaments!
For ever as its features seem'd to take
Clearness and semblance, they did fade away
Into a swooning dimness; and it seem'd
Now shapen and now shapeless, blowing amid
The wonder of that wan and sunless shower.
Yet ever as I gazed it gazed again,
And ever circling nearer seem'd in act
To swoop upon me with cold claws and clutch
The heart that flutter'd wildly in my breast.
At last that look became too much to bear:
Answering at last thy scream, I scream'd aloud;
And as I scream'd, I woke—and saw again
The sunlight on the forests and the meres.’
The goddess said, ‘if aught else terrible
Thine eyes have vision'd or thy sense hath dream'd,
Speak, speak, no more!’ but Balder answer'd, ‘Mother!
A weight is on my heart, and I must speak.
Last night I dream'd the strangest dream of dreams!
Methought I in the summer woodland walk'd
And pluck'd white daffodils and pansies blue,
And as I went I sang such songs as sing
The spirits of the forest and the stream;
And presently the golden light went in,
But balmy darkness follow'd, for the rain
Patter'd with diamond dews innumerable
On the green roof of umbrage overhead.
I stood and waited, listening. Then methought
I heard a voice from far away—thy voice
It seem'd, my Mother—murmur three times “Balder!”
And as it ceased, there pierced the wood's green heart
A shriek so sharp and shrill that all my blood
Turn'd cold to listen! Suddenly I felt
My brow was damp with chilly drops of rain,
And looking up I saw that every leaf
Had wither'd from the branches overhead,
Leaving them black against a sunless heaven
Of dark and dreary gray. Again I heard
437
Toss'd their wild arms above and echoed “Balder,”
When lo, the black and miserable rain
Came slower and slower, wavering through the dark,
Till every drop was as a flake of white
Falling upon the ground as light as wool!
And terror seized me, and I felt my heart
Cold as a stone, and from my hands the flowers
Dropt, wither'd, with that whiteness on the ground.
I tried to stir, and could not stir; I sought
To shake the chilly flakes from off my neck,
But could not; and each time I sought to cry.
My cries were frozen in my throat. Now mark!
O mark, my mother, for these things are strange!
As thus I stood, mine eyes were 'ware of One,
A Shape with shadowy arms outspread like wings,
Which, hovering o'er me even as a hawk,
Fix'd on my face its fatal luminous eyes.
O Mother, that wan shape! The forest holds,
In form of beast or bird or glittering snake,
No likeness of its awful lineaments!
For ever as its features seem'd to take
Clearness and semblance, they did fade away
Into a swooning dimness; and it seem'd
Now shapen and now shapeless, blowing amid
The wonder of that wan and sunless shower.
Yet ever as I gazed it gazed again,
And ever circling nearer seem'd in act
To swoop upon me with cold claws and clutch
The heart that flutter'd wildly in my breast.
At last that look became too much to bear:
Answering at last thy scream, I scream'd aloud;
And as I scream'd, I woke—and saw again
The sunlight on the forests and the meres.’
Now ev'n as Balder spake the goddess' face
Was like a shrouded woman's: once again
She gazed at heaven, and her eyes were glazed
With agony and despair, for now she knew
That shape which Balder had beheld in dream
Was he whom mortal man have christen'd Death.
At last she spake, and all her proud soul flash'd,
Rebuking its own terror. ‘Unto all,
Yea even unto gods upon their thrones,
Such shadows come in sleep; thy Father even
Hath had his visions, and I too have mine;
But be of comfort since thou art my Son,
For he who hover'd o'er thee in thy dream
Is impotent against the strength of gods.
Haunter is he of this sad nether sphere,
And on the little life of bird and beast,
And on the life of flowers and falling leaves,
His breath comes chill, but to the Shapes divine
He is as wind that bloweth afar below
The silence of the peaks.’
Was like a shrouded woman's: once again
She gazed at heaven, and her eyes were glazed
With agony and despair, for now she knew
That shape which Balder had beheld in dream
Was he whom mortal man have christen'd Death.
At last she spake, and all her proud soul flash'd,
Rebuking its own terror. ‘Unto all,
Yea even unto gods upon their thrones,
Such shadows come in sleep; thy Father even
Hath had his visions, and I too have mine;
But be of comfort since thou art my Son,
For he who hover'd o'er thee in thy dream
Is impotent against the strength of gods.
Haunter is he of this sad nether sphere,
And on the little life of bird and beast,
And on the life of flowers and falling leaves,
His breath comes chill, but to the Shapes divine
He is as wind that bloweth afar below
The silence of the peaks.’
Ev'n as she spake,
On her bright Balder gazed not, but with eyes
Fix'd as in fascination, cried aloud
‘Look! look!’—and pointed.
On her bright Balder gazed not, but with eyes
Fix'd as in fascination, cried aloud
‘Look! look!’—and pointed.
Close to that bright spot
Whereon they stood in the full flame of day,
The forest open'd, flashing green and gold,
Sparkling with quick and rapturous thrill of leaves
And rainbow-flush of flowers. Upon a bough
That reach'd its heavy-laden emerald arm
Into the summer light beyond the shade,
There clung, with panting breast and fluttering wings,
A trembling ringdove whose soft iris'd eyes
Were fix'd like Balder's on some shape of dread
Just visible in the shadow, lying low
Under the scented umbrage of the wood.
A Form, yet indistinct as the green sheen;
A Face, yet featureless; a head with eyes
Now faint as drops of dew, now strangely bright
As lustrous gems. Crouch'd on the under-grass,
It watch'd in serpent fashion every thrill
Of that bright bird; while all around, the air
Was mad and merry with the summer song
Of choirs that sat alive on leafy boughs,
Singing aloud!
Whereon they stood in the full flame of day,
The forest open'd, flashing green and gold,
Sparkling with quick and rapturous thrill of leaves
And rainbow-flush of flowers. Upon a bough
That reach'd its heavy-laden emerald arm
Into the summer light beyond the shade,
There clung, with panting breast and fluttering wings,
A trembling ringdove whose soft iris'd eyes
Were fix'd like Balder's on some shape of dread
Just visible in the shadow, lying low
Under the scented umbrage of the wood.
A Form, yet indistinct as the green sheen;
A Face, yet featureless; a head with eyes
Now faint as drops of dew, now strangely bright
As lustrous gems. Crouch'd on the under-grass,
It watch'd in serpent fashion every thrill
438
Was mad and merry with the summer song
Of choirs that sat alive on leafy boughs,
Singing aloud!
Then came a hush, wherein
Every faint pulse of life in those great woods
Was heard to beat; and then the fated bird
Cooing and quivering fluttered from the bough,
And 'mid the summer sheen beyond the shade,
With one last dying tremor of the wings,
Lay stricken still. . . . Among the darkening leaves
There was a stir, as creeping thro' the gloom,
Scarce visible, fixing eyes on that dead dove,
Forth from his lair the form began to crawl.
And Balder sicken'd, and his sense grew cold.
But with a queenly gesture Frea rose,
And pointed with her white imperious hand
Into the forest. Suddenly the shape
Was 'ware of that pale goddess and her son
More beauteous and insufferably bright.
A moment in the dimness of his lair
He paused, uprearing, as in act to spring,
A head half human, with a serpent's eyes;
Then, conscious of some presence that he feared,
All swift and silent, like a startled snake,
He faded back into the shadowy woods.
Every faint pulse of life in those great woods
Was heard to beat; and then the fated bird
Cooing and quivering fluttered from the bough,
And 'mid the summer sheen beyond the shade,
With one last dying tremor of the wings,
Lay stricken still. . . . Among the darkening leaves
There was a stir, as creeping thro' the gloom,
Scarce visible, fixing eyes on that dead dove,
Forth from his lair the form began to crawl.
And Balder sicken'd, and his sense grew cold.
But with a queenly gesture Frea rose,
And pointed with her white imperious hand
Into the forest. Suddenly the shape
Was 'ware of that pale goddess and her son
More beauteous and insufferably bright.
A moment in the dimness of his lair
He paused, uprearing, as in act to spring,
A head half human, with a serpent's eyes;
Then, conscious of some presence that he feared,
All swift and silent, like a startled snake,
He faded back into the shadowy woods.
III. Full Godhead.
O whither are they wending side by side
Thro' that green forest wide?
Down the deep dingles, amid ferns and flowers,
They wander hours and hours.
Bright-lock'd, with limbs of alabaster white,
Now gleaming in the light,
Now 'mong the dusky umbrage of the glade
Deep'ning to amber shade,
Their eyes on one another, whither away
Do these Immortals stray?
She murmurs, ‘Thou shalt mark all things that be;
The rivers and the sea,
The mountains that for ever crimson'd lie
Against the arctic sky,
The meteors that across the pale pole flit,
Strangely illuming it;
And thou shalt look on gods, thy kin and mine,
Since thou too art divine.’
Divine!—The forest glimmers where he goes
To crimson and to rose!
And wheresoe'er he comes no creature fears;
Each lingers, sees, and hears.
The boughs bend down to touch his yellow hair;
Around his white feet bare
The grass waves amorous; on his shoulder white
The singing birds alight,
Singing the sweeter; and in spaces clear
The brown-eyed dappled deer
With tremulous ear and tail around him stand,
Licking his outstretch'd hand
With warm rough tongues. He sings—all things around
Are husht to hear the sound!
He smiles—all things are smiling—wood and stream
With some new glory gleam,
Dark branches blossom, and the greensward nigh
Is sunnier than the sky!
Thro' that green forest wide?
Down the deep dingles, amid ferns and flowers,
They wander hours and hours.
Bright-lock'd, with limbs of alabaster white,
Now gleaming in the light,
Now 'mong the dusky umbrage of the glade
Deep'ning to amber shade,
Their eyes on one another, whither away
Do these Immortals stray?
She murmurs, ‘Thou shalt mark all things that be;
The rivers and the sea,
The mountains that for ever crimson'd lie
Against the arctic sky,
The meteors that across the pale pole flit,
Strangely illuming it;
And thou shalt look on gods, thy kin and mine,
Since thou too art divine.’
Divine!—The forest glimmers where he goes
To crimson and to rose!
And wheresoe'er he comes no creature fears;
Each lingers, sees, and hears.
The boughs bend down to touch his yellow hair;
Around his white feet bare
The grass waves amorous; on his shoulder white
The singing birds alight,
Singing the sweeter; and in spaces clear
The brown-eyed dappled deer
With tremulous ear and tail around him stand,
Licking his outstretch'd hand
With warm rough tongues. He sings—all things around
Are husht to hear the sound!
He smiles—all things are smiling—wood and stream
With some new glory gleam,
Dark branches blossom, and the greensward nigh
Is sunnier than the sky!
She murmurs, ‘They have cherish'd thee indeed,
In answer to thy need.
Ere thou wast born, into thy veins they grew,
Earth, sunlight, air, and dew,
The flower, the leaf, star's glimmer and bird's song;
And these have made thee strong
With other strength than ours; for ne'er till now,
On any immortal brow
Have I beheld such living splendour shine
As lies this hour on thine.
O sunbeam of the gods! O fairer far
Than ev'n Immortals are!
Divinest, gentlest, by the glad Earth given
To be a lamp in heaven!’
Divine!—The boughs shook down their shafts of green
And gleam'd to golden sheen;
The silvern snake stole from the dark treeroot
And twined round Balder's foot
With happy eyes; the tiger-moth and bee
About him hover'd free;
With yellow aureole his head was crown'd,
And his bright body around
There swam a robe of sunshine scented sweet,
Clothing him head to feet.
In answer to thy need.
Ere thou wast born, into thy veins they grew,
Earth, sunlight, air, and dew,
The flower, the leaf, star's glimmer and bird's song;
And these have made thee strong
With other strength than ours; for ne'er till now,
On any immortal brow
Have I beheld such living splendour shine
As lies this hour on thine.
O sunbeam of the gods! O fairer far
Than ev'n Immortals are!
Divinest, gentlest, by the glad Earth given
To be a lamp in heaven!’
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And gleam'd to golden sheen;
The silvern snake stole from the dark treeroot
And twined round Balder's foot
With happy eyes; the tiger-moth and bee
About him hover'd free;
With yellow aureole his head was crown'd,
And his bright body around
There swam a robe of sunshine scented sweet,
Clothing him head to feet.
She crieth, ‘Could the Father see thee there,
While on thy silken hair
The soft. light trembles like a shining hand!
Couldst thou before him stand,
Flowers round thy feet, a dove upon thy wrist,
Earth-blest and heaven-kist,
Would he not smile? would he not scorn full soon
The wearily woven rune
Which said that sorrow should be born when thou
Didst break with orient brow
The night-cloud of the Earth? O Son! my Son!
The crimson thread is spun,
The snow-white bud is blown, and now, behold!
The branch with fruit of gold
Hath grown full straight and swings i' the summer shine
Ineffably divine.’
While on thy silken hair
The soft. light trembles like a shining hand!
Couldst thou before him stand,
Flowers round thy feet, a dove upon thy wrist,
Earth-blest and heaven-kist,
Would he not smile? would he not scorn full soon
The wearily woven rune
Which said that sorrow should be born when thou
Didst break with orient brow
The night-cloud of the Earth? O Son! my Son!
The crimson thread is spun,
The snow-white bud is blown, and now, behold!
The branch with fruit of gold
Hath grown full straight and swings i' the summer shine
Ineffably divine.’
He questions, ‘Whither go we?’ She replies,
‘To that dim Land which lies
Ev'n as a cloud around the Father's feet!’
He smiles, his pulses beat
With brighter rapture. ‘Shall mine eyes then see
My Father?’ crieth he;
‘Where dwells he? and my brethren, where dwell they?’
She answereth, ‘Far away!’
Then, her face darken'd by some dreamy dread,
She moves with sadder tread.
‘To that dim Land which lies
Ev'n as a cloud around the Father's feet!’
He smiles, his pulses beat
With brighter rapture. ‘Shall mine eyes then see
My Father?’ crieth he;
‘Where dwells he? and my brethren, where dwell they?’
She answereth, ‘Far away!’
Then, her face darken'd by some dreamy dread,
She moves with sadder tread.
The shadows grow around them as they stray
From glade to glade; their way
Winds still 'mong flowers and leaves, where day and night,
Both sleepless and both bright,
One golden and one silvern, come and go.
Nor, when dark twilights sow
Their asphodels in the broad fields of blue,
And a cold summer dew
Gleams on the grass, and moths with fiery eyes
Flit, and the night-jar cries,
Doth Balder glimmer less divine. Ah, nay!
Dim things that know not day
Find him and love him; drinking his pure breath
The white owl hovereth;
About his footprints in the faint moon-ray
Wild lynxes leap and play;
The ringdoves on the branches brood; meek hares
Creep from their grassy lairs
To look upon him. So he goeth by
Of all things that descry
Beloved, and missed; around him like a veil
The moonbeams cluster pale,
And all the eyes of heaven with soft dews swim,
As they gaze down on him.
From glade to glade; their way
Winds still 'mong flowers and leaves, where day and night,
Both sleepless and both bright,
One golden and one silvern, come and go.
Nor, when dark twilights sow
Their asphodels in the broad fields of blue,
And a cold summer dew
Gleams on the grass, and moths with fiery eyes
Flit, and the night-jar cries,
Doth Balder glimmer less divine. Ah, nay!
Dim things that know not day
Find him and love him; drinking his pure breath
The white owl hovereth;
About his footprints in the faint moon-ray
Wild lynxes leap and play;
The ringdoves on the branches brood; meek hares
Creep from their grassy lairs
To look upon him. So he goeth by
Of all things that descry
Beloved, and missed; around him like a veil
The moonbeams cluster pale,
And all the eyes of heaven with soft dews swim,
As they gaze down on him.
But now they leave the mighty woods, and pass
Thro' valleys of deep grass,
Sprinkled with saxifrage and tormentil;
And many a mountain rill
Leaps by them, singing. Far away, on high,
They mark against the sky
Blue-shadow'd mountains crown'd with sparkling snow;
And thitherward they go.
Thro' valleys of deep grass,
Sprinkled with saxifrage and tormentil;
And many a mountain rill
Leaps by them, singing. Far away, on high,
They mark against the sky
Blue-shadow'd mountains crown'd with sparkling snow;
And thitherward they go.
Thro' lonely mountain valleys in whose breast
The white grouse makes its nest,
And where in circles wheel the goshawk keen
And fleet-wing'd peregrine;
Past torrents gashing the dark heathery height
With gleams of hoary white,
Their shining feet now fall, and where they fare
Faint rainbows fill the air
And span the streams; with sound of rippling rain
The cataracts leap amain,
The deer cry from the heights, and all around
Is full of summer sound.
The white grouse makes its nest,
And where in circles wheel the goshawk keen
And fleet-wing'd peregrine;
Past torrents gashing the dark heathery height
With gleams of hoary white,
Their shining feet now fall, and where they fare
Faint rainbows fill the air
440
The cataracts leap amain,
The deer cry from the heights, and all around
Is full of summer sound.
Silent, upon the topmost peak they come,
By precipices dumb
And melancholy rocks girt round; and so
They reach the realms of snow.
Far o'er their heads a hooded eagle wings
In ever-widening rings,
Till in the blinding glory of the day
A speck he fades away.
Then Balder's eyes gaze down. Stretch'd far beneath,
Forest and field and heath,
Netted with silvern threads of springs and streams,
Shine in the summer beams—
And valley after valley farther on
Fades dim into the sun.
By precipices dumb
And melancholy rocks girt round; and so
They reach the realms of snow.
Far o'er their heads a hooded eagle wings
In ever-widening rings,
Till in the blinding glory of the day
A speck he fades away.
Then Balder's eyes gaze down. Stretch'd far beneath,
Forest and field and heath,
Netted with silvern threads of springs and streams,
Shine in the summer beams—
And valley after valley farther on
Fades dim into the sun.
He crieth, ‘Far away methinks I mark
A mighty Forest dark,
Crown'd by a crimson mist; yonder it lies,
Stretching into the skies,
And farther than its darkness nought I see.’
And softly answereth she,
‘O Balder! 'tis the Ocean. Vast and strange,
It changeth without change,
Washing with weary waves for evermore
The dark Earth's silent shore.’
And Balder spake not, but he gazed again
Thro' the soft mist of rain
Which curtain'd that new wonder from his sight.
A mighty Forest dark,
Crown'd by a crimson mist; yonder it lies,
Stretching into the skies,
And farther than its darkness nought I see.’
And softly answereth she,
‘O Balder! 'tis the Ocean. Vast and strange,
It changeth without change,
Washing with weary waves for evermore
The dark Earth's silent shore.’
And Balder spake not, but he gazed again
Thro' the soft mist of rain
Which curtain'd that new wonder from his sight.
At last, when day and night
Have passed, they cross a purple cape and stand
On shores of golden sand,
And pausing silent, see beneath the sky
The mighty Ocean lie.
Have passed, they cross a purple cape and stand
On shores of golden sand,
And pausing silent, see beneath the sky
The mighty Ocean lie.
IV. The Man by the Ocean.
Calmly it lieth, limitless and deep,
In windless summer sleep,
And from its fringe, cream-white and set with shells,
A drowsy murmur swells,
While in its shallows, on its yellow sands,
Smiling, uplifting hands,
Moves Balder, beckoning with bright looks and words
The snow-white ocean-birds.
He smiles—the heavens smile answer! All the sea
Is glistering glassily.
Far out, blue-black amid the waters dim,
Leviathan doth swim,
Spouts fountain-wise, roars loud, then sinking slow,
Seeks the green depths below.
All silent. All things sleeping in the light,
And all most calmly bright!
In windless summer sleep,
And from its fringe, cream-white and set with shells,
A drowsy murmur swells,
While in its shallows, on its yellow sands,
Smiling, uplifting hands,
Moves Balder, beckoning with bright looks and words
The snow-white ocean-birds.
He smiles—the heavens smile answer! All the sea
Is glistering glassily.
Far out, blue-black amid the waters dim,
Leviathan doth swim,
Spouts fountain-wise, roars loud, then sinking slow,
Seeks the green depths below.
All silent. All things sleeping in the light,
And all most calmly bright!
He walks the weed-strewn strand, and where the waves
Creep into granite caves,
Green-paven, silver-fretted, roof'd with rose,
He like a sunbeam goes,
And ocean-creatures know him. The black seal
Out of the darkness steal
With gentle bleat, or with their lambs arise,
Their dark and dewy eyes
Uplooking into his; the cormorants green,
Which ranged in black rows preen
Their dusky plumage, at his footstep's sound
Turn snake-like necks around,
But rise not; o'er his head the white terns fly
With shrill unceasing cry;
And out of caverns come the rock-doves fleet,
Alighting at his feet!
Across the waters darts a shaft supreme
Of strange and heavenly gleam,
That doth his consecrated form enfold
Like to a robe of gold,—
While all the Ocean gladdeneth anew,
Stretch'd bright beneath the blue.
Creep into granite caves,
Green-paven, silver-fretted, roof'd with rose,
He like a sunbeam goes,
And ocean-creatures know him. The black seal
Out of the darkness steal
With gentle bleat, or with their lambs arise,
Their dark and dewy eyes
Uplooking into his; the cormorants green,
Which ranged in black rows preen
Their dusky plumage, at his footstep's sound
Turn snake-like necks around,
But rise not; o'er his head the white terns fly
With shrill unceasing cry;
And out of caverns come the rock-doves fleet,
Alighting at his feet!
Across the waters darts a shaft supreme
Of strange and heavenly gleam,
That doth his consecrated form enfold
Like to a robe of gold,—
While all the Ocean gladdeneth anew,
Stretch'd bright beneath the blue.
But what is this he findeth on his way,
Here, where the golden ray
Falleth on sands 'neath crimson crags that rise
Dark 'gainst the great blue skies?
What is this shape that, breathing soft and deep,
Lies on its side asleep,
Here on the strand where drifted sea-weeds cling?
Is it some occan thing.
Crept from the emerald darkness of the brine
To bask i' the summer shine?
Is it some gentle monster whose green home
Lies far below the foam?
Softly he sleeps, while on his closëd eyes
The summer sunlight lies;
Around his face, that seemeth wildly fair,
Hang tawny locks of hair,
On dusky shoulders falling loosely down;
And lo, his cheeks are brown
With kisses of the sun, and round his limbs
A light like amber swims
Divinely clear; and by his side is thrown
A spear of walrus-bone,
A bear-skin blanket, and a seal-hide thong;
So sleeps he, brown and strong;
And nought that lieth upon land or sea
Seemeth more strange than he,
Like some wild birth of ocean wash'd to land,
And cast upon the sand
With many a drifting weed and waif beside.
Here, where the golden ray
Falleth on sands 'neath crimson crags that rise
Dark 'gainst the great blue skies?
What is this shape that, breathing soft and deep,
Lies on its side asleep,
Here on the strand where drifted sea-weeds cling?
Is it some occan thing.
441
To bask i' the summer shine?
Is it some gentle monster whose green home
Lies far below the foam?
Softly he sleeps, while on his closëd eyes
The summer sunlight lies;
Around his face, that seemeth wildly fair,
Hang tawny locks of hair,
On dusky shoulders falling loosely down;
And lo, his cheeks are brown
With kisses of the sun, and round his limbs
A light like amber swims
Divinely clear; and by his side is thrown
A spear of walrus-bone,
A bear-skin blanket, and a seal-hide thong;
So sleeps he, brown and strong;
And nought that lieth upon land or sea
Seemeth more strange than he,
Like some wild birth of ocean wash'd to land,
And cast upon the sand
With many a drifting weed and waif beside.
‘O Mother!’ Balder cried,
Suddenly falling on his bended knee,
‘What shape is this I see?
It sleeps—it breathes—it lives!’ And Frea said,
Scarce turning her proud head,
‘It is a mortal man not worth thy care!
Ev'n as the birds of the air
They are born, they gladden, and they come and go.’
But Balder, stooping low,
Passing soft fingers o'er the sleeper's side,
And smiling sweetly, cried,
‘Awake, awake!’ and gently from the strand
He raised one strong brown hand.
‘Hush!’ said the pallid goddess, sighing deep,
‘Lest he awake from sleep,
And touch him not, lest from his mortal breath
Thou know'st the taint of Death.’
‘Death!’ Balder echoed with a quick sharp pain;
And Frea spake again,
‘Nought on this nether sphere which foster'd thee,
But drinks mortality;
Fade not the leaf, the lily, and the rose?
Yea, and the oak-tree knows
Only its season;—in their seasons all
Are fashion'd, fade, and fall—
Birds on the boughs, and beasts within the brake,
Yea, ev'n the hawk and snake,
Are born to perish; and this creature shares
An earthly lot like theirs.’
She paused; for suddenly in the bright sun-ray
God Balder's cheeks grew gray
And sunken—his eyes dim;—a moment's space
Across his troubled face
Pass'd darkness. Frea quail'd. A moment more,
And that strange shade pass'd o'er,
And Balder's looks again grew beautiful.
Suddenly falling on his bended knee,
‘What shape is this I see?
It sleeps—it breathes—it lives!’ And Frea said,
Scarce turning her proud head,
‘It is a mortal man not worth thy care!
Ev'n as the birds of the air
They are born, they gladden, and they come and go.’
But Balder, stooping low,
Passing soft fingers o'er the sleeper's side,
And smiling sweetly, cried,
‘Awake, awake!’ and gently from the strand
He raised one strong brown hand.
‘Hush!’ said the pallid goddess, sighing deep,
‘Lest he awake from sleep,
And touch him not, lest from his mortal breath
Thou know'st the taint of Death.’
‘Death!’ Balder echoed with a quick sharp pain;
And Frea spake again,
‘Nought on this nether sphere which foster'd thee,
But drinks mortality;
Fade not the leaf, the lily, and the rose?
Yea, and the oak-tree knows
Only its season;—in their seasons all
Are fashion'd, fade, and fall—
Birds on the boughs, and beasts within the brake,
Yea, ev'n the hawk and snake,
Are born to perish; and this creature shares
An earthly lot like theirs.’
She paused; for suddenly in the bright sun-ray
God Balder's cheeks grew gray
And sunken—his eyes dim;—a moment's space
Across his troubled face
Pass'd darkness. Frea quail'd. A moment more,
And that strange shade pass'd o'er,
And Balder's looks again grew beautiful.
O'erhead, as white as wool,
The calm clouds melted in the burning blue;
Beneath, the great seas grew
Stiller and calmer, while the immortal one
Stood dreaming in the sun,
On that dark sleeper fixing eyes grown bright
With heavenly love and light.
The calm clouds melted in the burning blue;
Beneath, the great seas grew
Stiller and calmer, while the immortal one
Stood dreaming in the sun,
On that dark sleeper fixing eyes grown bright
With heavenly love and light.
‘O come!’ the goddess cried, and took his hand.
Along the shining strand
They pass'd, but evermore god Balder's face
Turn'd backward to the place
Where he had left the weary wight asleep.
Along the shining strand
They pass'd, but evermore god Balder's face
Turn'd backward to the place
Where he had left the weary wight asleep.
Then, as beside the Deep
They wander'd slowly onward, Frea told
Strange tales and legends old
Of living men, and how they came to be,
And how they bend the knee
To gods they know not, till beneath the sun
They die, and all is done.
They wander'd slowly onward, Frea told
Strange tales and legends old
Of living men, and how they came to be,
And how they bend the knee
To gods they know not, till beneath the sun
They die, and all is done.
And ever her finger pointed as she spoke
To wreaths of light-blue smoke
Upcurling heavenward o'er the sleeping seas
From fishing villages.
Love in his heart and wonder on his brow,
Bright Balder hearken'd now
In silence. ‘Far beyond those lonely woods
And these sea-solitudes,
Peopling the dark Earth, living forms ilke these
Gather as thick as bees:—
Shapen like gods, yet perishable; born
For ever night and morn,
And night and morn for ever vanishing.
An old dark doom doth cling
Around them and all kindred things that bloom
Out of the green world's womb.
Heed them not thou! To gods they are no more
Than singing birds that soar
A little flight, and fall. Tho' for a space,
Rear'd in a lowly place,
Thou hast known, as mortals know, Earth's shade and shine,
Another lot is thine!—
To sit among the gods, on heights supreme,
Beyond Man's guess or dream!’
To wreaths of light-blue smoke
Upcurling heavenward o'er the sleeping seas
From fishing villages.
Love in his heart and wonder on his brow,
Bright Balder hearken'd now
In silence. ‘Far beyond those lonely woods
And these sea-solitudes,
Peopling the dark Earth, living forms ilke these
Gather as thick as bees:—
442
For ever night and morn,
And night and morn for ever vanishing.
An old dark doom doth cling
Around them and all kindred things that bloom
Out of the green world's womb.
Heed them not thou! To gods they are no more
Than singing birds that soar
A little flight, and fall. Tho' for a space,
Rear'd in a lowly place,
Thou hast known, as mortals know, Earth's shade and shine,
Another lot is thine!—
To sit among the gods, on heights supreme,
Beyond Man's guess or dream!’
III. THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY.
I. The Goddesses.
There is a valley by the northern sea,
O'ershadow'd softly by eternal hills
And canopied by the ethereal blue,
Above it silently for ever gleam
Cold peaks of ice and snow, and over these
The wind goes, and the shadows of the wind;
While far below, the hollows of the vale
Are strewn most deep with heather and with thyme,
And weeping willows hang their silken hair
O'er dusky tarns with summer lilies sown;
And from these tarns smooth tracts of greensward slope
Until they blend with silvern sands that kiss
The foam-white lips of the still sleeping sea.
O'ershadow'd softly by eternal hills
And canopied by the ethereal blue,
Above it silently for ever gleam
Cold peaks of ice and snow, and over these
The wind goes, and the shadows of the wind;
While far below, the hollows of the vale
Are strewn most deep with heather and with thyme,
And weeping willows hang their silken hair
O'er dusky tarns with summer lilies sown;
And from these tarns smooth tracts of greensward slope
Until they blend with silvern sands that kiss
The foam-white lips of the still sleeping sea.
Into that valley by a secret way,
The goddess guided her immortal son.
Long had they wander'd, o'er the realms of snow,
Thro' forests vast, down desolate ravines;
And still, where'er they stept, before their feet
A wind of brightness like a river ran,
And rippled softly into grass and flowers,—
So that they walked on rainbows with no rain,
And under heaven made heaven beneath their feet.
At last their path wound upward, while again
They trod the white snows of the topmost peaks,
And saw beneath them, faint and far away,
The secret valley: purple woods of pine,
Crags of wild umbrage lit by flashing falls,
Smooth emerald lawns; and beyond all, the sea.
The goddess guided her immortal son.
Long had they wander'd, o'er the realms of snow,
Thro' forests vast, down desolate ravines;
And still, where'er they stept, before their feet
A wind of brightness like a river ran,
And rippled softly into grass and flowers,—
So that they walked on rainbows with no rain,
And under heaven made heaven beneath their feet.
At last their path wound upward, while again
They trod the white snows of the topmost peaks,
And saw beneath them, faint and far away,
The secret valley: purple woods of pine,
Crags of wild umbrage lit by flashing falls,
Smooth emerald lawns; and beyond all, the sea.
And lo! as Balder gazed, that valley fair
Grew fairer—on its sleep his brightness fell
As benediction—and in saffron light
It swam below him like a sunset cloud.
Down from the lonely heights whereon he stood
A snow-white cataract, like a naked god
With plumes of silver plunging from a peak
Into a purple ocean, headlong flash'd;
Then, lost among the dark green pine-tree tops,
Sounded unseen, mingling its far-off voice
With the deep murmur of the wind-swept boughs.
From rocky shelf to shelf, with golden moss
Enwrought and fringëd with dwarf willow trees,
They now descended in the torrent's track,
And plunging swiftly downward found a path
Thro' the cool darkness of the shadowy woods;
But as they went the dusky forest way
Grew brighter, ever flash'd to softer green
The green leaves, and the sward to sunnier hues,
Till from the leafy umbrage they emerged,
And Balder saw a vision fairer far
Than ever poet fabled in a dream.
Grew fairer—on its sleep his brightness fell
As benediction—and in saffron light
It swam below him like a sunset cloud.
Down from the lonely heights whereon he stood
A snow-white cataract, like a naked god
With plumes of silver plunging from a peak
Into a purple ocean, headlong flash'd;
Then, lost among the dark green pine-tree tops,
Sounded unseen, mingling its far-off voice
With the deep murmur of the wind-swept boughs.
From rocky shelf to shelf, with golden moss
Enwrought and fringëd with dwarf willow trees,
They now descended in the torrent's track,
And plunging swiftly downward found a path
Thro' the cool darkness of the shadowy woods;
But as they went the dusky forest way
Grew brighter, ever flash'd to softer green
The green leaves, and the sward to sunnier hues,
Till from the leafy umbrage they emerged,
And Balder saw a vision fairer far
Than ever poet fabled in a dream.
Beside those waters, on those emerald lawns
Basking in one eternal summer day,
Lay goddesses divine with half-closed eyes
Gazing out seaward on the crimson isles
Sown in the soft haze of the summer deep.
And there they wove white runes to win the hearts
Of gods and men, while o'er their happy heads
Eternity hung steadfast as a star.
Some stretch'd upon the scented greensward lay
Moveless and wonderfully robed in white;
Some sitting silent by the dusky tarns
Look'd upward, with their faces dim as dream;
Some musing stood, their eyes upon the sea,
Their thoughts afar; and many up and down
Along the quiet greensward paced and mused.
There was no laughter as of maiden voices,
No sound like human singing: all was still—
Still as a heartbeat, silent as a sleep.
Basking in one eternal summer day,
Lay goddesses divine with half-closed eyes
Gazing out seaward on the crimson isles
Sown in the soft haze of the summer deep.
And there they wove white runes to win the hearts
Of gods and men, while o'er their happy heads
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Some stretch'd upon the scented greensward lay
Moveless and wonderfully robed in white;
Some sitting silent by the dusky tarns
Look'd upward, with their faces dim as dream;
Some musing stood, their eyes upon the sea,
Their thoughts afar; and many up and down
Along the quiet greensward paced and mused.
There was no laughter as of maiden voices,
No sound like human singing: all was still—
Still as a heartbeat, silent as a sleep.
But when from the green shadow of the woods
Immortal Balder in his beauty came,
And stood irresolute in light divine
Gazing upon that wonder of white life,
There was a cry of startled handmaidens
Flocking round goddesses most marble pale.
All to their feet had risen, and one supreme
Tall shape with mailëd plates upon her breast,
A skirt blood-red, and in her hand a spear,
Stood, while pale virgins crouch'd around her feet,
Confronting Balder with black eyes of fire.
Lithe was she as a serpent, lithe and tall,
Her dark skin glimmering bronzëd in the sun,
Her eyebrows black drawn down, and as the beam
Of Balder's beauty struck upon her frame,
She raised her spear, and seem'd in act to strike;
But Frea, coming stately from the shade,
Cried, ‘Hold!’ and Rota (for 'twas she whose soul
Delights in sowing strife 'mong weary men)
Paused frowning, and the virgins at her feet
Look'd up amazed.
Immortal Balder in his beauty came,
And stood irresolute in light divine
Gazing upon that wonder of white life,
There was a cry of startled handmaidens
Flocking round goddesses most marble pale.
All to their feet had risen, and one supreme
Tall shape with mailëd plates upon her breast,
A skirt blood-red, and in her hand a spear,
Stood, while pale virgins crouch'd around her feet,
Confronting Balder with black eyes of fire.
Lithe was she as a serpent, lithe and tall,
Her dark skin glimmering bronzëd in the sun,
Her eyebrows black drawn down, and as the beam
Of Balder's beauty struck upon her frame,
She raised her spear, and seem'd in act to strike;
But Frea, coming stately from the shade,
Cried, ‘Hold!’ and Rota (for 'twas she whose soul
Delights in sowing strife 'mong weary men)
Paused frowning, and the virgins at her feet
Look'd up amazed.
‘Whom bring'st thou here?’ she cried—
‘What shape is this, with pale blue human eyes,
Yet more than human brightness, venturing
Where never foot of earthborn thing hath fared?’
And Frea answer'd gently, ‘Harm him not!
Nor give him chilly greeting, sister mine—
Kin is he to immortal gods and thee—
'Tis Balder! my son Balder!’ At the word
The wind of that old prophecy arose
And for a moment like a fever'd breath
Faded across those lawns and sleeping pools;
And blown from group to group of whiterobed forms,
From goddess on to goddess, echoed low
The name of ‘Balder,’ till it reached the sands,
And on the far-off foam did die away
In low sad echoes of the mighty main.
‘What shape is this, with pale blue human eyes,
Yet more than human brightness, venturing
Where never foot of earthborn thing hath fared?’
And Frea answer'd gently, ‘Harm him not!
Nor give him chilly greeting, sister mine—
Kin is he to immortal gods and thee—
'Tis Balder! my son Balder!’ At the word
The wind of that old prophecy arose
And for a moment like a fever'd breath
Faded across those lawns and sleeping pools;
And blown from group to group of whiterobed forms,
From goddess on to goddess, echoed low
The name of ‘Balder,’ till it reached the sands,
And on the far-off foam did die away
In low sad echoes of the mighty main.
Then Balder with a heavenly look advancing
Shone on the place, and Rota dropt her spear,
Still darkening, as in wonder and in scorn
She gazed upon him, crying, ‘Then he lives!
Woe to the race of Asa since he lives!
Why comes he here?’ And Balder, with a voice
As sweet as fountains falling, made reply,
‘I seek my sisters and my kin divine,
And thou art of them!’ and he reach'd out hands,
Smiling!
Shone on the place, and Rota dropt her spear,
Still darkening, as in wonder and in scorn
She gazed upon him, crying, ‘Then he lives!
Woe to the race of Asa since he lives!
Why comes he here?’ And Balder, with a voice
As sweet as fountains falling, made reply,
‘I seek my sisters and my kin divine,
And thou art of them!’ and he reach'd out hands,
Smiling!
As Rota stood irresolute,
Half-angry, half-disarm'd by his sweet eyes,
Another shape most fair and wonderful
In snow-white robe array'd thro' which her limbs
Shone with a rosy and celestial ray,
Cried ‘Balder!’ in a voice so strange and deep
It fell upon the fountains of his heart
Like sudden light; and two serene large eyes
Shone clear as clearest stars before his sight.
‘Who speaketh?’ Balder cried, and the deep voice.
Made answer, ‘O thou foster-child of earth,
With eyes like tender harebells, and with flesh
Bright as the body of a mortal man,
Dost thou not know me?—I am Gefion,
Whose touch could make thee fruitful as a tree
That drops ripe fruit at every kiss o' the wind.’
And Balder would have answer'd eagerly,
But Frea now uplifting a white hand
With queenly gesture, raised her voice and said,
‘O sisters! goddesses! O lilies fair
Blown in the still pools of eternity!
Be silent for a space, and for a space
Gaze on my son whom to your bowers I bring
For benediction; now, behold, he lives,
Immortal as yourselves and beautiful
As any star that in the heaven of heavens
Hangs luminous, a lamp for mortal eyes.
Him in the secret furrows of the Earth
I cast like seed, while far away the storm
Flash'd to a portent, and I wove my rune:
That neither wind nor snow nor any touch
Of god or goddess might disturb his growth
From season unto season, while he rose
Ev'n as a flower from the sweet-soilëd earth.
There came unto his making leaf and flower,
The soft rain and the shadow of the rain,
The sundew and the moondew, and the gleam
Of starlight, and the glowlight on the grass.
To secret things my hands committed him,
And strangely he hath thriven since that hour,
Ev'n as a leaf is fashion'd, ev'n as the hair
Of the long grass is woven, wondrously!
And thus, his brow bright with the balms of Earth,
He stands complete, his Father's child, my son.
O look upon him! See his happy eyes!
And tell me that ye love him, and in turn
Will bless him, shielding him upon your breasts
If ever evil hour to him should come.
Oh, that sad rune we fear'd of old is false!
For gentle is he as the gentle things
Which foster'd him, too blest and beautiful
To be a terror or a grief to gods.’
Half-angry, half-disarm'd by his sweet eyes,
Another shape most fair and wonderful
In snow-white robe array'd thro' which her limbs
Shone with a rosy and celestial ray,
Cried ‘Balder!’ in a voice so strange and deep
It fell upon the fountains of his heart
Like sudden light; and two serene large eyes
Shone clear as clearest stars before his sight.
‘Who speaketh?’ Balder cried, and the deep voice.
Made answer, ‘O thou foster-child of earth,
With eyes like tender harebells, and with flesh
Bright as the body of a mortal man,
Dost thou not know me?—I am Gefion,
Whose touch could make thee fruitful as a tree
That drops ripe fruit at every kiss o' the wind.’
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But Frea now uplifting a white hand
With queenly gesture, raised her voice and said,
‘O sisters! goddesses! O lilies fair
Blown in the still pools of eternity!
Be silent for a space, and for a space
Gaze on my son whom to your bowers I bring
For benediction; now, behold, he lives,
Immortal as yourselves and beautiful
As any star that in the heaven of heavens
Hangs luminous, a lamp for mortal eyes.
Him in the secret furrows of the Earth
I cast like seed, while far away the storm
Flash'd to a portent, and I wove my rune:
That neither wind nor snow nor any touch
Of god or goddess might disturb his growth
From season unto season, while he rose
Ev'n as a flower from the sweet-soilëd earth.
There came unto his making leaf and flower,
The soft rain and the shadow of the rain,
The sundew and the moondew, and the gleam
Of starlight, and the glowlight on the grass.
To secret things my hands committed him,
And strangely he hath thriven since that hour,
Ev'n as a leaf is fashion'd, ev'n as the hair
Of the long grass is woven, wondrously!
And thus, his brow bright with the balms of Earth,
He stands complete, his Father's child, my son.
O look upon him! See his happy eyes!
And tell me that ye love him, and in turn
Will bless him, shielding him upon your breasts
If ever evil hour to him should come.
Oh, that sad rune we fear'd of old is false!
For gentle is he as the gentle things
Which foster'd him, too blest and beautiful
To be a terror or a grief to gods.’
She ceased; and Gefion thro' her loosen'd hair
Smiled, and stern Rota's look grew tenderer.
Then, stretch'd her listless length upon the grass,
Her dark face glowing brightly in the sun,
Upon one elbow leaning, sun-tanned Eir
Raised with quick wicked laugh her root and knife,
Saying, ‘O Frea, had I found him there
Fall'n like a flower in the dark arms of Earth,
This knife had made an end; but since he stands
Full-grown and fair, immortal, and thy son,
I bid him welcome!’—As she spake, the eyes
Of Balder fell upon the root and knife,
And lo, the knife gleam'd as a brand of gold,
While the black root, moist with the dews of earth,
Trembled, and blossom'd into light green leaves!
Then trembling, Eir arose, and stood her height,
While gazing full into her troubled eyes,
Bright Balder moved to embrace her silently.
Smiled, and stern Rota's look grew tenderer.
Then, stretch'd her listless length upon the grass,
Her dark face glowing brightly in the sun,
Upon one elbow leaning, sun-tanned Eir
Raised with quick wicked laugh her root and knife,
Saying, ‘O Frea, had I found him there
Fall'n like a flower in the dark arms of Earth,
This knife had made an end; but since he stands
Full-grown and fair, immortal, and thy son,
I bid him welcome!’—As she spake, the eyes
Of Balder fell upon the root and knife,
And lo, the knife gleam'd as a brand of gold,
While the black root, moist with the dews of earth,
Trembled, and blossom'd into light green leaves!
Then trembling, Eir arose, and stood her height,
While gazing full into her troubled eyes,
Bright Balder moved to embrace her silently.
But as he gently came there interposed
A wonder of new brightness,—such a shape,
So perfect in divine white loveliness,
As never mortal yet beheld and lived.
And Balder trembled, and his bosom heaved
With an exceeding sweetness strange and new,
While close to his there came a shining face,
Still as a sunbeam, dimmer than a dream.
And Freya, for 'twas she whose touch is life
To happy lovers and to loveless men
Is sickness and despair, said, breathing warm,
While on her alabaster arms love's light
Was flushing faint as thro' a rose's leaves,
‘Let all my sisters greet thee as they will,
I love thee, Balder! since of lovely things
Thou art the brightest and the loveliest!’
And lo! ere he was ware of her intent,
Unto his cheek she prest a warm red mouth
Kings of great empires would have swoon'd to touch,
And poets heavenly-dower'd would have died
To dream of kissing. Then thro' Balder ran
A new miraculous rapture such as feels
The dark Earth when the scented Summer leaps
Full-blossom'd as a bridegroom to her arms;
Such as musk-roses know when blown apart
By sunbeams in mid-June; and Balder's sense
Swoon'd, and he seem'd strewn o'er with fruit and flowers,
And on his lids were touches like warm rain,
And on his nostrils and his parted lips
Delicious balm and spicy odours fell,
And all his soul was like a young maid's frame
Bathed in the warmth of love's first virgin dream.
A wonder of new brightness,—such a shape,
So perfect in divine white loveliness,
As never mortal yet beheld and lived.
And Balder trembled, and his bosom heaved
With an exceeding sweetness strange and new,
While close to his there came a shining face,
Still as a sunbeam, dimmer than a dream.
And Freya, for 'twas she whose touch is life
To happy lovers and to loveless men
Is sickness and despair, said, breathing warm,
While on her alabaster arms love's light
Was flushing faint as thro' a rose's leaves,
‘Let all my sisters greet thee as they will,
I love thee, Balder! since of lovely things
Thou art the brightest and the loveliest!’
And lo! ere he was ware of her intent,
Unto his cheek she prest a warm red mouth
Kings of great empires would have swoon'd to touch,
And poets heavenly-dower'd would have died
To dream of kissing. Then thro' Balder ran
A new miraculous rapture such as feels
The dark Earth when the scented Summer leaps
Full-blossom'd as a bridegroom to her arms;
445
By sunbeams in mid-June; and Balder's sense
Swoon'd, and he seem'd strewn o'er with fruit and flowers,
And on his lids were touches like warm rain,
And on his nostrils and his parted lips
Delicious balm and spicy odours fell,
And all his soul was like a young maid's frame
Bathed in the warmth of love's first virgin dream.
Then, as he trembled thro' and thro' his form
With the last flush of that celestial fire,
The goddesses around him flocking came,
All giving welcome. Some into his eyes
Gazed in such awe as pallid virgins feel
For some mysterious splendour masculine
They seek yet fear and shrink from as they touch.
For Balder's loveliness in that bright place
Was as the soft sheen of the summer moon
Arising silvern in the cloudless west
Above the sunset seas of orange gold;
And there was trouble in his human eyes
Most melancholy sweet,—trouble like tears,
Of starlight, or the tremor of the dew.
With the last flush of that celestial fire,
The goddesses around him flocking came,
All giving welcome. Some into his eyes
Gazed in such awe as pallid virgins feel
For some mysterious splendour masculine
They seek yet fear and shrink from as they touch.
For Balder's loveliness in that bright place
Was as the soft sheen of the summer moon
Arising silvern in the cloudless west
Above the sunset seas of orange gold;
And there was trouble in his human eyes
Most melancholy sweet,—trouble like tears,
Of starlight, or the tremor of the dew.
II. The Fruit of Life.
They led him to a bank with moss inlaid,
Close to the tranquil mirror of the sea,
And thither came pale ocean handmaidens
Singing to lutes of amber and of pearl,
While ‘Love him, love him,’ cried the goddesses,
‘O love him, love him, he is beautiful!’
But Frea lifted up her hand, and cried,
‘Love is not all—swear against all things ill
To watch him and protect him;’—and they cried,
‘We swear! we swear!’ Then bending over him
With bright black eyeballs burning into his,
Pale Rota touched his forehead with her spear,
Crying ‘Live on! No touch of time shall cause
One wrinkle on thy smooth unruffled brow!’
And Eir, low-laughing, held with tender teeth,
Not bruising the fair skin, his naked arm,
And murmur'd, ‘Strength and subtle force be thine,
Drunk from my breath into thy deepest veins.’
And Gefion, with her large, sad, heavenly eyes
Upgazing in his face, and one white hand
Laid softly on his side, cried, ‘As a tree
Be fruitful! Wheresoe'er thou wanderest,
Fruitage go with thee and a thousand flowers!’
But Freya kiss'd him calmly on the brow,
And whisper'd to him lower than the rest,
‘O Balder! my soul's gift is best of all—
They bring thee life, but I have given thee love.’
Close to the tranquil mirror of the sea,
And thither came pale ocean handmaidens
Singing to lutes of amber and of pearl,
While ‘Love him, love him,’ cried the goddesses,
‘O love him, love him, he is beautiful!’
But Frea lifted up her hand, and cried,
‘Love is not all—swear against all things ill
To watch him and protect him;’—and they cried,
‘We swear! we swear!’ Then bending over him
With bright black eyeballs burning into his,
Pale Rota touched his forehead with her spear,
Crying ‘Live on! No touch of time shall cause
One wrinkle on thy smooth unruffled brow!’
And Eir, low-laughing, held with tender teeth,
Not bruising the fair skin, his naked arm,
And murmur'd, ‘Strength and subtle force be thine,
Drunk from my breath into thy deepest veins.’
And Gefion, with her large, sad, heavenly eyes
Upgazing in his face, and one white hand
Laid softly on his side, cried, ‘As a tree
Be fruitful! Wheresoe'er thou wanderest,
Fruitage go with thee and a thousand flowers!’
But Freya kiss'd him calmly on the brow,
And whisper'd to him lower than the rest,
‘O Balder! my soul's gift is best of all—
They bring thee life, but I have given thee love.’
And Balder sank into a dream. Much joy
Made his sense drowsy, and with happy eyes
He saw that mist of light and loveliness
Enclose him, while he seem'd as one who swims
Among the shallows of an orient sea.
A voice like music woke him, and he saw
Standing before him in light azure robes
A shape that 'midst those others seem'd as dim
And unsubstantial as a summer shade.
Tall was she, and her wondrous sheen of hair
Rain'd downward like the silvern willow's leaves,
And on her mystic raiment blue as heaven
There glimmer'd dewy drops like shining stars.
Pale was she, with the pallor of wan waters
That wash for evermore the cold white feet
Of spectral polar moons; and when she spake,
'Twas low as sea-wash on the starlit sands
And strange and far-away as sounds in sleep.
‘Balder!’ she sigh'd; and like a man who hears,
Upstarting on his bed, some wondrous cry,
Balder upstarted wildly listening.
‘Balder! O brother Balder, whose fair face,
Ere yet I gazed upon it shining here,
I knew thro' dark eternities of dream,
See what I give thee! see what gentle gift
Thy sister Ydun brings thee; more divine
Than life's sweet breath, or the fair flame of love.’
Made his sense drowsy, and with happy eyes
He saw that mist of light and loveliness
Enclose him, while he seem'd as one who swims
Among the shallows of an orient sea.
A voice like music woke him, and he saw
Standing before him in light azure robes
A shape that 'midst those others seem'd as dim
And unsubstantial as a summer shade.
Tall was she, and her wondrous sheen of hair
Rain'd downward like the silvern willow's leaves,
And on her mystic raiment blue as heaven
There glimmer'd dewy drops like shining stars.
Pale was she, with the pallor of wan waters
That wash for evermore the cold white feet
Of spectral polar moons; and when she spake,
'Twas low as sea-wash on the starlit sands
And strange and far-away as sounds in sleep.
‘Balder!’ she sigh'd; and like a man who hears,
Upstarting on his bed, some wondrous cry,
Balder upstarted wildly listening.
‘Balder! O brother Balder, whose fair face,
Ere yet I gazed upon it shining here,
I knew thro' dark eternities of dream,
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Thy sister Ydun brings thee; more divine
Than life's sweet breath, or the fair flame of love.’
So saying, from her veilëd breast she drew
Mystical apples like to diamond seeds,
So small to seeming that a score might lie
In the pink hollow of an infant's hand.
Each shone complete and pure as mother-o'-pearl
Touch'd with prismat'c gleams of wondrous light,
And unto each on the scarce visible stem
There clung two perfect little leaves of gold.
This secret fruit the gods and goddesses
For ever feed on, evermore renewed;
And in a garden desolate and dim
Wash'd by the wild green sea of human graves,
Pale Ydun plucks it, and none other may.
‘Eat!’ Ydun murmur'd—‘Balder, eat and live—
This fruit shall slay the lingering taint of Earth
Within thee, and preserve thee all divine.’
Mystical apples like to diamond seeds,
So small to seeming that a score might lie
In the pink hollow of an infant's hand.
Each shone complete and pure as mother-o'-pearl
Touch'd with prismat'c gleams of wondrous light,
And unto each on the scarce visible stem
There clung two perfect little leaves of gold.
This secret fruit the gods and goddesses
For ever feed on, evermore renewed;
And in a garden desolate and dim
Wash'd by the wild green sea of human graves,
Pale Ydun plucks it, and none other may.
‘Eat!’ Ydun murmur'd—‘Balder, eat and live—
This fruit shall slay the lingering taint of Earth
Within thee, and preserve thee all divine.’
Then Balder reaching out his open'd hand
Did take the fruit, and eating of the same,
Which melted on his tongue like flakes of snow,
He felt thro' all his limbs the rapturous thrill
Of some supreme and unfamiliar life.
So leaving all those luminous shapes behind,
He took the hand of Ydun, kissing her
As moonlight kisses dew; and side by side
They wended down across the yellow sands,—
And many hours they wander'd whispering low
Close to the bright edge of that sleeping Sea.
Did take the fruit, and eating of the same,
Which melted on his tongue like flakes of snow,
He felt thro' all his limbs the rapturous thrill
Of some supreme and unfamiliar life.
So leaving all those luminous shapes behind,
He took the hand of Ydun, kissing her
As moonlight kisses dew; and side by side
They wended down across the yellow sands,—
And many hours they wander'd whispering low
Close to the bright edge of that sleeping Sea.
III. The City of the Gods.
So Balder knew what mystical delights,
What slumberous idleness and peace supreme
Belong to the immortal goddesses;
And not a goddess in those golden walks
But loved the human light in Balder's face.
At last there came a day (if day might come
Where suns sank never in the crystal sea)
When mighty Frea said, ‘The time is nigh
To say farewell—much yet remains to do,
A weary path to follow, ere thy seat
Among immortal creatures is secure.’
And Balder smiled, for of those shining groves
His soul was weary tho' he knew it not;—
Ev'n Freya's kiss was chiller on his cheek,
And Gefion's face seem'd less serenely fair,
And only Ydun still had power to soothe
His spirit with her weirdly-woven runes.
And Balder said, ‘O Mother, sweet it is
To dwell among the immortals in these bowers,
But to fare on is better, and I seem
Ev'n as a cloud whose feet may never rest,
But still must wander, and it knows not whither.’
What slumberous idleness and peace supreme
Belong to the immortal goddesses;
And not a goddess in those golden walks
But loved the human light in Balder's face.
At last there came a day (if day might come
Where suns sank never in the crystal sea)
When mighty Frea said, ‘The time is nigh
To say farewell—much yet remains to do,
A weary path to follow, ere thy seat
Among immortal creatures is secure.’
And Balder smiled, for of those shining groves
His soul was weary tho' he knew it not;—
Ev'n Freya's kiss was chiller on his cheek,
And Gefion's face seem'd less serenely fair,
And only Ydun still had power to soothe
His spirit with her weirdly-woven runes.
And Balder said, ‘O Mother, sweet it is
To dwell among the immortals in these bowers,
But to fare on is better, and I seem
Ev'n as a cloud whose feet may never rest,
But still must wander, and it knows not whither.’
And so from that fair valley silently
They pass'd, and up the mountain sides, and down
Thro' other prospects less divinely fair.
They pass'd, and up the mountain sides, and down
Thro' other prospects less divinely fair.
And from the valley they had left the face
Of Balder slowly faded like a star,
Forgotten, dwindled from the drowsy dream
Of those great slumberous-lidded goddesses.
From that bright realm's serene eternity
All forms that are not present fade away
Like shadows stealing o'er a summer stream.
Yea even Freya did forget his eyes,
And gazed straight out at the unchanging sea
Smiling all calm as if he had not been;
And only Ydun did remember him,
Writing his name upon the yellow sands
And weaving it all round with subtle runes.
Of Balder slowly faded like a star,
Forgotten, dwindled from the drowsy dream
Of those great slumberous-lidded goddesses.
From that bright realm's serene eternity
All forms that are not present fade away
Like shadows stealing o'er a summer stream.
Yea even Freya did forget his eyes,
And gazed straight out at the unchanging sea
Smiling all calm as if he had not been;
And only Ydun did remember him,
Writing his name upon the yellow sands
And weaving it all round with subtle runes.
. . . But far away beyond those secret realms,
Still northward, thro' the wastes where nothing lives,
The goddess guided Balder, till at last
Into their faces flash'd the polar fires;
So that the streams were purpled and the heights
Took deeper crimson gleams, and overhead
The stars were quench'd in amethyst and gold.
Then Frea pointed with her hand, and cried,
‘Behold the City of the Gods!’
Still northward, thro' the wastes where nothing lives,
The goddess guided Balder, till at last
Into their faces flash'd the polar fires;
So that the streams were purpled and the heights
Took deeper crimson gleams, and overhead
The stars were quench'd in amethyst and gold.
Then Frea pointed with her hand, and cried,
‘Behold the City of the Gods!’
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They stood
Upon the verge of a vast Sea of Ice,
So rough, so sown with berg and drift, it seem'd
An ocean frozen in the midst of storm
Before the surge could break, the waves could fall.
Still was it 'neath the gleaming lights of heaven,
Silent and awful, sleeping with no stir,
In one vast gleam of crimson bright as blood
Cast on it from afar. For lo! beyond,
Rose Asgard, the great City of the Gods,
For ever burnt to ashes night by night
And dawn by dawn for evermore renew'd.
And mortals when they see from out their caves
The City crumbling with a thousand fires
Cry, ‘Lo, the Sunset!’—and when evermore
They mark it springing up miraculous
From its own ashes strewn beside the sea,
Cry, ‘Lo, the Sunrise!’ There, within its walls
The great gods strive in thickening fumes of fight,
Gathering together bloody ghosts of men;
And when the great towers tremble and the spires
Shoot earthward and the fiery ashes smoke,
The gods exult a little space, and wave
Their brands for all the vales of earth to see;
But when the ashes blacken, and the moon
Shines on the City's embers, silently
They creep into their starry tents and sleep,—
Till like a rose unfolding leaf by leaf,
The immortal City rises!
Upon the verge of a vast Sea of Ice,
So rough, so sown with berg and drift, it seem'd
An ocean frozen in the midst of storm
Before the surge could break, the waves could fall.
Still was it 'neath the gleaming lights of heaven,
Silent and awful, sleeping with no stir,
In one vast gleam of crimson bright as blood
Cast on it from afar. For lo! beyond,
Rose Asgard, the great City of the Gods,
For ever burnt to ashes night by night
And dawn by dawn for evermore renew'd.
And mortals when they see from out their caves
The City crumbling with a thousand fires
Cry, ‘Lo, the Sunset!’—and when evermore
They mark it springing up miraculous
From its own ashes strewn beside the sea,
Cry, ‘Lo, the Sunrise!’ There, within its walls
The great gods strive in thickening fumes of fight,
Gathering together bloody ghosts of men;
And when the great towers tremble and the spires
Shoot earthward and the fiery ashes smoke,
The gods exult a little space, and wave
Their brands for all the vales of earth to see;
But when the ashes blacken, and the moon
Shines on the City's embers, silently
They creep into their starry tents and sleep,—
Till like a rose unfolding leaf by leaf,
The immortal City rises!
And behold!
There, far across the silent frozen Deep,
They saw the glimmer of the topmost towers,
Fading and changing in the lurid light
Of their own terrible consuming flame;
And shadows to and fro amid the gleam
Pass'd, smiting shadows, and from out the heavens
There came a far-off sound as of a sea.
There, far across the silent frozen Deep,
They saw the glimmer of the topmost towers,
Fading and changing in the lurid light
Of their own terrible consuming flame;
And shadows to and fro amid the gleam
Pass'd, smiting shadows, and from out the heavens
There came a far-off sound as of a sea.
Still onward, walking now with wearier feet
The ice of that great Ocean, they pursued
Their solitary way, and as they went.
With shadows ever lengthening to the south,
The City sank consuming, till its towers
Just touch'd with gold the red horizon fringe;
And in the darkening ether over it
A star sprang like a spirit clad in mail,
And sat without a sound upon its throne,
Down-gazing; and the empty heavens and air
Were troubled still with melancholy light,
Wherein the opening lamps of night were swung
Pure golden, twinkling without beams.
The ice of that great Ocean, they pursued
Their solitary way, and as they went.
With shadows ever lengthening to the south,
The City sank consuming, till its towers
Just touch'd with gold the red horizon fringe;
And in the darkening ether over it
A star sprang like a spirit clad in mail,
And sat without a sound upon its throne,
Down-gazing; and the empty heavens and air
Were troubled still with melancholy light,
Wherein the opening lamps of night were swung
Pure golden, twinkling without beams.
At last,
When of that City little more remain'd
Than splendour from its ashes fading slow,
They reach'd one mighty gateway crumbling down
Ev'n as a cloud that clings upon a crag,
And passing in they found the golden streets
All chill and desolate and strewn with shade;
For no' quick foot of any living thing,
Mortal or god, trod there; but all around
Grew silence, and the luminous eyes of stars.
When of that City little more remain'd
Than splendour from its ashes fading slow,
They reach'd one mighty gateway crumbling down
Ev'n as a cloud that clings upon a crag,
And passing in they found the golden streets
All chill and desolate and strewn with shade;
For no' quick foot of any living thing,
Mortal or god, trod there; but all around
Grew silence, and the luminous eyes of stars.
Then Frea said, ‘Call now upon the Father!’
And Balder, standing bright and beautiful
Like to a marble column wrought with gold,
All kindled with the shadows of the fire,
Rose on the ashes of the City and cried,
‘Father!’ when glory grew about his brow,
And on his breast and arms the light was shed,
Staining their alabaster. So he stood,
Tall-statured, luminous, supremely fair,
Watch'd by the closing eyes of all the world.
And suddenly, in answer to his cry,
A fierce aurora of pale faces flash'd
Out of the night of the extremest north.
Like to a marble column wrought with gold,
All kindled with the shadows of the fire,
Rose on the ashes of the City and cried,
‘Father!’ when glory grew about his brow,
And on his breast and arms the light was shed,
Staining their alabaster. So he stood,
Tall-statured, luminous, supremely fair,
Watch'd by the closing eyes of all the world.
And suddenly, in answer to his cry,
A fierce aurora of pale faces flash'd
Out of the night of the extremest north.
And Frea cried aloud, ‘Almighty gods!
Behold your brother Balder! Father in Heaven,
Behold thy Son!’
Behold your brother Balder! Father in Heaven,
Behold thy Son!’
From out the north there came
A murmur, and across the skies there swept
A trouble as of wildly waving hands.
A murmur, and across the skies there swept
A trouble as of wildly waving hands.
Then Frea cried to Balder, ‘Call again!’
And Balder, shining still most beautiful,
And stretching out his arms to the black north,
Cried ‘Father!’
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And stretching out his arms to the black north,
Cried ‘Father!’
Suddenly the stars were quench'd,
And heavy as a curtain fell the night.
And heavy as a curtain fell the night.
IV. The Voice of the Father.
Then Frea said, ‘O Balder, best beloved,
My heart fails, and my weary spirit swoons.
Fare on alone, and enter unafraid
The presence of the Father.’
My heart fails, and my weary spirit swoons.
Fare on alone, and enter unafraid
The presence of the Father.’
As she spake,
Her face he saw not, but he felt her hands
Clinging around him, while his own fair face,
Amid that sudden darkness, shone serene,
Fearless and gentle, and his beauteous limbs
Gleam'd with the lustre of celestial life.
‘Mother,’ he answer'd, ‘why is all so dark?
And where is he thou namest, that mine eyes
May look upon him?’
Her face he saw not, but he felt her hands
Clinging around him, while his own fair face,
Amid that sudden darkness, shone serene,
Fearless and gentle, and his beauteous limbs
Gleam'd with the lustre of celestial life.
‘Mother,’ he answer'd, ‘why is all so dark?
And where is he thou namest, that mine eyes
May look upon him?’
From the blacken'd ground
Her voice sobbed answer, saying, ‘Even now
His shadow is upon us. Pass thou on,
Glide silent thro' the phantom groves of gods,
And stand in thine immortal loveliness,
With eyes divine on his, before the throne.
Here will I linger, praying close to the earth,
Till thou returnest.’
Her voice sobbed answer, saying, ‘Even now
His shadow is upon us. Pass thou on,
Glide silent thro' the phantom groves of gods,
And stand in thine immortal loveliness,
With eyes divine on his, before the throne.
Here will I linger, praying close to the earth,
Till thou returnest.’
Shining like a star,
Spake Balder, ‘All is dim, and I discern
No pathway and no bourne;’ but with clear voice
Uplifted like a swan's that flies thro' storm,
He call'd, ‘Where art thou, Father? It is I,
Balder thy Son!’
Spake Balder, ‘All is dim, and I discern
No pathway and no bourne;’ but with clear voice
Uplifted like a swan's that flies thro' storm,
He call'd, ‘Where art thou, Father? It is I,
Balder thy Son!’
As when the great seas roar
Suck'd in thro' weedy rocks and undercaves
With surging sorrow drearily prolong'd
In hoarse and billowy breaths of solemn sound,
Ev'n so that darkness murmur'd and a voice
Came thund'rous out of heaven with no words.
And Frea cried, ‘Thou hearest! Hark, he calls—
Follow that murmur out into the dark,
And it shall guide thee to the Father's feet.’
Suck'd in thro' weedy rocks and undercaves
With surging sorrow drearily prolong'd
In hoarse and billowy breaths of solemn sound,
Ev'n so that darkness murmur'd and a voice
Came thund'rous out of heaven with no words.
And Frea cried, ‘Thou hearest! Hark, he calls—
Follow that murmur out into the dark,
And it shall guide thee to the Father's feet.’
Silently, softly smiling, with no fear,
Balder pass'd on; and as one gropes his way
Occanward guided by the ocean's voice,
He faded slowly forth into the night.
Balder pass'd on; and as one gropes his way
Occanward guided by the ocean's voice,
He faded slowly forth into the night.
V. Balder's Return.
There close to the earth she waited, crouching down
'Mid the cold ashes of the sunken City,
While closing round her like to prison walls
The deep impenetrable darkness grew.
And soon it shed a heavy, weary rain,
That clung upon her, chilling soul and sense,
Cold as a corpse's lips; and all the while,
As a bird listens from its folded wings,
She listen'd!
'Mid the cold ashes of the sunken City,
While closing round her like to prison walls
The deep impenetrable darkness grew.
And soon it shed a heavy, weary rain,
That clung upon her, chilling soul and sense,
Cold as a corpse's lips; and all the while,
As a bird listens from its folded wings,
She listen'd!
But the only sound she heard
Was the low murmur of that weary rain,
Which spread wet fingers o'er the shuddering heavens,
And drearily drew down the rainy lids
Over the gentle eyes of all the stars.
Was the low murmur of that weary rain,
Which spread wet fingers o'er the shuddering heavens,
And drearily drew down the rainy lids
Over the gentle eyes of all the stars.
Silent she lay and hearken'd, till her soul
Had lost all count of time and faded back
Into its own sad, dumb eternity. . . .
Had lost all count of time and faded back
Into its own sad, dumb eternity. . . .
At last she stirred like one that wakes from sleep.
The rain had ceased, the darkness to the north
Had lifted, and her eyes beheld afar,
Beneath the glimmer of the northern night,
The brightness of the god's returning feet.
The rain had ceased, the darkness to the north
Had lifted, and her eyes beheld afar,
Beneath the glimmer of the northern night,
The brightness of the god's returning feet.
Slowly, like one whose heart is heavy; slowly,
Like one that muses sadly as he moves;
Slowly, with darkness brooding at his back,
Came Balder, and his coming far away
Was ev'n as moonlight when the moon is sad
On misty nights of March; and when again
He pass'd across the ashes of the City,
And she who bare him could behold his face,
'Twas spectral white, and in his heavenly eyes
There dwelt a shadowy pain. Ev'n as a man
Who passing thro' the barrows of the slain
Hath seen the corpses sit at dead of night
Gazing in silence from their own green graves;
Or as a maiden who hath seen a wraith
And knoweth that her shroud is being woven,
Came Balder out of heaven: still divine,
And beautiful, but ah! how sorrowful;
Still bright, but with a light as sadly fair,
Compared to that first splendour of the dawn,
As moonshine is to sunshine; on his brow
The shade of some new sorrow, in his eyes
The birth of some new pity; as a god,
Yet ghost-like, with deep glamour in his gaze,
Slowly, with faltering footsteps, Balder came.
Like one that muses sadly as he moves;
Slowly, with darkness brooding at his back,
Came Balder, and his coming far away
Was ev'n as moonlight when the moon is sad
On misty nights of March; and when again
449
And she who bare him could behold his face,
'Twas spectral white, and in his heavenly eyes
There dwelt a shadowy pain. Ev'n as a man
Who passing thro' the barrows of the slain
Hath seen the corpses sit at dead of night
Gazing in silence from their own green graves;
Or as a maiden who hath seen a wraith
And knoweth that her shroud is being woven,
Came Balder out of heaven: still divine,
And beautiful, but ah! how sorrowful;
Still bright, but with a light as sadly fair,
Compared to that first splendour of the dawn,
As moonshine is to sunshine; on his brow
The shade of some new sorrow, in his eyes
The birth of some new pity; as a god,
Yet ghost-like, with deep glamour in his gaze,
Slowly, with faltering footsteps, Balder came.
Then Frea rose in silence, very pale,
For on her soul beholding Balder's face
Some desolate anticipation fell,
And turn'd her eyes on his, stretching her hands
To hold him and to embrace him, keen to hear
His message; but he spake not when her arms
Were wound about him and upon his brow
Her soft kiss fell; vacant his sad eyes seem'd,
As if they gazed on something far away.
Then Frea sobbed in agony of heart,
‘Son, hast thou seen thy brethren?’ and again,
‘Son, hast thou seen thy Father?’ Yet a space
His lips were silent, and his eyes were blank,
But when again and yet again her tongue
Had framed the same fond question, Balder said,
In a low voice and a weary, ‘I have seen
My brethren and my Father!’ Like a man
Smit thro' and thro' with sudden sense of cold,
He shiver'd.
For on her soul beholding Balder's face
Some desolate anticipation fell,
And turn'd her eyes on his, stretching her hands
To hold him and to embrace him, keen to hear
His message; but he spake not when her arms
Were wound about him and upon his brow
Her soft kiss fell; vacant his sad eyes seem'd,
As if they gazed on something far away.
Then Frea sobbed in agony of heart,
‘Son, hast thou seen thy brethren?’ and again,
‘Son, hast thou seen thy Father?’ Yet a space
His lips were silent, and his eyes were blank,
But when again and yet again her tongue
Had framed the same fond question, Balder said,
In a low voice and a weary, ‘I have seen
My brethren and my Father!’ Like a man
Smit thro' and thro' with sudden sense of cold,
He shiver'd.
Then the goddess, mad to see
The light of agony on that well-loved face,
Clung to him wailing, ‘Balder! my Son Balder!
Why is thy look so sick, thy soul so weary?
What hast thou done and seen? what sight of heaven
Hath made thee sad?’—and Balder answer'd low,
‘O Mother! I have dream'd another dream—
I have seen my brethren in a dream—have seen
My brethren and my Father; and it seems
From that strange trance I have not waken'd yet,
But that I still am darkling in my dream,
The breath of gods about me, and the eyes
Of gods upon me! Patience—question not—
The light is coming, and my soul is waking—
My dream grows clear, and I shall soon remember
All that mine eyes have seen, mine ears have heard.’
The light of agony on that well-loved face,
Clung to him wailing, ‘Balder! my Son Balder!
Why is thy look so sick, thy soul so weary?
What hast thou done and seen? what sight of heaven
Hath made thee sad?’—and Balder answer'd low,
‘O Mother! I have dream'd another dream—
I have seen my brethren in a dream—have seen
My brethren and my Father; and it seems
From that strange trance I have not waken'd yet,
But that I still am darkling in my dream,
The breath of gods about me, and the eyes
Of gods upon me! Patience—question not—
The light is coming, and my soul is waking—
My dream grows clear, and I shall soon remember
All that mine eyes have seen, mine ears have heard.’
Then on that City's ashes side by side
Sat son and mother, two colossal shapes,
Silent, in shadow; but the eyes of heaven
Were opening above, and to the south
They saw the white seas flash with glittering bergs
In fitful glimmers to the windy night.
And when a little space had pass'd away
The god spake softly, saying, ‘All is clear,
My sorrow and my dream; and Mother, now
I know those things which seem'd so sad and dark.
Ah! woe is me that I was ever born
To be a terror and a grief to gods!’
Sat son and mother, two colossal shapes,
Silent, in shadow; but the eyes of heaven
Were opening above, and to the south
They saw the white seas flash with glittering bergs
In fitful glimmers to the windy night.
And when a little space had pass'd away
The god spake softly, saying, ‘All is clear,
My sorrow and my dream; and Mother, now
I know those things which seem'd so sad and dark.
Ah! woe is me that I was ever born
To be a terror and a grief to gods!’
Then Frea cried, ‘O Balder, unto whom
Can all the promise of thy beauty bring
Terror or grief? Nay, 'twas with looks serene
To win the heart of heaven, that its wrath
Might never turn against thee, and to mock
With glory of thy human gentleness
The prophecy of that ancestral rune,
I bade thee go up beauteous and alone
Before the darkness of the Father's face.
Yet thou returnest barren of such joy
As thou a god shouldst snatch from gods thy kin,
First in thy plenitude beholding them;
And on thy brow is sadness, not such peace
As comes from consecration of a kiss
Given by a Father to a son beloved
In whom he is well pleased!’
Can all the promise of thy beauty bring
Terror or grief? Nay, 'twas with looks serene
To win the heart of heaven, that its wrath
Might never turn against thee, and to mock
With glory of thy human gentleness
The prophecy of that ancestral rune,
I bade thee go up beauteous and alone
Before the darkness of the Father's face.
Yet thou returnest barren of such joy
450
First in thy plenitude beholding them;
And on thy brow is sadness, not such peace
As comes from consecration of a kiss
Given by a Father to a son beloved
In whom he is well pleased!’
Then once again
Like a man smitten to the bone with cold,
Bright Balder shiver'd, and his beautiful face
Grew gray as any mortal's fix'd in death;
And suddenly he cried, ‘O come away!
Come back to those green woods where I was born.
The ways of heaven are dreary, and the winds
Of heaven blow chilly, and I fain would find
A refuge and a home!’
Like a man smitten to the bone with cold,
Bright Balder shiver'd, and his beautiful face
Grew gray as any mortal's fix'd in death;
And suddenly he cried, ‘O come away!
Come back to those green woods where I was born.
The ways of heaven are dreary, and the winds
Of heaven blow chilly, and I fain would find
A refuge and a home!’
But Frea moan'd,
Turning her fair face northward in quick wrath,
‘Ay me thy dream—I read it, from mine own
Most bitterly awaking. Woe to them!
Woe to the Father and the gods thy kin!
Out of thy mansion have they cast thee forth,
Denying thee thy birthright and thy seat
Up yonder at thy heavenly Father's side!’
But Balder, in a feeble voice and low,
Said, ‘They denied me nought, those Shapes I saw
Strangely as in a sleep; nay, but meseem'd
They pointed at me with their spectral hands
And waved me back, some with their raiment hems
Hiding their faces; in their eyes I saw
Not love but protestation absolute;
And when I rose and named my Father's name,
It seem'd creation rock'd beneath my feet
And all the cloudy void above my head
Trembled; and when I named my name, a voice
Shriek'd “Balder!” and the naked vaults of heaven
Prolong'd in desolation and despair
The echoes of the word till it became
As thunder! Then meseem'd I saw a hand,
Gripping the fiery lightning suddenly,
Strike at my head as if to smite me down;
But tho' my frame was wrapt about with fire,
I stood unscathed; and as I paused I saw,
Confused as stormy shadows in the sea,
Thrones gleaming, faces fading, starry shapes
Coming and going darkly; and each time
I call'd upon my Father, that great hand
Flash'd down the fierce darts of the crimson levin,
And from that darkness which I knew was he
A voice came, and a cry that seem'd a curse,
Until my soul was sicken'd and afraid.
Then, for my heart was heavy, yearning still
To look upon him and to feel at last
The welcome of his consecrating kiss,
I fell upon my knees, folded my hands
Together, and I blest him;—when methought
The voice wail'd, and the cry that seem'd a curse
Re-echoed. Then came blackness more intense;
And for a space my sense and sight seem'd lost,
And when I woke I stood beside thee here,
Holding thy hand and looking in thine eyes.’
Turning her fair face northward in quick wrath,
‘Ay me thy dream—I read it, from mine own
Most bitterly awaking. Woe to them!
Woe to the Father and the gods thy kin!
Out of thy mansion have they cast thee forth,
Denying thee thy birthright and thy seat
Up yonder at thy heavenly Father's side!’
But Balder, in a feeble voice and low,
Said, ‘They denied me nought, those Shapes I saw
Strangely as in a sleep; nay, but meseem'd
They pointed at me with their spectral hands
And waved me back, some with their raiment hems
Hiding their faces; in their eyes I saw
Not love but protestation absolute;
And when I rose and named my Father's name,
It seem'd creation rock'd beneath my feet
And all the cloudy void above my head
Trembled; and when I named my name, a voice
Shriek'd “Balder!” and the naked vaults of heaven
Prolong'd in desolation and despair
The echoes of the word till it became
As thunder! Then meseem'd I saw a hand,
Gripping the fiery lightning suddenly,
Strike at my head as if to smite me down;
But tho' my frame was wrapt about with fire,
I stood unscathed; and as I paused I saw,
Confused as stormy shadows in the sea,
Thrones gleaming, faces fading, starry shapes
Coming and going darkly; and each time
I call'd upon my Father, that great hand
Flash'd down the fierce darts of the crimson levin,
And from that darkness which I knew was he
A voice came, and a cry that seem'd a curse,
Until my soul was sicken'd and afraid.
Then, for my heart was heavy, yearning still
To look upon him and to feel at last
The welcome of his consecrating kiss,
I fell upon my knees, folded my hands
Together, and I blest him;—when methought
The voice wail'd, and the cry that seem'd a curse
Re-echoed. Then came blackness more intense;
And for a space my sense and sight seem'd lost,
And when I woke I stood beside thee here,
Holding thy hand and looking in thine eyes.’
Then Frea wail'd, ‘'Tis o'er! my hope is o'er!
Thy Father loves thee not, but casts thee forth—
Where wilt thou find a place to rest thy feet?’
But Balder answer'd, ‘Where the cushat builds
Her nest amid green leaves, and where wild roses
Hang lamps to light the dewy feet of dawn,
And where the starlight and the moonlight slumber,
Ev'n there, upon the balmy lap of Earth,
Shall I not sleep again? O Mother, Mother!
Pray to my Father that his soul may learn
To love me in due season, while again
Earthward we fare; and Mother, bless thou me,
Me whom my heavenly Father blesseth not,
With ministering hands before we go!’
Thy Father loves thee not, but casts thee forth—
Where wilt thou find a place to rest thy feet?’
But Balder answer'd, ‘Where the cushat builds
Her nest amid green leaves, and where wild roses
Hang lamps to light the dewy feet of dawn,
And where the starlight and the moonlight slumber,
Ev'n there, upon the balmy lap of Earth,
Shall I not sleep again? O Mother, Mother!
Pray to my Father that his soul may learn
To love me in due season, while again
Earthward we fare; and Mother, bless thou me,
Me whom my heavenly Father blesseth not,
With ministering hands before we go!’
Then Frea cried, blessing and kissing Balder,
‘Go thou,—the green Earth loves thee, and thy face
Is as a lamp to all the gentle things
Which mingled in thy making—Go thou down,
But I will journey upward till I find
The footstool of the Father. Night and day
With prayers, with intercession of deep tears,
With ministering murmurs, I will plead,
Low-lying like a cloud around his feet,
Thy cause, and the green Earth's which foster'd thee:
That in a later season love may come
In answer, and the Father fear no more
To seat thee 'mong Immortals at his side.
Go down, my child, my sunbeam, my bestborn,
My Balder, who art still deem'd beautiful
Save only in the heavenly Father's sight!
And when all things have blest thee; when all forms
Have gladden'd in thy glory; when all voices,
The mountains and the rivers and the seas,
The white clouds and the stars upon their thrones,
Have known thy face and syllabled thy name;
Come back again under the arch of heaven,
Not as a suppliant but a conqueror,
And take thy throne!’
‘Go thou,—the green Earth loves thee, and thy face
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Which mingled in thy making—Go thou down,
But I will journey upward till I find
The footstool of the Father. Night and day
With prayers, with intercession of deep tears,
With ministering murmurs, I will plead,
Low-lying like a cloud around his feet,
Thy cause, and the green Earth's which foster'd thee:
That in a later season love may come
In answer, and the Father fear no more
To seat thee 'mong Immortals at his side.
Go down, my child, my sunbeam, my bestborn,
My Balder, who art still deem'd beautiful
Save only in the heavenly Father's sight!
And when all things have blest thee; when all forms
Have gladden'd in thy glory; when all voices,
The mountains and the rivers and the seas,
The white clouds and the stars upon their thrones,
Have known thy face and syllabled thy name;
Come back again under the arch of heaven,
Not as a suppliant but a conqueror,
And take thy throne!’
The darkness far away
Groan'd: and the great void answer'd; overhead
Cluster'd the countless spheres of night, like eyes
Downgazing; but beneath the goddess' feet
Shot up dim gleams of dawn.
Groan'd: and the great void answer'd; overhead
Cluster'd the countless spheres of night, like eyes
Downgazing; but beneath the goddess' feet
Shot up dim gleams of dawn.
Then bright as day
Grew Balder, while his face, composed to peace,
Turn'd earthward; and he stretch'd out eager arms
To that belovëd land where he was born.
‘Farewell!’ he said, and softly kiss'd the mother;
Then, while the goddess glided like a cloud
Up heavenward, down to the dim Earth he pass'd
Slowly, with luminous feet.
Grew Balder, while his face, composed to peace,
Turn'd earthward; and he stretch'd out eager arms
To that belovëd land where he was born.
‘Farewell!’ he said, and softly kiss'd the mother;
Then, while the goddess glided like a cloud
Up heavenward, down to the dim Earth he pass'd
Slowly, with luminous feet.
. . . And when he came
To that cold realm which belts the Frozen Sea,
Behind his back the trumpets of the light
Were faintly blown; a sudden sheen was thrown
Behind him and around him, wondrously;
Bright shone the lonely waste of plain and berg;
And reaching that great cape of porphyry
Which points with shadowy finger at the pole,
He turn'd his shining face once more, and watch'd;
While far away in the remotest north
Bright Asgard, mystic City of the Gods,
Was rising from its ashes till its spires
Burnt golden in the rose-red arch of heaven.
To that cold realm which belts the Frozen Sea,
Behind his back the trumpets of the light
Were faintly blown; a sudden sheen was thrown
Behind him and around him, wondrously;
Bright shone the lonely waste of plain and berg;
And reaching that great cape of porphyry
Which points with shadowy finger at the pole,
He turn'd his shining face once more, and watch'd;
While far away in the remotest north
Bright Asgard, mystic City of the Gods,
Was rising from its ashes till its spires
Burnt golden in the rose-red arch of heaven.
IV. BALDER'S RETURN TO EARTH.
I. ‘Balder is Here.’
O who cometh sweetly
With singing of showers?—
The wild wind runs fleetly
Before his soft tread,
The sward stirs asunder
To radiance of flowers,
While o'er him and under
A glory is spread—
A white cloud above him
Moves on thro' the blue,
And all things that love him
Are dim with its dew:
The lark is upspringing,
The merle whistles clear,
There is sunlight and singing,
For Balder is here!
With singing of showers?—
The wild wind runs fleetly
Before his soft tread,
The sward stirs asunder
To radiance of flowers,
While o'er him and under
A glory is spread—
A white cloud above him
Moves on thro' the blue,
And all things that love him
Are dim with its dew:
The lark is upspringing,
The merle whistles clear,
There is sunlight and singing,
For Balder is here!
He walks on the mountains,
He treads on the snows;
He loosens the fountains
And quickens the wells;
He is filling the chalice
Of lily and rose,
He is down in the valleys
And deep in the dells—
He smiles, and buds spring to him.
The bright and the dark;
He speaks, and birds sing to him,
The finch and the lark,—
He is down by the river,
He is up by the mere,
Woods gladden, leaves quiver,
For Balder is here.
He treads on the snows;
He loosens the fountains
And quickens the wells;
He is filling the chalice
Of lily and rose,
He is down in the valleys
And deep in the dells—
He smiles, and buds spring to him.
The bright and the dark;
He speaks, and birds sing to him,
The finch and the lark,—
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He is up by the mere,
Woods gladden, leaves quiver,
For Balder is here.
There is some divine trouble
On earth and in air—
Trees tremble, brooks bubble,
Ants loosen the sod;
Warm footfalls awaken
Whatever is fair;
Sweet rain-dews are shaken
To quicken each clod.
The wild rainbows o'er him
Are melted and fade,
The grass runs before him
Thro' meadow and glade;
Green branches close round him,
The leaves whisper near—
‘He is ours—we have found him—
Bright Balder is here!’
On earth and in air—
Trees tremble, brooks bubble,
Ants loosen the sod;
Warm footfalls awaken
Whatever is fair;
Sweet rain-dews are shaken
To quicken each clod.
The wild rainbows o'er him
Are melted and fade,
The grass runs before him
Thro' meadow and glade;
Green branches close round him,
The leaves whisper near—
‘He is ours—we have found him—
Bright Balder is here!’
The forest glows golden
Where'er he is seen,
New flowers are unfolden,
New voices arise;
Flames flash at his passing
From boughs that grow green,
Dark runlets gleam, glassing
The stars of his eyes.
The Earth wears her brightest
Wherever he goes,
The hawthorn its whitest,
Its reddest the rose;
The days now are sunny,
The white storks appear,
And the bee gathers honey,
For Balder is here.
Where'er he is seen,
New flowers are unfolden,
New voices arise;
Flames flash at his passing
From boughs that grow green,
Dark runlets gleam, glassing
The stars of his eyes.
The Earth wears her brightest
Wherever he goes,
The hawthorn its whitest,
Its reddest the rose;
The days now are sunny,
The white storks appear,
And the bee gathers honey,
For Balder is here.
He is here on the heather,
And here by the brook,
And here where together
The lilac boughs cling;
He is coming and going
With love in his look,
His white hand is sowing
Warm seeds, and they spring!
He has touch'd with new silver
The lips of the stream,
And the eyes of the culver
Are bright from his beam,
He has lit the great lilies
Like lamps on the mere;
All happy and still is,
For Balder is here.
And here by the brook,
And here where together
The lilac boughs cling;
He is coming and going
With love in his look,
His white hand is sowing
Warm seeds, and they spring!
He has touch'd with new silver
The lips of the stream,
And the eyes of the culver
Are bright from his beam,
He has lit the great lilies
Like lamps on the mere;
All happy and still is,
For Balder is here.
Still southward with sunlight
He wanders away—
The true light, the one light,
The new light, is he!
With music and singing
The mountains are gay,
And the peace he is bringing
Spreads over the sea.
All night, while stars twinkling
Gleam down on the glade,
His white hands are sprinkling
With harebells the shade;
And when day hath broken,
All things that dwell near
Will know, by that token,
That Balder is here.
He wanders away—
The true light, the one light,
The new light, is he!
With music and singing
The mountains are gay,
And the peace he is bringing
Spreads over the sea.
All night, while stars twinkling
Gleam down on the glade,
His white hands are sprinkling
With harebells the shade;
And when day hath broken,
All things that dwell near
Will know, by that token,
That Balder is here.
In the dark deep dominions
Of pine and of fir,
Where the dove with soft pinions
Sits still on her nest,
He sees her, and by her
The young doves astir,
And smiling sits nigh her,
His hand on her breast;
The father-dove lingers
With love in its eyes,
Alights on his fingers,
And utters soft cries,
And the sweet colours seven
Of the rainbow appear
On its neck, as in heaven,
Now Balder is here.
Of pine and of fir,
Where the dove with soft pinions
Sits still on her nest,
He sees her, and by her
The young doves astir,
And smiling sits nigh her,
His hand on her breast;
The father-dove lingers
With love in its eyes,
Alights on his fingers,
And utters soft cries,
And the sweet colours seven
Of the rainbow appear
On its neck, as in heaven,
Now Balder is here.
He sits by a fountain
Far up near the snow,
And high on the mountain
The wild reindeer stand;
On crimson moss near to him
They feed walking slow,
Or come with no fear to him,
And eat from his hand.
He sees the ice turning
To columns of gold.
He sees the clouds burning
On crags that were cold;
The great snows are drifting
To cataracts clear,
All shining and shifting,
For Balder is here.
Far up near the snow,
And high on the mountain
The wild reindeer stand;
On crimson moss near to him
They feed walking slow,
Or come with no fear to him,
And eat from his hand.
He sees the ice turning
To columns of gold.
He sees the clouds burning
On crags that were cold;
The great snows are drifting
To cataracts clear,
All shining and shifting,
For Balder is here.
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O who sitteth singing,
Where sunset is red,
And wild ducks are winging
Against the dark gleam?
It is he, it is Balder,
He hangeth his head
Where willow and alder
Droop over the stream;
And the purple moths find him
And hover around,
And from marshes behind him
He hears a low sound:
The frogs croak their greeting
From swamp and from mere,
And their faint hearts are beating,
For Balder is here.
Where sunset is red,
And wild ducks are winging
Against the dark gleam?
It is he, it is Balder,
He hangeth his head
Where willow and alder
Droop over the stream;
And the purple moths find him
And hover around,
And from marshes behind him
He hears a low sound:
The frogs croak their greeting
From swamp and from mere,
And their faint hearts are beating,
For Balder is here.
The round moon is peeping
Above the low hill;
Her white light, upcreeping
Against the sun's glow,
On the black shallow river
Falls silvern and chill,
Where bulrushes quiver
And wan lilies grow.
The black bats are flitting,
Owls pass on soft wings,
Yet silently sitting
He lingers and sings—
He sings of the Maytime,
Its sunlight and cheer,
And the night like the daytime
Knows Balder is here.
Above the low hill;
Her white light, upcreeping
Against the sun's glow,
On the black shallow river
Falls silvern and chill,
Where bulrushes quiver
And wan lilies grow.
The black bats are flitting,
Owls pass on soft wings,
Yet silently sitting
He lingers and sings—
He sings of the Maytime,
Its sunlight and cheer,
And the night like the daytime
Knows Balder is here.
He is here with the moonlight,
With night as with day,
The true light, the one light,
The new light, is he;
The moon-bows above him
Are melted away,
And the things of night love him,
And hearken and see.
He sits and he ponders,
He walks and he broods,
Or singing he wanders
'Neath star-frosted woods;
And the spheres from afar, light
His face shining clear:
Yea, the moonlight and starlight
Feel Balder is here.
With night as with day,
The true light, the one light,
The new light, is he;
The moon-bows above him
Are melted away,
And the things of night love him,
And hearken and see.
He sits and he ponders,
He walks and he broods,
Or singing he wanders
'Neath star-frosted woods;
And the spheres from afar, light
His face shining clear:
Yea, the moonlight and starlight
Feel Balder is here.
He is here, he is moving
On mountain and dale,
And all things grow loving,
And all things grow bright:
Buds bloom in the meadows,
Milk foams in the pail,
There is scent in the shadows,
And sound in the light:
O listen! he passes
Thro' valleys of flowers,
With springing of grasses
And singing of showers.
Earth wakes—he has called her,
Whose voice she holds dear;
She was waiting for Balder,
And Balder is here!
On mountain and dale,
And all things grow loving,
And all things grow bright:
Buds bloom in the meadows,
Milk foams in the pail,
There is scent in the shadows,
And sound in the light:
O listen! he passes
Thro' valleys of flowers,
With springing of grasses
And singing of showers.
Earth wakes—he has called her,
Whose voice she holds dear;
She was waiting for Balder,
And Balder is here!
II.
'Mid mountains white by rainbows spanned.
Upon his knees he sank,
And melted in his hollow'd hand
The stainless snows, and drank.
Upon his knees he sank,
And melted in his hollow'd hand
The stainless snows, and drank.
And far beneath in mists of heat
Great purple valleys slept,
And flashing bright beneath his feet
The loosen'd cataracts leapt.
Great purple valleys slept,
And flashing bright beneath his feet
The loosen'd cataracts leapt.
Down to those happy vales he drew
Where men and women dwell,
And white snow melted, green grass grew,
Where'er his footprints fell.
Where men and women dwell,
And white snow melted, green grass grew,
Where'er his footprints fell.
Then night by night and day by day
His deepest joy was found
In watching happy things of clay
And hearing human sound.
His deepest joy was found
In watching happy things of clay
And hearing human sound.
All human eyes to him were sweet,
He loved the touch of hands,
He kissed the print of human feet
Upon the soft sea-sands.
He loved the touch of hands,
He kissed the print of human feet
Upon the soft sea-sands.
Most silently he went and came,
With mild and blissful mien,
Bright as a beam his face would flame
Amid the forests green.
With mild and blissful mien,
Bright as a beam his face would flame
Amid the forests green.
To timid mortals passing by
He seemed a vision fair,
But little children oft drew night,
And let him smooth their hair;
He seemed a vision fair,
But little children oft drew night,
And let him smooth their hair;
And witless men would come to him
With wild and eldritch cries,
And lying in the moonbeams dim
Would gaze into his eyes!
With wild and eldritch cries,
And lying in the moonbeams dim
Would gaze into his eyes!
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His voice was in the lonely wood,
And by the nameless stream,—
He shed in silent solitude
The peaceful rays of dream.
And by the nameless stream,—
He shed in silent solitude
The peaceful rays of dream.
From vale to vale he went, and blest
The wild beast and the bird,—
While deep within the glad Earth's breast
The founts of being stirred. . . .
The wild beast and the bird,—
While deep within the glad Earth's breast
The founts of being stirred. . . .
He sat down in a lonely land
Of mountain, moor, and mere,
And watch'd, with chin upon his hand,
Dark maids that milk'd the deer.
Of mountain, moor, and mere,
And watch'd, with chin upon his hand,
Dark maids that milk'd the deer.
And while the sun set in the skies,
And stars shone in the blue,
They sang sweet songs, till Balder's eyes
Were sad with kindred dew.
And stars shone in the blue,
They sang sweet songs, till Balder's eyes
Were sad with kindred dew.
He passed along the hamlets dim
With twilight's breath of balm,
And whatsoe'er was touch'd by him
Grew beautiful and calm.
With twilight's breath of balm,
And whatsoe'er was touch'd by him
Grew beautiful and calm.
The old man sitting on the grass
Look'd up 'neath hoary hair,
And felt some heavenly presence pass
And gladden'd unaware!
Look'd up 'neath hoary hair,
And felt some heavenly presence pass
And gladden'd unaware!
He came unto a hut forlorn
As evening shadows fell,
And saw the man among the corn,
The woman at the well.
As evening shadows fell,
And saw the man among the corn,
The woman at the well.
And entering the darken'd place,
He found the cradled child;
Stooping he lookt into its face,
Until it woke and smiled!
He found the cradled child;
Stooping he lookt into its face,
Until it woke and smiled!
Then Balder passed into the night
With soft and shining tread,
The cataract called upon the height,
The stars gleam'd overhead.
With soft and shining tread,
The cataract called upon the height,
The stars gleam'd overhead.
He raised his eyes to those cold skies
Which he had left behind,—
And saw the banners of the gods
Blown back upon the wind.
Which he had left behind,—
And saw the banners of the gods
Blown back upon the wind.
He watch'd them as they came and fled,
Then his divine eyes fell.
‘I love the green Earth best,’ he said,
‘And I on Earth will dwell!’
Then his divine eyes fell.
‘I love the green Earth best,’ he said,
‘And I on Earth will dwell!’
III. All Things Blest by Balder.
So when his happy feet had wander'd far,
When all the birds had brighten'd and his hand
Had linger'd on the brows of all the beasts,
He came among the valleys where abode
Mortals that walk erect upon the ground.
First, southward passing, he beheld those men
Who, where the snow for ever lieth, dwell
In caverns of the ground and swathe their limbs
In skins of beasts: these felt his glory pass,
But knew it not, because their eyes were dim
With many nights of darkness. Round their doors
Sorrel blood-red he cast and saxifrage,
And singing passed away! Then roam'd he on,
Past porphyry and greenstone crags that line
Limitless oceans of unmelting ice,
Until he enter'd valleys kindlier
That redden'd into ruby as he came;
And in among the countless deer he stole,
Marking their horns with golden moss, and singing
A strange soft song their souls could understand.
When all the birds had brighten'd and his hand
Had linger'd on the brows of all the beasts,
He came among the valleys where abode
Mortals that walk erect upon the ground.
First, southward passing, he beheld those men
Who, where the snow for ever lieth, dwell
In caverns of the ground and swathe their limbs
In skins of beasts: these felt his glory pass,
But knew it not, because their eyes were dim
With many nights of darkness. Round their doors
Sorrel blood-red he cast and saxifrage,
And singing passed away! Then roam'd he on,
Past porphyry and greenstone crags that line
Limitless oceans of unmelting ice,
Until he enter'd valleys kindlier
That redden'd into ruby as he came;
And in among the countless deer he stole,
Marking their horns with golden moss, and singing
A strange soft song their souls could understand.
Then as the Earth grew fairer, presently
He came beneath the shade of forest leaves,—
And deep among the emerald depths he found
Those mortal men who dwell in woods and build
Their dwellings of the scented boughs of trees.
And often, with his cheek upon his hand,
Balder would sit and watch the smoke of fire
Upcurling thro' the branches heavenward,
While to and fro in sunshine passed the shapes
Of men and women. Most he loved to mark
Those forms which gods made fairest, and to hear
Those voices gods made sweetest; but his hand,
Falling unseen, was gentlest on the hair
Of children and of hoary aged men.
He came beneath the shade of forest leaves,—
And deep among the emerald depths he found
Those mortal men who dwell in woods and build
Their dwellings of the scented boughs of trees.
And often, with his cheek upon his hand,
Balder would sit and watch the smoke of fire
Upcurling thro' the branches heavenward,
While to and fro in sunshine passed the shapes
Of men and women. Most he loved to mark
Those forms which gods made fairest, and to hear
Those voices gods made sweetest; but his hand,
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Of children and of hoary aged men.
Then Balder said, ‘The Earth is fair, and fair,
Yea fairer than the stormy lives of gods,
The lives of gentle dwellers on the Earth;
For shapen are they in the likenesses
Of goddesses and gods, and on their limbs
Sunlight and moonlight mingle, and they lie
Happy and calm in one another's arms
O'er-canopied with greenness; and their hands
Have fashion'd fire that springeth beautiful
Straight as a silvern lily from the ground,
Wondrously blowing; and they measure out
Glad seasons by the pulses of the stars.
O Spirit whom I know not, tho' I fear
Thy shadow on my soul where'er I go,
Almighty Father, tho' thou lov'st me not,
I love thy children! I could sit all hours,
Just looking into their still heavenly eyes,
Holding their hands! Most dear they are to me,
Because they are my brethren;—beautiful,
My brethren and thy children!’
Yea fairer than the stormy lives of gods,
The lives of gentle dwellers on the Earth;
For shapen are they in the likenesses
Of goddesses and gods, and on their limbs
Sunlight and moonlight mingle, and they lie
Happy and calm in one another's arms
O'er-canopied with greenness; and their hands
Have fashion'd fire that springeth beautiful
Straight as a silvern lily from the ground,
Wondrously blowing; and they measure out
Glad seasons by the pulses of the stars.
O Spirit whom I know not, tho' I fear
Thy shadow on my soul where'er I go,
Almighty Father, tho' thou lov'st me not,
I love thy children! I could sit all hours,
Just looking into their still heavenly eyes,
Holding their hands! Most dear they are to me,
Because they are my brethren;—beautiful,
My brethren and thy children!’
O'er his head
The blue sky darken'd, and a thund'rous voice
Murmur'd afar off,—and in great black drops
Came out of heaven the blind and desolate rain.
But Balder gazing upward reach'd out arms
And bless'd it as it fell; and lo, it grew
Silvern and lovely as an old man's hair!
And scents came out of the rich-soilëd earth,
And all the boughs were glad and jewel-hung,
Till very softly, very silently,
The shower ceased, with kisses tremulous
On Balder's lifted hands!
The blue sky darken'd, and a thund'rous voice
Murmur'd afar off,—and in great black drops
Came out of heaven the blind and desolate rain.
But Balder gazing upward reach'd out arms
And bless'd it as it fell; and lo, it grew
Silvern and lovely as an old man's hair!
And scents came out of the rich-soilëd earth,
And all the boughs were glad and jewel-hung,
Till very softly, very silently,
The shower ceased, with kisses tremulous
On Balder's lifted hands!
Even so he turn'd
The saddest things to beauty. With his face
Came calm and consecration; and the Earth
Uplifting sightless eyes in a new joy,
Answer'd the steadfast smile of the still heavens
With one long look of peace. In those strange days
The wild wind was his playmate,—yea, the blast
New-loosen'd by the very hands of gods
Leapt to him like a lamb, and at his smile
Fell at his feet, and slept. Then out of heaven
Came lightnings, from whose terror every face
Of humankind was hidden,—meteors, flames,
Forms of the fiery levin, such as wait
For ever at the angry beck of gods.
But Balder stood upon a promontory,
And saw them shining o'er the open sea,
And on the fields of ether crimson'd red;
And lo, he lfted up a voice and cried,
‘O beautiful wild children of the fire,
Whence come ye? whither go ye? Be at peace,
Come hither!’ and like soft white stingless snakes
That crawl on grass, the fiery meteors came,
Licking his feet in silence, looking up
With luminous eyes!
The saddest things to beauty. With his face
Came calm and consecration; and the Earth
Uplifting sightless eyes in a new joy,
Answer'd the steadfast smile of the still heavens
With one long look of peace. In those strange days
The wild wind was his playmate,—yea, the blast
New-loosen'd by the very hands of gods
Leapt to him like a lamb, and at his smile
Fell at his feet, and slept. Then out of heaven
Came lightnings, from whose terror every face
Of humankind was hidden,—meteors, flames,
Forms of the fiery levin, such as wait
For ever at the angry beck of gods.
But Balder stood upon a promontory,
And saw them shining o'er the open sea,
And on the fields of ether crimson'd red;
And lo, he lfted up a voice and cried,
‘O beautiful wild children of the fire,
Whence come ye? whither go ye? Be at peace,
Come hither!’ and like soft white stingless snakes
That crawl on grass, the fiery meteors came,
Licking his feet in silence, looking up
With luminous eyes!
Ev'n as he conquer'd these,
Heaven's fiery messengers, he tamed the hearts
Of human things, and in the sun they sat
Weaving green boughs, or wooing in the shade,
Or leading home the white and virgin bride.
For as the holy hunger and desire
Came quickening in the hearts of birds and beasts,
Ev'n so woke love within the hearts of men;
And out of love came children; and the Earth
Was merry with new creatures thronging forth
Like ants that quicken on the sun-kist sod.
Heaven's fiery messengers, he tamed the hearts
Of human things, and in the sun they sat
Weaving green boughs, or wooing in the shade,
Or leading home the white and virgin bride.
For as the holy hunger and desire
Came quickening in the hearts of birds and beasts,
Ev'n so woke love within the hearts of men;
And out of love came children; and the Earth
Was merry with new creatures thronging forth
Like ants that quicken on the sun-kist sod.
IV. The Cry from the Ground.
And Balder bends above them, glory-crown'd,
Marking them as they creep upon the ground,
Busy as ants that toil without a sound,
With only gods to mark.
Marking them as they creep upon the ground,
Busy as ants that toil without a sound,
With only gods to mark.
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But list! O list! what is that cry of pain,
Faint as the far-off murmur of the main?
Stoop low and hearken, Balder! List again!
‘Lo! Death makes all things dark!’
Faint as the far-off murmur of the main?
Stoop low and hearken, Balder! List again!
‘Lo! Death makes all things dark!’
Ay me, it is the earthborn souls that sigh,
Coming and going underneath the sky;
They move, they gather, clearer grows their cry—
O Balder, bend, and hark!
Coming and going underneath the sky;
They move, they gather, clearer grows their cry—
O Balder, bend, and hark!
The skies are still and calm, the seas asleep,
In happy light the mortal millions creep,
Yet listen, Balder!—still they murmur deep,
‘Lo! Death makes all things dark.’
In happy light the mortal millions creep,
Yet listen, Balder!—still they murmur deep,
‘Lo! Death makes all things dark.’
[Oh, listen! listen!] ‘Blessed is the light,
We love the golden day, the silvern night,
The cataracts leap, the woods and streams are bright,
We gladden as we mark.
We love the golden day, the silvern night,
The cataracts leap, the woods and streams are bright,
We gladden as we mark.
‘Crying we come, but soon our cheeks are dried—
We wander for a season happy-eyed,
And we forget how our gray sires have sigh'd,
“Lo! Death makes all things dark.”
We wander for a season happy-eyed,
And we forget how our gray sires have sigh'd,
“Lo! Death makes all things dark.”
‘For is the sun not merry and full of cheer?
Is it not sweet to live and feel no fear?
To see the young lambs leaping, and to hear
The cuckoo and the lark?
Is it not sweet to live and feel no fear?
To see the young lambs leaping, and to hear
The cuckoo and the lark?
‘Is toil not blest, is it not blest to be?
To climb the snows, to sail the surging sea,
To build our saeters where our flocks roam free?
But Death makes all things dark.
To climb the snows, to sail the surging sea,
To build our saeters where our flocks roam free?
But Death makes all things dark.
‘Is love not blest, is it not brave and gay
With strong right hand to bear one's bride away,
To woo her in the night time and the day
With no strange eyes to mark?
With strong right hand to bear one's bride away,
To woo her in the night time and the day
With no strange eyes to mark?
‘And blest are children, springing fair of face
Like gentle blossoms in the dwelling-place;
We clasp them close, forgetting for a space
Death makes the world so dark.
Like gentle blossoms in the dwelling-place;
We clasp them close, forgetting for a space
Death makes the world so dark.
‘And yet though life is glad and love divine,
This Shape we fear is here i' the summer shine,—
He blights the fruit we pluck, the wreath we twine,
And soon he leaves us stark.
This Shape we fear is here i' the summer shine,—
He blights the fruit we pluck, the wreath we twine,
And soon he leaves us stark.
‘He haunts us fleetly on the snowy steep,
He finds us as we sow and as we reap,
He creepeth in to slay us as we sleep,—
Ah! Death makes all things dark!
He finds us as we sow and as we reap,
He creepeth in to slay us as we sleep,—
Ah! Death makes all things dark!
‘Yea, when afar over our nets hang we,
He walks unto us even on the sea;
The wind blows in his hair, the foam flics free
O'er many a sinking bark!
He walks unto us even on the sea;
The wind blows in his hair, the foam flics free
O'er many a sinking bark!
‘Pity us, gods, and take this god away,
Pity us, gods, who made us out of clay,
Pity us, gods, that our sad souls may say,
“Bright is the world, which Death a space made dark.”’
Pity us, gods, who made us out of clay,
Pity us, gods, that our sad souls may say,
“Bright is the world, which Death a space made dark.”’
V. The Shadow on the Earth.
Now all his peace was poison'd and he found
No solace in the shining eyes of day,
Starlight and moonlight now seem'd sorrowful,
And in his soul there grew the sense of tears.
For wheresoe'er he wander'd, whatsoe'er
He gazed on, whether in the light or dark,
Was troubled by a portent.
No solace in the shining eyes of day,
Starlight and moonlight now seem'd sorrowful,
And in his soul there grew the sense of tears.
For wheresoe'er he wander'd, whatsoe'er
He gazed on, whether in the light or dark,
Was troubled by a portent.
Evermore,
Listening to nature's sad unceasing moan,
Balder remember'd that pale haunting Shape
Which he had seen in those primæval woods
Where he was foster'd by the happy Earth;
And those sad tales the mother-goddess told
Of mortal men, and how they waste and wane,
Came back upon his life with fearful gleams.
Yea, Balder's heart was heavy. All in vain
He wove wild runes around the flowers and trees,
And round the necks of beasts and gentle birds;
For evermore the cold hand found them out,
And evermore they darkly droop'd and died.
This direful thing was on the helpless Earth,
Unprison'd, unconfined. Before his face
It faded, and before his eager touch
Melted and changed, but evermore again
It gather'd into dreadful lineaments,
And passed with arms outreaching on its way.
Listening to nature's sad unceasing moan,
Balder remember'd that pale haunting Shape
Which he had seen in those primæval woods
Where he was foster'd by the happy Earth;
And those sad tales the mother-goddess told
Of mortal men, and how they waste and wane,
Came back upon his life with fearful gleams.
Yea, Balder's heart was heavy. All in vain
He wove wild runes around the flowers and trees,
And round the necks of beasts and gentle birds;
For evermore the cold hand found them out,
And evermore they darkly droop'd and died.
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Unprison'd, unconfined. Before his face
It faded, and before his eager touch
Melted and changed, but evermore again
It gather'd into dreadful lineaments,
And passed with arms outreaching on its way.
Then Balder lifted up his trembling hands
To heaven, crying, ‘Father!’ and no sound
Came from the frozen void; and once again,
‘O Mother, Mother!’ but pale Frea lay
Stone-still in anguish at the Father's feet,
And dared not answer; and he cried once more,
‘Gods, gods, immortal gods!’ when suddenly
He saw across the open arctic heaven
The hosts of Asgard, ev'n as sunset clouds
That drift confusedly in masses bright,
Trooping, with blood-red rays upon their heads,
To fight against the meteor snakes that flash
Far northward in the white untrodden wastes.
They passed, they saw not, but he heard their feet
Afar as muffled thunder, and he cried,
‘O Slayers of the snake, immortal gods,
Come hither and slay the slayer, that the world
May rest in peace!’
To heaven, crying, ‘Father!’ and no sound
Came from the frozen void; and once again,
‘O Mother, Mother!’ but pale Frea lay
Stone-still in anguish at the Father's feet,
And dared not answer; and he cried once more,
‘Gods, gods, immortal gods!’ when suddenly
He saw across the open arctic heaven
The hosts of Asgard, ev'n as sunset clouds
That drift confusedly in masses bright,
Trooping, with blood-red rays upon their heads,
To fight against the meteor snakes that flash
Far northward in the white untrodden wastes.
They passed, they saw not, but he heard their feet
Afar as muffled thunder, and he cried,
‘O Slayers of the snake, immortal gods,
Come hither and slay the slayer, that the world
May rest in peace!’
If ever his faint cry
Reach'd to their ears, the dark gods only smiled,
With smiles like sullen lightning on the lips
Of tempest; and he found no comfort there.
Nor from the mouths of flower, or bird, or tree,
Sea-fern, or sighing shell upon the shore,
Came any answer when he question'd low,
‘What is this thing ye fear? who sent it hither,
This shape which moaning mortals christen Death?’
But from the darkness of his own heart's pity,
And from all things in unison—the gloom
Of midnight, and the trouble of the clouds,
From sunless waters, solitary woods,
There came a murmur, ‘None can answer thee,
Save him thou followest with weary feet!’
Reach'd to their ears, the dark gods only smiled,
With smiles like sullen lightning on the lips
Of tempest; and he found no comfort there.
Nor from the mouths of flower, or bird, or tree,
Sea-fern, or sighing shell upon the shore,
Came any answer when he question'd low,
‘What is this thing ye fear? who sent it hither,
This shape which moaning mortals christen Death?’
But from the darkness of his own heart's pity,
And from all things in unison—the gloom
Of midnight, and the trouble of the clouds,
From sunless waters, solitary woods,
There came a murmur, ‘None can answer thee,
Save him thou followest with weary feet!’
Wherefore he wander'd on, and still in vain
Sought Death the slayer. Into burial-places,
Heapen with stones and seal'd with slime of grass.
He track'd him, found him sitting lonely there
Like one that dreams, his dreadful pitiless eyes
Fix'd on the sunset star. Or oftentimes
Beheld him running swiftly like a wolf
Who scents some stricken prey along the ground.
Or saw him into empty huts crawl slow,
And while the man and woman toiled i' the field,
Gaze down with stony orbs a little space
Upon the sickly babe, which open'd eyes,
And laugh'd, and spread its little faded hands
In elfin play. Nay, oft in Balder's sight
The form seem'd gentle, and the fatal face
Grew beautiful and very strangely fair.
Yet evermore while his swift feet pursued,
Darkling it fled away, and evermore
Most pitiful rose cries of beasts and birds,
Most desolate rose moans of stricken men,
Till Balder wept for sorrow's sake, and cried,
‘Help me, my Father!’
Sought Death the slayer. Into burial-places,
Heapen with stones and seal'd with slime of grass.
He track'd him, found him sitting lonely there
Like one that dreams, his dreadful pitiless eyes
Fix'd on the sunset star. Or oftentimes
Beheld him running swiftly like a wolf
Who scents some stricken prey along the ground.
Or saw him into empty huts crawl slow,
And while the man and woman toiled i' the field,
Gaze down with stony orbs a little space
Upon the sickly babe, which open'd eyes,
And laugh'd, and spread its little faded hands
In elfin play. Nay, oft in Balder's sight
The form seem'd gentle, and the fatal face
Grew beautiful and very strangely fair.
Yet evermore while his swift feet pursued,
Darkling it fled away, and evermore
Most pitiful rose cries of beasts and birds,
Most desolate rose moans of stricken men,
Till Balder wept for sorrow's sake, and cried,
‘Help me, my Father!’
Even as he spake,
A gray cloud wept upon the Earth, which wore
A gentle darkness; and the wastes and woods,
The mountains trembling in their hoary hair,
The mighty continents and streams and seas,
Uplifted a low voice of mystery
And protestation. Then a wingëd wind
Caught up the sound and bore it suddenly
To the great gates of Asgard, so that all
Within the shadowy City heard; and He
Who sitteth far beyond upon his throne,
Immortal, terrible, and desolate,
Heard, but was silent; and no answer came,
No help or answer, from the lips of heaven.
A gray cloud wept upon the Earth, which wore
A gentle darkness; and the wastes and woods,
The mountains trembling in their hoary hair,
The mighty continents and streams and seas,
Uplifted a low voice of mystery
And protestation. Then a wingëd wind
Caught up the sound and bore it suddenly
To the great gates of Asgard, so that all
Within the shadowy City heard; and He
Who sitteth far beyond upon his throne,
Immortal, terrible, and desolate,
Heard, but was silent; and no answer came,
No help or answer, from the lips of heaven.
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VI. On the Heights—Evening.
MOUNTAIN GIRL.Art thou a god? thy brow is shining so!
O thou art beautiful! What is thy name?
BALDER.
Balder.
GIRL.
Now let me look into thy face.
BALDER.
Look.
GIRL.
How I love thee!
BALDER.
And thy name?
GIRL.
Snow-blossom.
That is my mother standing at the door,
Shading her face and gazing up the hill.
I keep my mother's reindeer, and each night
Milk them, and drive them to their pasturage.
How clear thine eyes are! They are like that star
Up yonder, twinkling on the snow!
BALDER.
Come hither!
Thou hast bright hair like mine, and starry eyes,
Snow-blossom, and a voice like falling water;
Thy flesh is like the red snow and the white
Mingled together softly, and thy breath
Is scented like the fragrant thyme in flower.
Mine eyes have look'd on many shapes like thine—
Yet thou art fairest.
GIRL.
I am call'd Snow-blossom
Because I am not brown like other maids,
And when a little child I was so white!
BALDER.
Snow-lily!
GIRL.
They are calling—I must go—
Come down with me, and by our saeter's fire
Slumber this night, and ere thou liest down
I'll sing to thee the strange old songs I know
Of Death, and of the battle-fields of gods,
And of the wondrous City where they dwell
Yonder afar away!
BALDER.
What knowest thou
Of Death or gods?
GIRL.
Only last winter tide
I saw my father die: he drew one breath,
Then went to sleep; but when we touch'd his hands
They had no warmth, and his twain eyes were glazed,
Gazing at something that we saw not. Then
We wrapt him warm in skins and in his hands
We set his seal-spear and his seal-hide thong,
And placed him sitting in the sunless earth,
Crouch'd resting on the ground with knees drawn up
As many a night he sat beside the fire.
And that the fierce white bear might find him not,
We wall'd him up with earth and mighty stones,
Seal'd tight with snow and water: then we said
A prayer to the good gods, and left him there
Where they might find him.
BALDER.
Hast thou seen that Death
Which smote thy father?
GIRL.
Nay!—no mortal thing
Sees him and lives. He walks about the Earth
At his good will, and smites whate'er he lists,
Both young and old. There is no spirit at all
More strong than he!
BALDER.
Is he a god?
GIRL.
I know not.
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And will thy father waken?
GIRL.
When the gods
Find out his grave, and open up the stones,
Then he will waken, and will join the hosts
Of Hermod and of Thor; for he was brave,
My father: he could keep his own, and ere
He took my mother, with his spear he slew
Her father and her brother, who were wroth
Because they hated him; and evermore
When he shed blood, he made his offering
To Hermod and the rest.
BALDER.
And thou, Snow-blossom,
Thou in thy turn wilt wed a mighty man,
And bear strong children?
GIRL.
Yes!—a man of strength,
Fair like my father. I would have him fierce
As bears are, bearded, a seal-strangler, swift,
And a great hunter with a boat and dogs.
But I would have him very cunning too,
Knowing old songs and wise at weaving runes,
That in the season when the sun is fled
We might be merry thro' the long cold nights
Waiting for summer!
BALDER.
Hark!
GIRL.
It is my mother
Calling again! Wilt thou not come?
BALDER.
Go thou!
I shall fare further o'er the summer hills.
Snow-blossom! Let me kiss thee ere thou goest!
GIRL.
Yes!
BALDER.
Now farewell! . . .
How lightly down the height
She leapeth with the leaping cataract,
And now she turns and waves her little hand,
And plunging down she fades. And in the world
Dwell countless thousands beautiful as she,
Happy and virgin, drinking with no pain
The vital air of heaven! O pink flesh
Over the warm nest of a singing heart
Heap'd soft as blossoms! O strange starry eyes
Of mortals, beautiful as mine! O flame
Out of soft nostrils trembling, like the light
From lips of flowers! O wonder of Earth's life,
Why is it that the great gods chase thee down?
Why is it that thou fallest evermore
When thou art fairest? Up and down the world
Each creature walks, and o'er each red mouth hangs
Breath like a little cloud, faint smoke of breath
Blown from the burning of the fire within.
Great gods, if as they say ye fashion'd them,
Why do ye suffer this wild wind of doom
To wither what ye made so wonderful?
She leapeth with the leaping cataract,
And now she turns and waves her little hand,
And plunging down she fades. And in the world
Dwell countless thousands beautiful as she,
Happy and virgin, drinking with no pain
The vital air of heaven! O pink flesh
Over the warm nest of a singing heart
Heap'd soft as blossoms! O strange starry eyes
Of mortals, beautiful as mine! O flame
Out of soft nostrils trembling, like the light
From lips of flowers! O wonder of Earth's life,
Why is it that the great gods chase thee down?
Why is it that thou fallest evermore
When thou art fairest? Up and down the world
Each creature walks, and o'er each red mouth hangs
Breath like a little cloud, faint smoke of breath
Blown from the burning of the fire within.
Great gods, if as they say ye fashion'd them,
Why do ye suffer this wild wind of doom
To wither what ye made so wonderful?
The vale is dark, the snow-fields on the height
Are purpled with the midnight. . . . . Steadfastly
One lamp shines in the valley, and above
The still star shines an answer. Slumber well,
Snow-blossom! May no shadow of the gods
Come near to trouble thee in thy repose!
Sleep like immortal raiment wrap thee round,
To charm away the rayless eyes of Death!
Are purpled with the midnight. . . . . Steadfastly
One lamp shines in the valley, and above
The still star shines an answer. Slumber well,
Snow-blossom! May no shadow of the gods
Come near to trouble thee in thy repose!
Sleep like immortal raiment wrap thee round,
To charm away the rayless eyes of Death!
VII. The Vow of Balder.
Bright Balder cried, ‘Curst be this thing
Which will not let man rest,
Slaying with swift and cruel sting
The very babe at breast!
Which will not let man rest,
Slaying with swift and cruel sting
The very babe at breast!
‘On man and beast, on flower and bird,
He creepeth evermore;
Unseen he haunts the Earth; unheard
He crawls from door to door.
He creepeth evermore;
Unseen he haunts the Earth; unheard
He crawls from door to door.
‘I will not pause in any land,
Nor sleep beneath the skies,
Till I have held him by the hand
And gazed into his eyes!’
Nor sleep beneath the skies,
Till I have held him by the hand
And gazed into his eyes!’
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V. BALDER'S QUEST FOR DEATH.
I.
He sought him on the mountains bleak and bare
And on the windy moors;
He found his secret footprints everywhere,
Yea, ev'n by human doors.
And on the windy moors;
He found his secret footprints everywhere,
Yea, ev'n by human doors.
All round the deerfold on the shrouded height
The starlight glimmer'd clear;
Therein sat Death, wrapt round with vapours white
Touching the dove-eyed deer.
The starlight glimmer'd clear;
Therein sat Death, wrapt round with vapours white
Touching the dove-eyed deer.
And thither Balder silent-footed flew,
But found the phantom not;
The rain-wash'd moon had risen cold and blue
Above that lonely spot.
But found the phantom not;
The rain-wash'd moon had risen cold and blue
Above that lonely spot.
Then as he stood and listen'd, gazing round
In the pale silvern glow,
He heard a wailing and a weeping sound
From the wild huts below.
In the pale silvern glow,
He heard a wailing and a weeping sound
From the wild huts below.
He mark'd the sudden flashing of the lights,
He heard cry answering cry—
And lo! he saw upon the silent heights
A shadowy form pass by.
He heard cry answering cry—
And lo! he saw upon the silent heights
A shadowy form pass by.
Wan was the face, the eyeballs pale and wild,
The robes like rain wind-blown,
And as it fled it clasp'd a naked child
Unto its cold breast-bone.
The robes like rain wind-blown,
And as it fled it clasp'd a naked child
Unto its cold breast-bone.
And Balder clutch'd its robe with fingers weak
To stay it as it flew—
A breath of ice blew chill upon his cheek,
Blinding his eyes of blue.
To stay it as it flew—
A breath of ice blew chill upon his cheek,
Blinding his eyes of blue.
'Twas Death! 'twas gone!—All night the shepherds sped,
Searching the hills in fear;
At dawn they found their lost one lying dead
Up by the lone black mere;
Searching the hills in fear;
At dawn they found their lost one lying dead
Up by the lone black mere;
And lo! they saw the fatal finger-mark,
Which reacheth young and old,
Seal'd, livid still, upon its eyelids dark
And round its nipples cold.
Which reacheth young and old,
Seal'd, livid still, upon its eyelids dark
And round its nipples cold.
Then Balder moan'd aloud and smote his breast,
‘O drinker of sweet breath,
Curst be thy cruel lips! I shall not rest
Until I clasp thee, Death!’
‘O drinker of sweet breath,
Curst be thy cruel lips! I shall not rest
Until I clasp thee, Death!’
He track'd the footprints in the morning gray
From rocky haunt to haunt.
Far up the heights a wolf had crost Death's way;
It lay there, lean and gaunt.
From rocky haunt to haunt.
Far up the heights a wolf had crost Death's way;
It lay there, lean and gaunt.
He reach'd the highest snows and found them strewn
With bleaching bones of deer. . . .
Night came again,—he listen'd 'neath the moon
Shining most cold and clear.
With bleaching bones of deer. . . .
Night came again,—he listen'd 'neath the moon
Shining most cold and clear.
Beneath him stretch'd vast valleys green and fair,
Still in the twilight shine,
With great waste tarns and cataracts hung in air,
And woods of fir and pine;
Still in the twilight shine,
With great waste tarns and cataracts hung in air,
And woods of fir and pine;
And on the tarns lay dim red dreams of day
The midnight sun cast there,—
Sunlight and moonlight blending in one rav
Of mother-o'-pearl most fair.
The midnight sun cast there,—
Sunlight and moonlight blending in one rav
Of mother-o'-pearl most fair.
He wander'd down thro' woods that flinged the snows,
Down cliffs with ivy crown'd,
He passed by lonely tarns whence duskly rose
Great cranes, and hover'd round.
Down cliffs with ivy crown'd,
He passed by lonely tarns whence duskly rose
Great cranes, and hover'd round.
He paused upon a crimson crag, and lo!
Deep down at the crag's foot,
The Shape he sought, in shadow, far below,
With folded wings, sat mute!
Deep down at the crag's foot,
The Shape he sought, in shadow, far below,
With folded wings, sat mute!
Ev'n as a vulture of the east it seem'd
Brooding on something dead;
Dark was the form on which its cold eyes gleam'd,
And still and heavy as lead.
Brooding on something dead;
Dark was the form on which its cold eyes gleam'd,
And still and heavy as lead.
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Then Balder swung himself from tree to tree,
And reach'd the fatal place! . . .
The phantom fled as silent wild things flee,
But a white human face
And reach'd the fatal place! . . .
The phantom fled as silent wild things flee,
But a white human face
Gleam'd from the ground; and Balder's glory shone
On a wild cowherd's hair!
Too late—his cheeks were chill—his breath was gone—
His bosom torn and bare.
On a wild cowherd's hair!
Too late—his cheeks were chill—his breath was gone—
His bosom torn and bare.
The Shape unseen had cast him o'er the steep,
Down, down, the abysses dim,—
Then, as an eagle followeth a sheep,
Had flutter'd after him!
Down, down, the abysses dim,—
Then, as an eagle followeth a sheep,
Had flutter'd after him!
His bearskin dress was bloody; in his grip
He clutch'd a cowherd's horn;
His eyes were glazed, and on his stainëd lip
Death's kisses lay forlorn.
He clutch'd a cowherd's horn;
His eyes were glazed, and on his stainëd lip
Death's kisses lay forlorn.
But Balder touch'd him and his face grew fair,
Shining beneath the skies,
Yea, Balder crost his hands, and smooth'd his hair,
And closed his piteous eyes. . . .
Shining beneath the skies,
Yea, Balder crost his hands, and smooth'd his hair,
And closed his piteous eyes. . . .
Not resting yet, the bright god wander'd soon
Down by the torrent's track;
And lo! a sudden glory hid the moon,
And dawn rose at his back.
Down by the torrent's track;
And lo! a sudden glory hid the moon,
And dawn rose at his back.
II.
Dawn purple on the peaks, and pouring in floods
Into the valleys fair,
Encrimsoning the lakes and streams and woods,
Illuming heaven and air.
Into the valleys fair,
Encrimsoning the lakes and streams and woods,
Illuming heaven and air.
And every creature gladden'd, and the Earth
Turn'd on her side and woke:
There came sweet music; sunny gleams of mirth
Across the landscape broke.
Turn'd on her side and woke:
There came sweet music; sunny gleams of mirth
Across the landscape broke.
And when a thousand eyes of happy things
Had open'd all around,
And when each form that blooms, each form that sings,
Saw Balder glory-crown'd,
Had open'd all around,
And when each form that blooms, each form that sings,
Saw Balder glory-crown'd,
Standing like marble bathed in liquid flame,
Perfect of face and limb,
Infinite voices syllabled his name,
And Earth smiled up at him!
Perfect of face and limb,
Infinite voices syllabled his name,
And Earth smiled up at him!
All shapes that knew him (and all shapes that be
Knew Balder's face that hour)
Grew glorified—the torrent and the tree,
The white cloud and the flower.
Knew Balder's face that hour)
Grew glorified—the torrent and the tree,
The white cloud and the flower.
The meres flash'd golden mirrors for his face;
The forests saw and heard;
The cataracts brighten'd; in its secret place
The sunless runlet stirred.
The forests saw and heard;
The cataracts brighten'd; in its secret place
The sunless runlet stirred.
A light of green grass ran before his feet,
His brow was bright with dew,
Where'er he trod there sprang a flower full sweet,
Rose, crimson, yellow, or blue.
His brow was bright with dew,
Where'er he trod there sprang a flower full sweet,
Rose, crimson, yellow, or blue.
But Balder's face was pale, altho' his frame
Its natal splendour wore;
Altho' the green Earth gladden'd as he came,
God Balder's soul was sore.
Its natal splendour wore;
Altho' the green Earth gladden'd as he came,
God Balder's soul was sore.
‘O happy Earth! O happy beams of day!
O gentle things of breath!
Blest were ye, if some hand divine might slay
The slayer, even Death!’
O gentle things of breath!
Blest were ye, if some hand divine might slay
The slayer, even Death!’
He spake, and he was answer'd. By his side
A crimson river ran,
Out of the cloven mountains spreading wide
It water'd vales for man.
A crimson river ran,
Out of the cloven mountains spreading wide
It water'd vales for man.
Amid its shallows flowers and sedge did twine,
But in the midst 'twas deep,
And on its sides fed flocks of goats and kine
O'er meadows soft as sleep.
But in the midst 'twas deep,
And on its sides fed flocks of goats and kine
O'er meadows soft as sleep.
Suddenly, while upon its marge he stood,
His heart grew cold as clay,—
For lo! the phantom! sailing down the flood,
Dim in the dawn of day! . . .
His heart grew cold as clay,—
For lo! the phantom! sailing down the flood,
Dim in the dawn of day! . . .
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'Mid drifted foxglove-bells and leaves of green
Uptorn and floating light,
There came, with face upturn'd, now hid, now seen,
A maiden dark as night—
Uptorn and floating light,
There came, with face upturn'd, now hid, now seen,
A maiden dark as night—
Her raven hair was loosen'd, her soft breath
Had fled and left no stir,
Her eyes were open, looking up at Death,
Who drifted down with her.
Had fled and left no stir,
Her eyes were open, looking up at Death,
Who drifted down with her.
Beside her, tangled 'mid the foxglove-bells,
A shepherd's crook was cast,
While softly on the waters silvern swells
Her form was floating past.
A shepherd's crook was cast,
While softly on the waters silvern swells
Her form was floating past.
And lo! with eyes of feverish fatal light
Fix'd on her face in dream,
Death clung unto her 'mid the eddies bright
Upon the shining stream.
Fix'd on her face in dream,
Death clung unto her 'mid the eddies bright
Upon the shining stream.
And Balder wail'd; and wafted down that way,
Death saw his shape and knew,—
Then, like a falcon startled from its prey,
Rose, vanishing from view!
Death saw his shape and knew,—
Then, like a falcon startled from its prey,
Rose, vanishing from view!
III. The Fight of Ships.
Now Balder came across the great sea-shore,
And saw far out upon the windless waves
A fight of water-dragons fierce as fire,
Wingëd and wild and wrought about with gold.
And dragon unto dragon clash'd and clung,
And each shriek'd loud, and teeth in teeth were set,
Until the sea was crimson'd, and one sank
In its own blood. So like to living things
They seem'd, but ships they were within whose wombs
Throbbed many savage hearts. And suddenly,
Amid that clangour of sharp steel and shriek
Of living voices, 'mid the thick o' the fight,
When in the stainëd waters all around
Men to the brain were cloven as they swam,
Balder saw dimly, hovering on wings,
Ev'n as the kestrel hovers poised and still
With glittering eyes searching the nether ground,
The Shape he sought. As the bright dragons rush'd
This way and that with rapid sweep of oars,
And as the tumult passed from wave to wave,
It follow'd, as the falcon followeth
Some fearful quarry creeping on the ground.
And when the sunset came, and the great din
Was hush'd, and torn apart from one another
The dragons darken'd on a fiery sea,
The Shape, illumined with a crimson gleam,
Still linger'd o'er them very quietly,
Scenting the slain that drifted like to weeds
On the red waters, shoreward.
And saw far out upon the windless waves
A fight of water-dragons fierce as fire,
Wingëd and wild and wrought about with gold.
And dragon unto dragon clash'd and clung,
And each shriek'd loud, and teeth in teeth were set,
Until the sea was crimson'd, and one sank
In its own blood. So like to living things
They seem'd, but ships they were within whose wombs
Throbbed many savage hearts. And suddenly,
Amid that clangour of sharp steel and shriek
Of living voices, 'mid the thick o' the fight,
When in the stainëd waters all around
Men to the brain were cloven as they swam,
Balder saw dimly, hovering on wings,
Ev'n as the kestrel hovers poised and still
With glittering eyes searching the nether ground,
The Shape he sought. As the bright dragons rush'd
This way and that with rapid sweep of oars,
And as the tumult passed from wave to wave,
It follow'd, as the falcon followeth
Some fearful quarry creeping on the ground.
And when the sunset came, and the great din
Was hush'd, and torn apart from one another
The dragons darken'd on a fiery sea,
The Shape, illumined with a crimson gleam,
Still linger'd o'er them very quietly,
Scenting the slain that drifted like to weeds
On the red waters, shoreward.
Then aloud
Cried Balder, ‘Father!’ uttering from his heart
A bitter moan, and as he spake he saw,
All congregating on the brazen walls
Of sunset, with their wild eyes looking down,
Feeding upon the carnage of the fight,
The gods his kin; and like to evening clouds,
Crimson and golden in the sunset flame,
They would perchance have seem'd to human eyes,
But his perceived them clearly and discern'd
The rapture in their faces as they gazed.
Yet ne'ertheless he cried, ‘Come down, ye gods,
And help me, that upon this fatal thing
I lay my hand!’ They laugh'd reply, and lo!
He saw their banners raised i' the wind, their brands
Flashing and moving.
Cried Balder, ‘Father!’ uttering from his heart
A bitter moan, and as he spake he saw,
All congregating on the brazen walls
Of sunset, with their wild eyes looking down,
Feeding upon the carnage of the fight,
The gods his kin; and like to evening clouds,
Crimson and golden in the sunset flame,
They would perchance have seem'd to human eyes,
But his perceived them clearly and discern'd
The rapture in their faces as they gazed.
Yet ne'ertheless he cried, ‘Come down, ye gods,
And help me, that upon this fatal thing
I lay my hand!’ They laugh'd reply, and lo!
He saw their banners raised i' the wind, their brands
Flashing and moving.
‘Father!’
No reply;
But quiet as a curtain fell the night,
Solemn, without a star.
But quiet as a curtain fell the night,
Solemn, without a star.
Then by the sea
Silent walk'd Balder, and all sounds were still
Beyond him on the bosom of the deep.
And where he went along the moonless sands
He made a brightness such as ocean shells
Keep in their iris'd ears; and the soft sea
Came singing round his silvern feet; and doves
Came out of caves and lit upon his hands.
Then Balder thought, ‘He answer'd, and has sent
The darkness as a token!’ and ev'n then
He blest his father.
Silent walk'd Balder, and all sounds were still
Beyond him on the bosom of the deep.
And where he went along the moonless sands
He made a brightness such as ocean shells
Keep in their iris'd ears; and the soft sea
Came singing round his silvern feet; and doves
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Then Balder thought, ‘He answer'd, and has sent
The darkness as a token!’ and ev'n then
He blest his father.
. . . What is this that flames,
Lurid and awful, out upon the sea?
What dusky radiance, tho' the world is dark,
Shoots like a comet yonder upon the sky?
Seized in the fangs of fire, a dragon-ship
Consumes and shrieks, and as it burns illumes
The water under and the thunderous rack
Blackening above; and Balder as he stands
Pallid upon a headland, on his face
Catches the red reflection of the ray;
Ocean and sky are crimson'd, and he sees
Black shapes that hither and thither, waving arms,
Dart 'midst the flame on the consuming decks
And plunge with shrill scream down into the sea.
Lurid and awful, out upon the sea?
What dusky radiance, tho' the world is dark,
Shoots like a comet yonder upon the sky?
Seized in the fangs of fire, a dragon-ship
Consumes and shrieks, and as it burns illumes
The water under and the thunderous rack
Blackening above; and Balder as he stands
Pallid upon a headland, on his face
Catches the red reflection of the ray;
Ocean and sky are crimson'd, and he sees
Black shapes that hither and thither, waving arms,
Dart 'midst the flame on the consuming decks
And plunge with shrill scream down into the sea.
What care to call on the Immortals now?
He looks, one hand prest hard in agony
Upon his aching heart, and he discerns,
Brooding above that brightness, poised i' the air,
Down gazing, half illumed, half lost in light,
The Phantom! As the ship consumes and fades,
And as the last cry rises on the air,
The Shape sinks lower with no waft of wing.
And when in dumb and passionate despair,
Balder looks northward once again, he sees
The cloud-rack parted, the cold north on fire,
And all the gods, with cruel cheeks aflame
And bright eyes glittering like cluster'd stars,
Thronging against the blacken'd bars of Heaven.
He looks, one hand prest hard in agony
Upon his aching heart, and he discerns,
Brooding above that brightness, poised i' the air,
Down gazing, half illumed, half lost in light,
The Phantom! As the ship consumes and fades,
And as the last cry rises on the air,
The Shape sinks lower with no waft of wing.
And when in dumb and passionate despair,
Balder looks northward once again, he sees
The cloud-rack parted, the cold north on fire,
And all the gods, with cruel cheeks aflame
And bright eyes glittering like cluster'd stars,
Thronging against the blacken'd bars of Heaven.
IV. Ydun.
Then Balder lifted up his voice and cried,
‘Curst be this thing and you who sent it hither,
Tho' ye be gods, immortal, and my kin;
For now I loathe you, deeming lovelier far
The black hawk, and the fox upon the ground,
Who slay sweet lives not knowing what they do;
But ye, O gods, are wise, yet Death's sick scent
Is pleasant to your nostrils.’ Loudly afar
A laugh of thunder answer'd, and the shapes
Still congregated in the glistening north
Flash'd like the pale aurora one white gleam
Of earthward-looking eyes, and in the midst
A hoary Face like to a moonlit cloud,
Silent, and staring down with orbs of stone.
And on this last did Balder gaze, and lo!
He shiver'd cold, his cheek divine was blanch'd,
And with no further word he turn'd away.
‘Curst be this thing and you who sent it hither,
Tho' ye be gods, immortal, and my kin;
For now I loathe you, deeming lovelier far
The black hawk, and the fox upon the ground,
Who slay sweet lives not knowing what they do;
But ye, O gods, are wise, yet Death's sick scent
Is pleasant to your nostrils.’ Loudly afar
A laugh of thunder answer'd, and the shapes
Still congregated in the glistening north
Flash'd like the pale aurora one white gleam
Of earthward-looking eyes, and in the midst
A hoary Face like to a moonlit cloud,
Silent, and staring down with orbs of stone.
And on this last did Balder gaze, and lo!
He shiver'd cold, his cheek divine was blanch'd,
And with no further word he turn'd away.
. . . So walk'd he by the Ocean, till that gleam
Far out upon the crimson waters died;
Till night grew deeper and all sounds were still'd.
Far out upon the crimson waters died;
Till night grew deeper and all sounds were still'd.
And all that night his human heart was turn'd
Against the gods his kin, against the god
His father; for he thought, ‘He made this thing,
He sent it hither to the happy Earth;
And when it slays they gladden in the halls
Of Asgard, and no pity fills their hearts
For gentle stricken men.’ Long hours he paced
The cold sands of the still black sea; and where
His foot fell moonlight lay and live seasnails
Crept glimmering with pink horns; and close to shore
He saw the legions of the herring flash,
Swift, phosphorescent, on the surface shining
Like bright sheet-lightning as they came and went.
At intervals, from the abyss beyond,
Came the deep roar of whales.
Against the gods his kin, against the god
His father; for he thought, ‘He made this thing,
He sent it hither to the happy Earth;
And when it slays they gladden in the halls
Of Asgard, and no pity fills their hearts
For gentle stricken men.’ Long hours he paced
The cold sands of the still black sea; and where
His foot fell moonlight lay and live seasnails
Crept glimmering with pink horns; and close to shore
He saw the legions of the herring flash,
Swift, phosphorescent, on the surface shining
Like bright sheet-lightning as they came and went.
At intervals, from the abyss beyond,
Came the deep roar of whales.
Betimes he stood
Silent, alone, upon a promontory
And now about him like white rain there fell
The splendour of the moonlight. All around
The calm sea rolled upon the rocks or drew
Dark surges from the caverns, issuing thence
Troubled and churn'd to boiling pools of foam.
Erect he stood, uplifting his white hands;
For round him on the slippery weed-hung reefs,
Outcreeping from the blackness of the sea,
In legions came the flocks of gentle seals
And gray sea lions with their lionesses.
And o'er the rocks they clomb till all the place
Was blacken'd, and the rest upon the sea,
Their liquid eyeballs in the moonlight burning,
Swam round and round with necks outstretch'd to gaze;
And those beneath him touch'd his shining feet,
And when he raised his hand and blest them all,
Uplifted heads like happy flocks of sheep
Bleating their joy!
Silent, alone, upon a promontory
And now about him like white rain there fell
The splendour of the moonlight. All around
The calm sea rolled upon the rocks or drew
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Troubled and churn'd to boiling pools of foam.
Erect he stood, uplifting his white hands;
For round him on the slippery weed-hung reefs,
Outcreeping from the blackness of the sea,
In legions came the flocks of gentle seals
And gray sea lions with their lionesses.
And o'er the rocks they clomb till all the place
Was blacken'd, and the rest upon the sea,
Their liquid eyeballs in the moonlight burning,
Swam round and round with necks outstretch'd to gaze;
And those beneath him touch'd his shining feet,
And when he raised his hand and blest them all,
Uplifted heads like happy flocks of sheep
Bleating their joy!
Ev'n then he heard a voice
Cry ‘Balder!’ thrice, and turning he beheld
Standing above him on the promontory
A spirit he remember'd; for her hair
Swept downward like the silvern willow's leaves,
And on her mystic raiment blue as heaven
There glimmer'd dewy drops like heavenly stars.
And as he turn'd unto her he perceived
Her deathlike pallor, and he straightway knew
He look'd on Ydun, who had given to him
Those mystic apples which immortal forms
For ever feed on evermore renew'd.
Cry ‘Balder!’ thrice, and turning he beheld
Standing above him on the promontory
A spirit he remember'd; for her hair
Swept downward like the silvern willow's leaves,
And on her mystic raiment blue as heaven
There glimmer'd dewy drops like heavenly stars.
And as he turn'd unto her he perceived
Her deathlike pallor, and he straightway knew
He look'd on Ydun, who had given to him
Those mystic apples which immortal forms
For ever feed on evermore renew'd.
And Ydun said, ‘O Balder, I could hear
Thy lone cry yonder in the silent realms
Where, gathering golden asphodels in meads
Of starlight under the dark Tree, I stray'd;
And all my heart was troubled for thy sake,
My brother, and I came across the worlds
To seek thee, bringing in my veilëd breast
More fruits to heal thee and to make thee strong
Despite the gods who love thee not, thy kin;
For I who bring them love thee, knowing well
There stands no shape in the celestial halls
So beautiful as thou!’
Thy lone cry yonder in the silent realms
Where, gathering golden asphodels in meads
Of starlight under the dark Tree, I stray'd;
And all my heart was troubled for thy sake,
My brother, and I came across the worlds
To seek thee, bringing in my veilëd breast
More fruits to heal thee and to make thee strong
Despite the gods who love thee not, thy kin;
For I who bring them love thee, knowing well
There stands no shape in the celestial halls
So beautiful as thou!’
And as she spake
She drew the apples forth and proffer'd them
To Balder's lips; but on those lips there lay
An ashen tinge as of mortality.
And taking not the gift he answer'd low,
‘O Ydun, let me give thy gift to men,
That they may eat and live!’
She drew the apples forth and proffer'd them
To Balder's lips; but on those lips there lay
An ashen tinge as of mortality.
And taking not the gift he answer'd low,
‘O Ydun, let me give thy gift to men,
That they may eat and live!’
But Ydun said,
While on his cheek he felt her breath come cold
As frosty moonlight,—‘Name them not, but eat—
Eat thou, and live. O Balder, men were born
To gather earthly fruit a little space,
And then, grown old with sudden lapse of years,
To wither up and die; and fruit like this
Could never light on any human lip
The flame-like breath of immortality.
Flesh are they, and must fall; spirits are we,
And fed with life diviner, we endure.’
While on his cheek he felt her breath come cold
As frosty moonlight,—‘Name them not, but eat—
Eat thou, and live. O Balder, men were born
To gather earthly fruit a little space,
And then, grown old with sudden lapse of years,
To wither up and die; and fruit like this
Could never light on any human lip
The flame-like breath of immortality.
Flesh are they, and must fall; spirits are we,
And fed with life diviner, we endure.’
Then Balder said, ‘Dost thou not weep for them?
Poor mortals with their shadows on the ground,
Yet kin to thee and me! He made them fair
As we are, tho' they sicken and are slain;
Yea, by a god accurst that haunts the world
Their hearts are set asunder, and their teeth
Devour each other. Lo! the beautiful Earth
Is desolate of children, strewn with dead,
Sick with a ceaseless moan of stricken things
For ever coming and for ever going,—
Like wild waves darkly driven on a sea
Eternally distress'd.’
Poor mortals with their shadows on the ground,
Yet kin to thee and me! He made them fair
As we are, tho' they sicken and are slain;
Yea, by a god accurst that haunts the world
Their hearts are set asunder, and their teeth
Devour each other. Lo! the beautiful Earth
Is desolate of children, strewn with dead,
Sick with a ceaseless moan of stricken things
For ever coming and for ever going,—
Like wild waves darkly driven on a sea
Eternally distress'd.’
Coldly replied
The goddess, ‘Take no heed for things of clay,—
For 'twere as well to weep for stricken birds,
Or flowers that in their season fade and fall,
Or beasts that mortals slay for food or cast
Upon thy Father's shrines for sacrifice,
As mourn for that dark dust beneath thy feet
Which thou call'st men. O Balder, take no heed—
Be wise—such pity ill beseems a god!’
The goddess, ‘Take no heed for things of clay,—
For 'twere as well to weep for stricken birds,
Or flowers that in their season fade and fall,
Or beasts that mortals slay for food or cast
Upon thy Father's shrines for sacrifice,
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Which thou call'st men. O Balder, take no heed—
Be wise—such pity ill beseems a god!’
But Balder wrung his hands and wail'd aloud
In a sad human voice, ‘Not pity those?
Hath a bird fallen in my sight and fail'd
To win some meed of tears? Doth a beast die,
I would not wind in my immortal arms,
And kiss into a new and lovelier life?
And on the dead leaves shed i' the weary woods
Do I not strew my tears divine, like dew?
O Ydun, listen, for thou know'st me not.
The taint of clay is on me and I lack
The large cold marble heart befitting gods.
I drank strange mercy from the dark Earth's breast
When she my foster-mother suckled me
Close to her leafy heart; I am not wise,
Ay me, I am not wise, if not to love
The happy forms below me, and the faces
That love my voice—and gladden in my smile,
Be wisdom; I am of them; I have learn'd
The pathos of the setting sun, the awe
Of moonlight and of starlight; nay, I dream
That shape which sets its icy hand on all
Will find me in my season like the rest.
They are my brethren, wanderers in the world,
Yet fatherless and outcast like myself,
And exiled from their home!’
In a sad human voice, ‘Not pity those?
Hath a bird fallen in my sight and fail'd
To win some meed of tears? Doth a beast die,
I would not wind in my immortal arms,
And kiss into a new and lovelier life?
And on the dead leaves shed i' the weary woods
Do I not strew my tears divine, like dew?
O Ydun, listen, for thou know'st me not.
The taint of clay is on me and I lack
The large cold marble heart befitting gods.
I drank strange mercy from the dark Earth's breast
When she my foster-mother suckled me
Close to her leafy heart; I am not wise,
Ay me, I am not wise, if not to love
The happy forms below me, and the faces
That love my voice—and gladden in my smile,
Be wisdom; I am of them; I have learn'd
The pathos of the setting sun, the awe
Of moonlight and of starlight; nay, I dream
That shape which sets its icy hand on all
Will find me in my season like the rest.
They are my brethren, wanderers in the world,
Yet fatherless and outcast like myself,
And exiled from their home!’
But Ydun said,
‘That shape which sets its icy hand on all
Need never trouble thee, if thou wilt eat,
Eat as I bid, and live;—nay, Death himself,
Tame as a hound some little child may lead,
Hath fed from out my hand and from my fruits
Drank immortality; and lo, he walks
Immortal among mortals, on Earth's ways
Shedding the sad leaves of humanity.
For this is written, they must die; and those
Who die in battle or with bloody hands
The gods redeem and snatch to deathless days
Of terror in Valhalla; but the rest,
Weak maiden-hearted men and women pale,
And children, dying bloodless, find below
A nameless and an everlasting sleep.’
‘That shape which sets its icy hand on all
Need never trouble thee, if thou wilt eat,
Eat as I bid, and live;—nay, Death himself,
Tame as a hound some little child may lead,
Hath fed from out my hand and from my fruits
Drank immortality; and lo, he walks
Immortal among mortals, on Earth's ways
Shedding the sad leaves of humanity.
For this is written, they must die; and those
Who die in battle or with bloody hands
The gods redeem and snatch to deathless days
Of terror in Valhalla; but the rest,
Weak maiden-hearted men and women pale,
And children, dying bloodless, find below
A nameless and an everlasting sleep.’
‘O Ydun,’ Balder cried, ‘I have search'd the Earth,
And have not found him, tho' my spirit pants
To look into his face and question him,
That Death of whom you speak, that fantasy,
Immortal, and a god; but evermore
His form eludes me in the light and dark,
And evermore beneath my feet I find
Only some gentle shape that he hath slain.’
And have not found him, tho' my spirit pants
To look into his face and question him,
That Death of whom you speak, that fantasy,
Immortal, and a god; but evermore
His form eludes me in the light and dark,
And evermore beneath my feet I find
Only some gentle shape that he hath slain.’
Then Ydun smiled as pallid starlight smiles
On marble, and she answer'd, ‘Eat, then eat!
And by the gods of Asgard I will swear
To lead thee to him and to read a rune
Which whisper'd in his ear shall make him meek
And weak as any lamb to do thy will;’
And as she spake she held the apples forth
And proffer'd them again to Balder's lips.
On marble, and she answer'd, ‘Eat, then eat!
And by the gods of Asgard I will swear
To lead thee to him and to read a rune
Which whisper'd in his ear shall make him meek
And weak as any lamb to do thy will;’
And as she spake she held the apples forth
And proffer'd them again to Balder's lips.
Then hungry for her promise Balder ate,
And in his mouth the mingled red and white
Melted as snow, and suddenly he seem'd
Grown into perfect glory like the moon
Springing all silvern from a summer cloud.
And in his mouth the mingled red and white
Melted as snow, and suddenly he seem'd
Grown into perfect glory like the moon
Springing all silvern from a summer cloud.
VI. BALDER AND DEATH.
I. The Altar of Sacrifice.
‘Look!’ Ydun said; and pointed.
Far in the night
She had led Balder,—o'er the darken'd dales,
And by the silence of black mountain tarns,
And thro' the slumber of primæval woods,—
Till she had come unto an open plain
Cover'd with ragged heath and strewn with stones
As with the broken fragments of some world
Upheaven, rent by earthquake. And the waste
All round was lonely and illimitable,
A tract of stone and heath without a tree,
Save where against the blood-red northern sky
A mountain like the great white hand of Earth
Pointed at highest heaven. Far out beyond
The shadow of the snowy mountain, rose
Columns gigantic of red granite rock
Scarr'd with the tempest, hung with slimy moss,
And looming in the cold and spectral light
Like living shapes of gods; and some by storm
Were cast upon the ground and lay full length
Like giants slain, but most stood poised on end,
Not tottering, with their shadows wildly cast
Southward, along the sward. High in the midst
Stones fashion'd as an altar were upraised,
And on the altar was a coffin'd space
Wherein a man full-grown might lie his length
And with his pleading eyes upon the stars
Make ready for the sacrificial knife.
She had led Balder,—o'er the darken'd dales,
And by the silence of black mountain tarns,
And thro' the slumber of primæval woods,—
Till she had come unto an open plain
Cover'd with ragged heath and strewn with stones
As with the broken fragments of some world
Upheaven, rent by earthquake. And the waste
All round was lonely and illimitable,
A tract of stone and heath without a tree,
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A mountain like the great white hand of Earth
Pointed at highest heaven. Far out beyond
The shadow of the snowy mountain, rose
Columns gigantic of red granite rock
Scarr'd with the tempest, hung with slimy moss,
And looming in the cold and spectral light
Like living shapes of gods; and some by storm
Were cast upon the ground and lay full length
Like giants slain, but most stood poised on end,
Not tottering, with their shadows wildly cast
Southward, along the sward. High in the midst
Stones fashion'd as an altar were upraised,
And on the altar was a coffin'd space
Wherein a man full-grown might lie his length
And with his pleading eyes upon the stars
Make ready for the sacrificial knife.
‘Look!’ Ydun said; and Balder look'd; and saw,
Crouching upon the altar, one that loom'd
Like to a living shape. And Ydun said,
‘That is thy Father's altar, and thereon
Blood-offering brighter than the life of lambs
Is scatter'd by his priests; at sunset here
A virgin died, and all the desert air
Is sweeter for her breath; and those black birds
That hover o'er the altar moaning low
Are hungry to come near her and to feed,—
But he who lieth yonder hath not fed
His own immortal hunger. There he broods
Still as a star above her, with one hand
Placed on her lifeless breast!’
Crouching upon the altar, one that loom'd
Like to a living shape. And Ydun said,
‘That is thy Father's altar, and thereon
Blood-offering brighter than the life of lambs
Is scatter'd by his priests; at sunset here
A virgin died, and all the desert air
Is sweeter for her breath; and those black birds
That hover o'er the altar moaning low
Are hungry to come near her and to feed,—
But he who lieth yonder hath not fed
His own immortal hunger. There he broods
Still as a star above her, with one hand
Placed on her lifeless breast!’
Then Balder felt
His godhead shrink within him like a flame
A cold wind bloweth, and for pity's sake
His eyes divine were dim; but, creeping close,
Within the shadow of a shatter'd column,
He gazed and gazed. And lo, the sight he saw
Was full of sorrow only eyes divine
Could see and bear. Upon the altar-stone
Lay stretchëd naked and most marble white
That gentle virgin, with the slayer's mark
Across her throat, her red mouth open wide,
And two great sightless orbs upraised to heaven,
And he who clung unto her, like a hawk
With wings outstretch'd, and dim dilated eyes
Feeding upon the sorrow of her face,
Was he whom Balder o'er the world had sought
And had not found. Ne'er yet, by sea or shore,
Not ev'n within the silence of the woods
When his sad eyes beheld him first of old,
Had Balder to that spirit terrible
E'er crept so nigh or seen its shape so well.
Shadow it seem'd, and yet corporeal,
But thro' the filmy substance of its frame
The blood-red light of midnight penetrated;
And dreadfully with dreadful loveliness
The features changed their shining lineaments,
Now lamb-like, wolf-like now, now like a maid's
Scarce blossom'd, now deep-wrinkled like a man's,
Now beautiful and awful like a god's,—
But never true to each similitude
Longer than one quick heart-beat.
His godhead shrink within him like a flame
A cold wind bloweth, and for pity's sake
His eyes divine were dim; but, creeping close,
Within the shadow of a shatter'd column,
He gazed and gazed. And lo, the sight he saw
Was full of sorrow only eyes divine
Could see and bear. Upon the altar-stone
Lay stretchëd naked and most marble white
That gentle virgin, with the slayer's mark
Across her throat, her red mouth open wide,
And two great sightless orbs upraised to heaven,
And he who clung unto her, like a hawk
With wings outstretch'd, and dim dilated eyes
Feeding upon the sorrow of her face,
Was he whom Balder o'er the world had sought
And had not found. Ne'er yet, by sea or shore,
Not ev'n within the silence of the woods
When his sad eyes beheld him first of old,
Had Balder to that spirit terrible
E'er crept so nigh or seen its shape so well.
Shadow it seem'd, and yet corporeal,
But thro' the filmy substance of its frame
The blood-red light of midnight penetrated;
And dreadfully with dreadful loveliness
The features changed their shining lineaments,
Now lamb-like, wolf-like now, now like a maid's
Scarce blossom'd, now deep-wrinkled like a man's,
Now beautiful and awful like a god's,—
But never true to each similitude
Longer than one quick heart-beat.
Thus it hung,
So fascinated by the form it watch'd,
It saw not, heard not, stirr'd not, though the birds
Shriek'd wildly overhead. Ev'n as one cast
Into a trance mesmeric, it prolong'd
The famine of its gaze until its face
Was fixëd as a star. Then Ydun crept
Close unto Balder, whispering, ‘Remember
That rune I read thee! touch him in his trance,
And name him by his mystic human name,
And as I live his lips shall answer thee
In human speech!’ So speaking, Ydun smiled
And vanish'd, leaving Balder all alone
To look and watch and wait. . . .
So fascinated by the form it watch'd,
It saw not, heard not, stirr'd not, though the birds
Shriek'd wildly overhead. Ev'n as one cast
Into a trance mesmeric, it prolong'd
The famine of its gaze until its face
Was fixëd as a star. Then Ydun crept
Close unto Balder, whispering, ‘Remember
That rune I read thee! touch him in his trance,
And name him by his mystic human name,
And as I live his lips shall answer thee
In human speech!’ So speaking, Ydun smiled
And vanish'd, leaving Balder all alone
To look and watch and wait. . . .
. . . Then on his soul,
Beholding that great trance of Death, there came
Most fatal fascination. For a space
He could not stir. Upon the sacred grove
Lay darkness; only on the altar stone
The naked victim glimmer'd beautiful,
And terrible above her linger'd Death;—
When suddenly beyond the snow-white peak
Rose round and luminous and yellow as gold
The full-orb'd moon; by slow degrees its beams
Stole down the shrouded mountains, till they fell
Prone on the altar, turning all things there
To brightness:—so that Death himself was changed
From purple into silvern;—that dead maid
To silvern too from marble;—the great grove,
With all the columns looming black therein,
New-lit with lunar dawn. Then as the light
Touch'd and illumed him, for a moment Death
Stirr'd, ev'n as one that stirreth from a sleep,
And trembled, looking upward; and behold!
His face grew beautiful thro' golden hair,
His eyes dim heavenly blue, and all his looks
Strange and divinely young! . . .
Beholding that great trance of Death, there came
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He could not stir. Upon the sacred grove
Lay darkness; only on the altar stone
The naked victim glimmer'd beautiful,
And terrible above her linger'd Death;—
When suddenly beyond the snow-white peak
Rose round and luminous and yellow as gold
The full-orb'd moon; by slow degrees its beams
Stole down the shrouded mountains, till they fell
Prone on the altar, turning all things there
To brightness:—so that Death himself was changed
From purple into silvern;—that dead maid
To silvern too from marble;—the great grove,
With all the columns looming black therein,
New-lit with lunar dawn. Then as the light
Touch'd and illumed him, for a moment Death
Stirr'd, ev'n as one that stirreth from a sleep,
And trembled, looking upward; and behold!
His face grew beautiful thro' golden hair,
His eyes dim heavenly blue, and all his looks
Strange and divinely young! . . .
. . . Then, ere that trance
Was wholly shaken from him, Balder rose,
And crept unto the altar with no sound;
And ere the shape could stir or utter cry,
He clutch'd him with one quick and eager hand;
And tho' his hand was frozen as it touch'd,
Ere Death could fly he gazed into his eyes
And named him by his mystic human name.
. . . And Death gazed back with looks so terrible,
They would have wither'd any living man;
But Balder only smiled and wove his rune,—
And in a little space the shape was charm'd,
Looking and listening in a nameless fear.
Was wholly shaken from him, Balder rose,
And crept unto the altar with no sound;
And ere the shape could stir or utter cry,
He clutch'd him with one quick and eager hand;
And tho' his hand was frozen as it touch'd,
Ere Death could fly he gazed into his eyes
And named him by his mystic human name.
. . . And Death gazed back with looks so terrible,
They would have wither'd any living man;
But Balder only smiled and wove his rune,—
And in a little space the shape was charm'd,
Looking and listening in a nameless fear.
II. Balder and Death.
‘O Death, pale Death, thro’ many a lonely land
My feet have follow'd thee;
Sisters and brothers stricken by thy hand
Oft have I stoop'd to see:
‘To kiss the little children on their biers
So innocent and sweet,
To bless the old men wearied out with years
Wrapt in thy winding-sheet.
My feet have follow'd thee;
Sisters and brothers stricken by thy hand
Oft have I stoop'd to see:
‘To kiss the little children on their biers
So innocent and sweet,
To bless the old men wearied out with years
Wrapt in thy winding-sheet.
‘To look into thine eyes, to drink thy breath,
I have cried with a weary cry:
Prayers I have said to the great gods, O Death,
While thou hast darken'd by.
I have cried with a weary cry:
Prayers I have said to the great gods, O Death,
While thou hast darken'd by.
‘Thy mark is on the flower and on the tree,
And on the beast and the bird,
Thy shade is on the mountains, even the sea
By thy sad foot is stirred.
And on the beast and the bird,
Thy shade is on the mountains, even the sea
By thy sad foot is stirred.
‘Slayer thou art of all my soul deems fair,
Thou saddenest the sun,—
Of all things on the earth and in the air,
O Death, thou sparest none.
Thou saddenest the sun,—
Of all things on the earth and in the air,
O Death, thou sparest none.
‘And therefore have I sought with prayers and sighs
To speak with thee a space!’
Bright Balder in the hollow rayless eyes
Look'd with a fearless face.
To speak with thee a space!’
Bright Balder in the hollow rayless eyes
Look'd with a fearless face.
The phantom darken'd 'neath the clay cold moon
And seem'd to shrink in woe,
But Balder named his name and wove the rune,
And would not let him go.
And seem'd to shrink in woe,
But Balder named his name and wove the rune,
And would not let him go.
‘O Death! pale Death! thou hast a lovelier name,
Who gave that name to thee?
By the high gods, by that from which they came,
Thy mouth must answer me!’
Who gave that name to thee?
By the high gods, by that from which they came,
Thy mouth must answer me!’
Death answer'd not, but mystically bright,
His shadowy features grew,
And on his brow the chilly lamps of night
Sprinkled their glistening dew,
His shadowy features grew,
And on his brow the chilly lamps of night
Sprinkled their glistening dew,
And Balder wonder'd, for those lights above
Seem'd shining down on him,
And death's pale face grew as the face of Love,
Yet more divinely dim.
Seem'd shining down on him,
And death's pale face grew as the face of Love,
Yet more divinely dim.
‘O Death, pale Death!
Who gave thee that sweet name,
Yet sent thee down to slay poor things of breath,
And turn men's hearts to flame?
Who gave thee that sweet name,
Yet sent thee down to slay poor things of breath,
And turn men's hearts to flame?
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‘Who gave thee life and cast thy lot below
With those sad slaying eyes?’
Death pointed with a hand as white as snow
Up to the moonlit skies.
With those sad slaying eyes?’
Death pointed with a hand as white as snow
Up to the moonlit skies.
‘Who sent thee here where men and beasts have birth?’
Death trembled and was still.
‘What drew thee down on my beloved Earth,
To wither up and kill?’
Death trembled and was still.
‘What drew thee down on my beloved Earth,
To wither up and kill?’
Death answer'd not, but pointed once again
Up thro' the starry shine;
And Balder question'd with a quick new pain,
‘My kin? the gods divine?
Up thro' the starry shine;
And Balder question'd with a quick new pain,
‘My kin? the gods divine?
Death answer'd not, but gazed on Balder now
With strange and questioning gleam—
His eyes were soft in sorrow and his brow
Was wonderful with dream.
With strange and questioning gleam—
His eyes were soft in sorrow and his brow
Was wonderful with dream.
‘Speak to me, brother, if thou art not dumb;
Speak to my soul, O Death!’
The thin lips flutter, but no answer hath come,
No sigh, no sound, no breath.
Speak to my soul, O Death!’
The thin lips flutter, but no answer hath come,
No sigh, no sound, no breath.
Yet on the brow of Death there lives a light
Like starlight shed on snow,
The fatal face grows beautiful and bright
With some celestial woe.
Like starlight shed on snow,
The fatal face grows beautiful and bright
With some celestial woe.
And round the shadowy cheeks there softly swim
Thin threads of silken hair,
And Balder sees the form world-worn and dim
Hath once been young and fair.
Thin threads of silken hair,
And Balder sees the form world-worn and dim
Hath once been young and fair.
And as they sit together in the night,
Hand in hand, mingling breath,
The fingers white of the cold starry light
Smooth the sad hair of Death.
Hand in hand, mingling breath,
The fingers white of the cold starry light
Smooth the sad hair of Death.
III. ‘O Death, pale Death.’
‘O Death! pale Death!
Thy hair is golden, not gray—
In the dark mirrors of thine eyes, O Death,
Lie glimmering dreams of day.
Thy hair is golden, not gray—
In the dark mirrors of thine eyes, O Death,
Lie glimmering dreams of day.
‘O gentle Death!
Thy hand is warm, not chill,—
Thy touch is soft and living, and thy breath
Sweet, with no power to kill.
Thy hand is warm, not chill,—
Thy touch is soft and living, and thy breath
Sweet, with no power to kill.
‘I love thee, Death, for that great heavenly brow
Still dark from love's eclipse—
And lo! a hundredfold I hunger now
To hear thy living lips.
Still dark from love's eclipse—
And lo! a hundredfold I hunger now
To hear thy living lips.
‘O gentle Death!
Speak, that mine ears may hear.’
Then like a fountain rose the voice of Death,
Low, sweet, and clear!
Speak, that mine ears may hear.’
Then like a fountain rose the voice of Death,
Low, sweet, and clear!
IV. Death sings.
‘I know not whence my feet have come,
Nor whither they must go—
Lonely I wander, dark and dumb,
In summer and in snow.
Nor whither they must go—
Lonely I wander, dark and dumb,
In summer and in snow.
‘For on mine eyes there falls a gleam,
That keeps them dim and blind,
Of strange eternities of dream
Before me and behind;
That keeps them dim and blind,
Of strange eternities of dream
Before me and behind;
And ever, ever as I pace
Along my lonely track,
The light retires before my face,
Advancing at my back;
Along my lonely track,
The light retires before my face,
Advancing at my back;
‘But ever, ever if I turn
And would my steps retrace,
Close to my back that light doth burn,
But flies before my face.
And would my steps retrace,
Close to my back that light doth burn,
But flies before my face.
‘I close mine eyes, I fain would sleep,
I rest with folded wing,
Or on my weary way I creep
Like any harmless thing.
I rest with folded wing,
Or on my weary way I creep
Like any harmless thing.
‘Yet day by day, from land to land,
From gentle fold to fold,
I pass, and lo, my cruel hand
Leaves all things calm and cold.
From gentle fold to fold,
I pass, and lo, my cruel hand
Leaves all things calm and cold.
‘Man marketh with his bitterest moan
My shadow sad and dim;
Of all things hateful, I alone
Am hatefullest to him!
My shadow sad and dim;
Of all things hateful, I alone
Am hatefullest to him!
‘Ay me, a brand is on my brow,
A fire is in my breast,—
Ever my bitter breath doth bow
Those flowers I love the best.
A fire is in my breast,—
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Those flowers I love the best.
‘I crouch beside the cradled child,
I look into its eyes,
I love to watch its slumber mild
As quietly it lies.
I look into its eyes,
I love to watch its slumber mild
As quietly it lies.
‘I dare not touch it with my hand,
Or creep too close to see,
Yet for a little space I stand
And mark it, silently,
Or creep too close to see,
Yet for a little space I stand
And mark it, silently,
‘Ah, little dream pale human things,
At rest beneath the skies,
How, as they sleep, with gentle wings
I shade their cheeks and eyes!
At rest beneath the skies,
How, as they sleep, with gentle wings
I shade their cheeks and eyes!
‘The maiden with her merry laugh,
The babe with its faint cry,
The old man leaning on his staff,
Are mine, and these must die.
The babe with its faint cry,
The old man leaning on his staff,
Are mine, and these must die.
‘I touch them softly with my hand,
They turn as still as stone,
Then looking in their eyes I stand
Until their light hath flown.
They turn as still as stone,
Then looking in their eyes I stand
Until their light hath flown.
‘I set faint gleams around their lips,
I smooth their brows and hair,
I place within their clay-cold grips
The lilies of despair.
I smooth their brows and hair,
I place within their clay-cold grips
The lilies of despair.
‘And verily when they bear them forth
I follow with the rest;
But when their bones are in the earth
My gentle task is best.
I follow with the rest;
But when their bones are in the earth
My gentle task is best.
‘For there I sit with head bent low
For many a dreamy day,
And watch the grass and flowers grow
Out of the changing clay.
For many a dreamy day,
And watch the grass and flowers grow
Out of the changing clay.
‘O think of this and blame not me,
Thou with the eyes divine—
A Shadow creeps from sea to sea,
Stranger than thine or mine.
Thou with the eyes divine—
A Shadow creeps from sea to sea,
Stranger than thine or mine.
‘Who made the white bear and the seal?
The eagle and the lamb?
As these am I—I live and feel—
One made me, and I am.’
The eagle and the lamb?
As these am I—I live and feel—
One made me, and I am.’
V.
Then Balder lifted up his voice and cried,
Placing his fingers on Death's heavenly hair,
‘Lo, I absolve thee!’ and the Spirit crouch'd
In silence, looking up with wondering gaze
At that immortal brightness blessing him
With holy imposition of white hands.
For beautiful beyond all dream, and bright
Beyond all splendour of the summer Earth,
Divine, with aureole around his head,
God-like, yet fairer far than any god,
Stood Balder, like a thing that could not die!
Upon his face the countless eyes of heaven
Gazed, with their own exceeding lustre dim;
And moonlight hung around him like a veil
Through which his glory trembled paramount;
And dim sheen showering from a thousand worlds,
Mingling with moisture of the nether-air,
Touch'd his soft body with baptismal dews.
Placing his fingers on Death's heavenly hair,
‘Lo, I absolve thee!’ and the Spirit crouch'd
In silence, looking up with wondering gaze
At that immortal brightness blessing him
With holy imposition of white hands.
For beautiful beyond all dream, and bright
Beyond all splendour of the summer Earth,
Divine, with aureole around his head,
God-like, yet fairer far than any god,
Stood Balder, like a thing that could not die!
Upon his face the countless eyes of heaven
Gazed, with their own exceeding lustre dim;
And moonlight hung around him like a veil
Through which his glory trembled paramount;
And dim sheen showering from a thousand worlds,
Mingling with moisture of the nether-air,
Touch'd his soft body with baptismal dews.
Then far away in the remotest north,
Cloud-like and dark and scarce distinguishable,
The clustering faces of the gods look'd down.
And Balder cried, ‘Lo, I have ranged the Earth,
And found it good; yea, hills and vales and streams,
Forests and seas, all good and beautiful;
And I have gazed in eyes of birds and beasts,
And in the gentle orbs of mortal men,
And seen in all the light of that dim dream
Which grew within my soul when I was born.
Only this thing is bitter, O ye gods,
Most dark and bitter: that eternal Death
Sits by his sad and silent sea of graves,
Singing a song that slays the hopes of men.
Yet lo, I gaze into the eyes of Death,
And they are troubled with that self-same dream.
Cloud-like and dark and scarce distinguishable,
The clustering faces of the gods look'd down.
And Balder cried, ‘Lo, I have ranged the Earth,
And found it good; yea, hills and vales and streams,
Forests and seas, all good and beautiful;
And I have gazed in eyes of birds and beasts,
And in the gentle orbs of mortal men,
And seen in all the light of that dim dream
Which grew within my soul when I was born.
Only this thing is bitter, O ye gods,
Most dark and bitter: that eternal Death
Sits by his sad and silent sea of graves,
Singing a song that slays the hopes of men.
Yet lo, I gaze into the eyes of Death,
And they are troubled with that self-same dream.
‘O gods, on you I cry not, but I cry
On him, the Father, who has fashion'd Death
To be the sorrow of created things,
And set this ceaseless hunger in his heart
To wither up and kill. Oh, I have wept
Till all my heart is weary, and no voice
Makes answer. By thy servant Death, O God,
By him whom I have sought and found in pain,
Listen!—Uplift this shadow from the Earth,
And gladly will I die as sacrifice,
And all the gentle things I love shall live.
On him, the Father, who has fashion'd Death
To be the sorrow of created things,
And set this ceaseless hunger in his heart
To wither up and kill. Oh, I have wept
Till all my heart is weary, and no voice
Makes answer. By thy servant Death, O God,
By him whom I have sought and found in pain,
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And gladly will I die as sacrifice,
And all the gentle things I love shall live.
Far, far away in the remotest north
A white face in the darkness of a cloud
Gleam'd. Thither, crouching low at Balder's feet,
Death pointed with his skeleton finger fix'd,
Silent. Then, even as a snow-white lamb
That on the altar cometh with no fear
But looks around with eager innocent eyes,
God Balder on the stone of sacrifice
Leapt, reaching arms up heavenward!
A white face in the darkness of a cloud
Gleam'd. Thither, crouching low at Balder's feet,
Death pointed with his skeleton finger fix'd,
Silent. Then, even as a snow-white lamb
That on the altar cometh with no fear
But looks around with eager innocent eyes,
God Balder on the stone of sacrifice
Leapt, reaching arms up heavenward!
. . . And he pray'd.
VI. The Last Prayer.
‘Father in heaven, my dream is over,
Father in heaven, my day is dark,—
I sat in the sun and I sang like a lover
Who sings sweet songs for a maid to mark;
And the light was golden upon my hair,
And the heavens were blue and the Earth was fair,
And I knew no touch of a human care,
And I bless'd thy name, my Father!
I sang, and the clarion winds blew clear,
And the lilies rose like lamps on the mere,
And all the night in the balmy light
I lifted up my hands snow-white,
And the stars began to gather!
Father in heaven, my day is dark,—
I sat in the sun and I sang like a lover
Who sings sweet songs for a maid to mark;
And the light was golden upon my hair,
And the heavens were blue and the Earth was fair,
And I knew no touch of a human care,
And I bless'd thy name, my Father!
I sang, and the clarion winds blew clear,
And the lilies rose like lamps on the mere,
And all the night in the balmy light
I lifted up my hands snow-white,
And the stars began to gather!
‘Father, Father, which art in heaven,
Lord of men and master of Earth.
The rune was woven of colours seven,
And out of thy being I had birth;
As a snowdrop wakes on the naked ground,
And opens its eye without a sound
While the winds are murmuring around,
I woke on the green Earth's bosom;
And I heard a cry, as the storks went by
Sailing northward under the sky,
And a cry from the mountains answer'd loud,
And the cataract leapt like a corpse from its shroud,
And the sward began to blossom.
Lord of men and master of Earth.
The rune was woven of colours seven,
And out of thy being I had birth;
As a snowdrop wakes on the naked ground,
And opens its eye without a sound
While the winds are murmuring around,
I woke on the green Earth's bosom;
And I heard a cry, as the storks went by
Sailing northward under the sky,
And a cry from the mountains answer'd loud,
And the cataract leapt like a corpse from its shroud,
And the sward began to blossom.
‘White clouds passed over with low sweet thunder,
Shaking downward the silvern dew,
The soft sods trembled and fell asunder,
And the emcrald flame of the grass gleam'd thro',
And the fire of the young boughs overhead
Ran green and amber, golden and red,
And the flashing lamps of the leaves were fed
At the torch of the flaming sunshine:
Beautiful, wrapt in a blissful dream,
Lay mere and mountain, meadow and stream;
And beautiful, when the light was low,
Creeping white through the after-glow,
The starshine and the moonshine!
Shaking downward the silvern dew,
The soft sods trembled and fell asunder,
And the emcrald flame of the grass gleam'd thro',
And the fire of the young boughs overhead
Ran green and amber, golden and red,
And the flashing lamps of the leaves were fed
At the torch of the flaming sunshine:
Beautiful, wrapt in a blissful dream,
Lay mere and mountain, meadow and stream;
And beautiful, when the light was low,
Creeping white through the after-glow,
The starshine and the moonshine!
‘Father, Father, hearken unto me,
Then work thy will on the world and me—
I walk'd the world, and the glad world knew me,
And my feet were kissed by thy slave the Sea.
And ever with every happy hour,
My love grew deeper for tree and flower,
For the beast in the brake, for the bird in the bower,
And the deer on the white high places.
But ere my golden dream was done,
I saw thy Shadow across the sun,
I saw thy Shadow that all men see,
On beast and bird, on flower and tree,
And the flower-sweet human faces!
Then work thy will on the world and me—
I walk'd the world, and the glad world knew me,
And my feet were kissed by thy slave the Sea.
And ever with every happy hour,
My love grew deeper for tree and flower,
For the beast in the brake, for the bird in the bower,
And the deer on the white high places.
But ere my golden dream was done,
I saw thy Shadow across the sun,
I saw thy Shadow that all men see,
On beast and bird, on flower and tree,
And the flower-sweet human faces!
‘The flower-sweet faces of mortal races
Blossoming sadly under the sky!
I saw my dream on those fading faces,
I heard my voice in their failing cry.
Out of the soil and into the sun
Their souls were stirring as mine had done,
Their dooms were written, their threads were spun,
By the hands of the immortals;
They rose in a dream and they lookt around,
They saw their shadows upon the ground,
And wherever they went beneath the blue
The darker Shadow thy Spirit threw
From the great sun's shining portals.
Blossoming sadly under the sky!
I saw my dream on those fading faces,
I heard my voice in their failing cry.
Out of the soil and into the sun
Their souls were stirring as mine had done,
Their dooms were written, their threads were spun,
By the hands of the immortals;
They rose in a dream and they lookt around,
They saw their shadows upon the ground,
And wherever they went beneath the blue
The darker Shadow thy Spirit threw
From the great sun's shining portals.
‘Thou hadst taken clay and hadst made it human,
Blown in its nostrils and lent it breath,
Thou hadst kindled the beauty of man and woman,
To hunt them down with thy bloodhound, Death.
They did not crave to be born or be,
Yet thou gavest them eyes that their souls might see,
And thou hatest them as thou hatest me
And the Earth thy godhead bearing.
They shrink and tremble before thy hand,
They ask and they do not understand,
They bid thee pity who pitiest none,
And they name thy name, as I, thy Son,
Now name it, still despairing.
Blown in its nostrils and lent it breath,
Thou hadst kindled the beauty of man and woman,
To hunt them down with thy bloodhound, Death.
They did not crave to be born or be,
Yet thou gavest them eyes that their souls might see,
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And the Earth thy godhead bearing.
They shrink and tremble before thy hand,
They ask and they do not understand,
They bid thee pity who pitiest none,
And they name thy name, as I, thy Son,
Now name it, still despairing.
‘Father, Father, which art in heaven,
Why hast thou fashion'd my brethren so?
Form'd of fire, with the dust for leaven,
As thou hast made them, they come and go.
Yet ever thy hand is on their hair
To seize and to slay them unaware,
And ever their faces are pale with prayer
As round thy fanes they gather. . . .
Thou askest blood and they give thee life
With sweep of the sacrificial knife;
Thou seekest praise and they give thee pain,
And their altars smoke with the crimson rain
Thou lovest, O my Father!
Why hast thou fashion'd my brethren so?
Form'd of fire, with the dust for leaven,
As thou hast made them, they come and go.
Yet ever thy hand is on their hair
To seize and to slay them unaware,
And ever their faces are pale with prayer
As round thy fanes they gather. . . .
Thou askest blood and they give thee life
With sweep of the sacrificial knife;
Thou seekest praise and they give thee pain,
And their altars smoke with the crimson rain
Thou lovest, O my Father!
‘Father, Father, 'tis sad to falter
Out of the light and into the dark,
Like a wreath of smoke from a burning altar
To fade and vanish where none may mark.
But O my Father, 'tis blest to be
A part of the joy of the land and sea,
To upleap like a lamb, to be glad and free
As the stream of a running river.
Could'st thou not spare them a longer space
With sweeter meed of a surer grace?
Could'st thou not love the light that lies
On happy fields and in human eyes,
And let it shine for ever?
Out of the light and into the dark,
Like a wreath of smoke from a burning altar
To fade and vanish where none may mark.
But O my Father, 'tis blest to be
A part of the joy of the land and sea,
To upleap like a lamb, to be glad and free
As the stream of a running river.
Could'st thou not spare them a longer space
With sweeter meed of a surer grace?
Could'st thou not love the light that lies
On happy fields and in human eyes,
And let it shine for ever?
‘I hear thy voice from the void of heaven,
It thunders back and it answers “Nay”—
The rune was woven of colours seven
For me, thy Son, and for things of clay.
Then mark me now as I rise and swear,
By the beasts in the brake, by the birds in the air,
By Earth, by all those forces fair
Which mingled in my making;
By men and women who stand supreme
Proud and pale with mine own soul's dream,
I will drink the cup their lips partake!
I will share their lot, while their sad hearts break
As mine, thy Son's, is breaking!
It thunders back and it answers “Nay”—
The rune was woven of colours seven
For me, thy Son, and for things of clay.
Then mark me now as I rise and swear,
By the beasts in the brake, by the birds in the air,
By Earth, by all those forces fair
Which mingled in my making;
By men and women who stand supreme
Proud and pale with mine own soul's dream,
I will drink the cup their lips partake!
I will share their lot, while their sad hearts break
As mine, thy Son's, is breaking!
‘Father in heaven, my heart is human,
I cast a shade like a human thing,
Grant me the doom of man and woman;
From the Earth I came, to the Earth I cling.
Behold who standeth at my side!
Even Death, thy servant heavenly eyed—
I will die, as the children of men have died,
To the sound of his sad singing.
Behold, I look in the face of Death,
I look in his eyes and I drink his breath;
The chill light brightens upon his brow,
He creepeth close and he smileth now,
His cold arms round me flinging.
I cast a shade like a human thing,
Grant me the doom of man and woman;
From the Earth I came, to the Earth I cling.
Behold who standeth at my side!
Even Death, thy servant heavenly eyed—
I will die, as the children of men have died,
To the sound of his sad singing.
Behold, I look in the face of Death,
I look in his eyes and I drink his breath;
The chill light brightens upon his brow,
He creepeth close and he smileth now,
His cold arms round me flinging.
‘Father, Father, bend down and hearken,
And place thy hand upon my hair;
Ere yet I wither, ere yet I darken,
Hear me murmur a last low prayer.
As the blood of a sacrifice is shed,
Let me die in my brethren's stead—
Let me die; but when I am dead,
Call back thy Death to heaven!
Ay me, my Father, if this may be,
I will go with a prayer for him and thee,
I will pass away without a cry,
Blessing and praising thee under the sky,
Forgiving and forgiven.
And place thy hand upon my hair;
Ere yet I wither, ere yet I darken,
Hear me murmur a last low prayer.
As the blood of a sacrifice is shed,
Let me die in my brethren's stead—
Let me die; but when I am dead,
Call back thy Death to heaven!
Ay me, my Father, if this may be,
I will go with a prayer for him and thee,
I will pass away without a cry,
Blessing and praising thee under the sky,
Forgiving and forgiven.
‘. . . . Father, Father, my dream is over—
He folds me close, and I cannot see;
Yet I shall sleep like a quiet lover
If my boon is granted and this may be.
O sweet it is if I may rest
Asleep on my foster-mother's breast,
If over my grave the flowers blow best
And happy mortals gather.
Yet Father, tho' darkness shrouds my face,
Remember me for a little space,
Remember, remember, and forgive
Thy Son who dies that men may live. . . .
Accept me, O my Father!’
He folds me close, and I cannot see;
Yet I shall sleep like a quiet lover
If my boon is granted and this may be.
O sweet it is if I may rest
Asleep on my foster-mother's breast,
If over my grave the flowers blow best
And happy mortals gather.
Yet Father, tho' darkness shrouds my face,
Remember me for a little space,
Remember, remember, and forgive
Thy Son who dies that men may live. . . .
Accept me, O my Father!’
VII. The First Snowflake—Falling of the Snow.
He ceased; no voice replied; but round his frame
Cold arms were woven, and his golden head
Droop'd like a lily on the breast of Death. . . .
Then suddenly a darkness like a veil
Was drawn across the silent void of Heaven,
Starlight and moonlight faded mystically,
And save for Balder's face, that as a star
Still flash'd in pallor on the face of Death,
There was no light at all. . . .
Cold arms were woven, and his golden head
Droop'd like a lily on the breast of Death. . . .
Then suddenly a darkness like a veil
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Starlight and moonlight faded mystically,
And save for Balder's face, that as a star
Still flash'd in pallor on the face of Death,
There was no light at all. . . .
Then Balder cried,
‘Lo, he hath answer'd; I am thine, O Death;
Now let me look into thy loving eyes,
And ere I rest, sing low to me again.’
Shivering he spake, and sank upon the ground;
But Death stoop'd down above him as he lay,
And took the shining head into his lap,
And smooth'd with fingers cold the silken hair,
And murmur'd Balder's name with singing lips
Soft as the whisper of a wind in June.
‘O Death, white Death, all is so cold and dark,
I cannot see the shining of thy face!’
Then touching Balder's lips, Death answer'd low,
‘Thy day is ended—thou wilt see no more—
Sleep, sleep!’ . . .
‘Lo, he hath answer'd; I am thine, O Death;
Now let me look into thy loving eyes,
And ere I rest, sing low to me again.’
Shivering he spake, and sank upon the ground;
But Death stoop'd down above him as he lay,
And took the shining head into his lap,
And smooth'd with fingers cold the silken hair,
And murmur'd Balder's name with singing lips
Soft as the whisper of a wind in June.
‘O Death, white Death, all is so cold and dark,
I cannot see the shining of thy face!’
Then touching Balder's lips, Death answer'd low,
‘Thy day is ended—thou wilt see no more—
Sleep, sleep!’ . . .
. . . But what is this that wavers slowly
Out of that purple blackness overhead?
Is it a blossom from the silvern boughs
O'ershadowing the azure pools of heaven?
Or feather from the plume of some sweet star
That ever moveth magically on
From mansion unto mansion of the sky?
Soft as a bloom from the white hawthorn spray
It wavers earthward thro' the starless dark,
Unseen, unfelt, until it gains the light
Which Balder breathes around him as he lies.
There, as a white moth hovers in the moon,
It floats and gleams, then sinking softly down,
Falls as a seal on Balder's shining brow
And melts away.
Out of that purple blackness overhead?
Is it a blossom from the silvern boughs
O'ershadowing the azure pools of heaven?
Or feather from the plume of some sweet star
That ever moveth magically on
From mansion unto mansion of the sky?
Soft as a bloom from the white hawthorn spray
It wavers earthward thro' the starless dark,
Unseen, unfelt, until it gains the light
Which Balder breathes around him as he lies.
There, as a white moth hovers in the moon,
It floats and gleams, then sinking softly down,
Falls as a seal on Balder's shining brow
And melts away.
‘. . . O Death, upon mine eyes,
And on my brow, I feel a touch like dew,
Like cold dew shaken from a morning cloud.
Look heavenward—seest thou aught of the great gods,
Or God my Father?’ But the form replied,
‘On heaven and in the air 'tis night, deep night;
No shape is seen, no star, nor any light.
Sleep, Balder, sleep!’
And on my brow, I feel a touch like dew,
Like cold dew shaken from a morning cloud.
Look heavenward—seest thou aught of the great gods,
Or God my Father?’ But the form replied,
‘On heaven and in the air 'tis night, deep night;
No shape is seen, no star, nor any light.
Sleep, Balder, sleep!’
Then bending low he kissed
The lips of Balder, yea with kisses calm
He drew sweet Balder's breath, and lo! he shone
Brighter and brighter with the life he drank.
But Balder darken'd ever and grew cold.
‘O Death, I feel thee smiling in a dream
Serene and still and very beautiful—
But ah, thy lips are chill!’ and Death moan'd low,
Winding his thin arms tight round Balder's frame,
‘Sleep, sleep!’
The lips of Balder, yea with kisses calm
He drew sweet Balder's breath, and lo! he shone
Brighter and brighter with the life he drank.
But Balder darken'd ever and grew cold.
‘O Death, I feel thee smiling in a dream
Serene and still and very beautiful—
But ah, thy lips are chill!’ and Death moan'd low,
Winding his thin arms tight round Balder's frame,
‘Sleep, sleep!’
. . . O what are these that waver slowly
Out of the purple blackness overhead?
Soft as that first white blossom blown from heaven,
Faltering downward thro' the rayless dark,
They come, they gather, falling flake on flake
With silvern lapse and silent interchange,
Hovering in soft descent as if they lived.
Upon the drooping head of Death they fall
Like lightly shaken leaves, and looking up
He sees the black air troubled into life
Of multitudinous waifs that wander down.
There is no sound—only the solemn hush
Of mystic motions and invisible wings;
There is no lamp, no star; but lo! the air
Is glimmering dimly with the faint wan light
Shed from the blossoms as they melt and fade.
Out of the purple blackness overhead?
Soft as that first white blossom blown from heaven,
Faltering downward thro' the rayless dark,
They come, they gather, falling flake on flake
With silvern lapse and silent interchange,
Hovering in soft descent as if they lived.
Upon the drooping head of Death they fall
Like lightly shaken leaves, and looking up
He sees the black air troubled into life
Of multitudinous waifs that wander down.
There is no sound—only the solemn hush
Of mystic motions and invisible wings;
There is no lamp, no star; but lo! the air
Is glimmering dimly with the faint wan light
Shed from the blossoms as they melt and fade.
‘Under green boughs, under green boughs, O Death,
Thou hast borne me, and I see not, but I hear
The tremor of the soft trees overhead,
A sound like fountains flowing, and a touch
Like cool leaves shaken on mine eyes and hair!’
Thou hast borne me, and I see not, but I hear
The tremor of the soft trees overhead,
A sound like fountains flowing, and a touch
Like cool leaves shaken on mine eyes and hair!’
And Balder stirred his gentle head and smiled—
Then drew one last long breath, and sank to sleep.
Then drew one last long breath, and sank to sleep.
'Tis over now—the gods may gaze in peace—
Balder is dead!
Balder is dead!
Ay me, the light hath passed
From that once glorious head: still as a stone
It lies, not shining, in the lap of Death;
The hair is white, the eyes are glazed and dim,
There is no red upon the loving lips,
And in its cage the singing heart lies cold.
Ah, Death, pale Death, thy kisses come in vain.
Close thou his lids, and by his side stretch down
The cold white marble arms, and at his head
Watch like a mourner, for a little space.
From that once glorious head: still as a stone
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The hair is white, the eyes are glazed and dim,
There is no red upon the loving lips,
And in its cage the singing heart lies cold.
Ah, Death, pale Death, thy kisses come in vain.
Close thou his lids, and by his side stretch down
The cold white marble arms, and at his head
Watch like a mourner, for a little space.
Death sits and gazes on; but lo, his looks
Are pale as Balder's. . . . All the light he wore
Hath faded, and his orbs are rayless now.
Lifeless he looms in vigil while his eyes
Turn upward and his thin cold hand still lies
Ev'n as a frozen stone on Balder's heart.
Thicker and thicker from the folds of heaven
The floating blooms are shaken; lo, the waste
Is with a glittering whiteness carpeted,—
While still o'erhead in ever-gathering clouds,
Drifting from out the vapours of the dark,
The white flakes fall.
Are pale as Balder's. . . . All the light he wore
Hath faded, and his orbs are rayless now.
Lifeless he looms in vigil while his eyes
Turn upward and his thin cold hand still lies
Ev'n as a frozen stone on Balder's heart.
Thicker and thicker from the folds of heaven
The floating blooms are shaken; lo, the waste
Is with a glittering whiteness carpeted,—
While still o'erhead in ever-gathering clouds,
Drifting from out the vapours of the dark,
The white flakes fall.
O wonder of the snow!
The world's round ball is wrapt in crystal now,
And out of heaven there comes a freezing breath;
And nothing stirs or lives; and in his shroud
Woven by frost's swift fingers, Balder lies,
And that fair face which made creation glad
Is fixëd as a rayless mask of ice.
The world's round ball is wrapt in crystal now,
And out of heaven there comes a freezing breath;
And nothing stirs or lives; and in his shroud
Woven by frost's swift fingers, Balder lies,
And that fair face which made creation glad
Is fixëd as a rayless mask of ice.
Crouch at his head, O Death! and hour by hour
Watch the still flakes of heaven wavering down,
Till thou, and that which lieth at thy feet,
And all the world, are clad in wondrous white!
Watch the still flakes of heaven wavering down,
Till thou, and that which lieth at thy feet,
And all the world, are clad in wondrous white!
VII. THE COMING OF THE OTHER.
I.
How long he lay in that strange trance of night
Might Balder never know;
Silently fell the waifs of stainless white,
And deeper grew the snow.
Might Balder never know;
Silently fell the waifs of stainless white,
And deeper grew the snow.
While out of heaven the falling flakes were shed,
The dark hours grew to days;
And round and round a red moon overhead
Went circling without rays.
The dark hours grew to days;
And round and round a red moon overhead
Went circling without rays.
Therewere no stars, only that cheerless thing
Treading the wintry round;
There was no light, save snow-flowers glimmering
Without a sound.
Treading the wintry round;
There was no light, save snow-flowers glimmering
Without a sound.
Darkness of doom is shed on Balder's eyes,
But whiteness shrouds the wold;
And still at Balder's head the phantom lies
Silent and calm and cold.
But whiteness shrouds the wold;
And still at Balder's head the phantom lies
Silent and calm and cold.
And chill is Balder as some naked man
Made marble by the frost:
His veins are ice; upon his bosom wan
His two thin hands are crost.
Made marble by the frost:
His veins are ice; upon his bosom wan
His two thin hands are crost.
But as within some clammy wall of stone
The death-watch keeps its chime,—
The cold heart in that crouching skeleton
Ticks out the time.
The death-watch keeps its chime,—
The cold heart in that crouching skeleton
Ticks out the time.
All round, a world of snow, and snows that fall,
Flake upon flake, so white;
An empty heaven fluttering like a pall,
Lit by that one red light.
Flake upon flake, so white;
An empty heaven fluttering like a pall,
Lit by that one red light.
All round, the solemn slumber of the snow,
No sigh, no stir, no breath,—
But in the midst, scarce audible, slow, low,
The throbbing pulse of Death. . . .
No sigh, no stir, no breath,—
But in the midst, scarce audible, slow, low,
The throbbing pulse of Death. . . .
The hours creep on, the dreary days are shed,
Measured by that slow beat;
And all the while god Balder lieth dead,
Wrapt in his winding-sheet.
Measured by that slow beat;
And all the while god Balder lieth dead,
Wrapt in his winding-sheet.
II. The Light on the Snow.
O Death, Death, press thy hand so lean and bare
Upon thy beating heart!
O Death, raise up thy head and scent the air
With nostrils cold apart!
Upon thy beating heart!
O Death, raise up thy head and scent the air
With nostrils cold apart!
Awaken from thy trance, O Death, and rise,
And hearken with thine ears! . . .
Death stirs, and like a snake with glistening eyes
His luminous head uprears. . . .
And hearken with thine ears! . . .
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His luminous head uprears. . . .
Awaken! listen! Far across the night,
And down the drifts of snow,
There stirs a lonely light,—a blood-red light
That moveth to and fro.
And down the drifts of snow,
There stirs a lonely light,—a blood-red light
That moveth to and fro.
Sniall as a drop of dew, most dim to sight,
It glimmereth afar. . . .
O Death, it cometh hither,—growing bright
And luminous as a star.
It glimmereth afar. . . .
O Death, it cometh hither,—growing bright
And luminous as a star.
O Death, pale Death,
What do thine eyes behold?
What lonely star flasheth afar
Across the wintry wold?
What do thine eyes behold?
What lonely star flasheth afar
Across the wintry wold?
The world is folded in its shroud of white;
The skies are smother'd deep;
There is no lamp at all in heaven, to light
Death Balder's sleep.
The skies are smother'd deep;
There is no lamp at all in heaven, to light
Death Balder's sleep.
There is no lamp at Balder's head, no star
Outlooking from the cloud;
White is the snow-drift woven near and far,
And white is Balder's shroud.
Outlooking from the cloud;
White is the snow-drift woven near and far,
And white is Balder's shroud.
O death, pale Death, across the lone white land
No heavenly rays are shed,—
Yet still thou-gazest, clutching Balder's hand,
At yonder gleam blood-red. . . .
No heavenly rays are shed,—
Yet still thou-gazest, clutching Balder's hand,
At yonder gleam blood-red. . . .
It crawleth as a snail along the ground,
Still far and faint to see,
O Death, it creepeth surely, with no sound,
Across the night, to thee.
Still far and faint to see,
O Death, it creepeth surely, with no sound,
Across the night, to thee.
O gentle Death,
Why dost thou crouch so low?
A star it seems, a star that travelleth
From snow to snow.
Why dost thou crouch so low?
A star it seems, a star that travelleth
From snow to snow.
Nearer it cometh, and across the night
Its beams fall crimson red,
The drifts beneath it glimmer and grow bright
Like cheeks lamp-lit and dead.
Its beams fall crimson red,
The drifts beneath it glimmer and grow bright
Like cheeks lamp-lit and dead.
O gentle Death,
Hither it cometh slow;—
A Shadow creepeth with the same, O Death
From snow to snow.
Hither it cometh slow;—
A Shadow creepeth with the same, O Death
From snow to snow.
III. The Face and the Voice.
Nearer and nearer o'er the waste of white
It steals, and doth not fade:
A light, and in the glimmer of the light
A form that casts a shade.
It steals, and doth not fade:
A light, and in the glimmer of the light
A form that casts a shade.
Nearer and nearer, till Death's eyes behold
A semblance strange and gray,
A silent shape that stoopeth and doth hold
The lamp to light its way.
A semblance strange and gray,
A silent shape that stoopeth and doth hold
The lamp to light its way.
Bent is he as a weary snow-clad bough,
Gaunt as a leafless tree,
But glamour of moonlight lies upon his brow,
Most strange to see!
Gaunt as a leafless tree,
But glamour of moonlight lies upon his brow,
Most strange to see!
And in one hand a silvern lanthorn swings
Fill'd with a crimson light,
And round his frame wind-blown and shivering clings
A robe of starry white. . . .
Fill'd with a crimson light,
And round his frame wind-blown and shivering clings
A robe of starry white. . . .
O Death, pale Death,
Well may thy cold heart beat!
The form that comes hath piercëd hands, O Death,
And bloody piercëd feet.
Well may thy cold heart beat!
The form that comes hath piercëd hands, O Death,
And bloody piercëd feet.
Slowly he crawleth under the cold skies,
His limbs trail heavy as lead,
Pale fixëd blue his eyes are, like the eyes
Of one that sleeps stone-dead.
His limbs trail heavy as lead,
Pale fixëd blue his eyes are, like the eyes
Of one that sleeps stone-dead.
Ay me, for never thro' so wan a wold
Walk'd one so sadly fair—
The wild snows drift, the wind blows shrill and cold,
And those soft feet are bare. . . .
Walk'd one so sadly fair—
The wild snows drift, the wind blows shrill and cold,
And those soft feet are bare. . . .
O who is this that walketh the wintry night,
With naked hands and feet!
O who is this that beareth a blood-red light,
And weareth a winding-sheet!
With naked hands and feet!
O who is this that beareth a blood-red light,
And weareth a winding-sheet!
The night is still, no living thing makes moan;
Silent the cold skies loom;—
But hark! what voice is this, so faintly blown
Across the gloom?
Silent the cold skies loom;—
But hark! what voice is this, so faintly blown
Across the gloom?
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‘Balder! Balder!’
Hush! that cry!
The form stands white i' the chilly night,
Holding its lamp on high.
Hush! that cry!
The form stands white i' the chilly night,
Holding its lamp on high.
‘Balder! Balder!
Where art thou?’
The snow smooths still with fingers chill
Dead Balder's brow.
Where art thou?’
The snow smooths still with fingers chill
Dead Balder's brow.
O gentle Death,
What voice is this that cries?
What sad shape stands with lifted hands
Alone under the skies?
What voice is this that cries?
What sad shape stands with lifted hands
Alone under the skies?
‘Balder! O Balder!
Answer me!’
He stands and softly sighs,
And vacant are his eyes
As if they cannot see!
Answer me!’
He stands and softly sighs,
And vacant are his eyes
As if they cannot see!
Yet in the weary gloom full faint they glow,
And fix themselves at last—
He sees dead Balder sleeping in the snow,
And thither he fleeteth fast!
And fix themselves at last—
He sees dead Balder sleeping in the snow,
And thither he fleeteth fast!
He comes now swifter than a bark
Which bitter tempests blow,—
Dreadful he flashes down the dark,
With black prints on the snow!
Which bitter tempests blow,—
Dreadful he flashes down the dark,
With black prints on the snow!
‘Wake, Balder! wake!’
His voice calls now—
The shrill cry circles like a snake
Round Balder's brow!
His voice calls now—
The shrill cry circles like a snake
Round Balder's brow!
Oh, who is this that walketh the wintry night
With naked hands and feet?
O who is this that beareth a blood-red light
And weareth a winding-sheet?
With naked hands and feet?
O who is this that beareth a blood-red light
And weareth a winding-sheet?
There is a gleam upon his brow and hair
Ev'n as of luminous hands,
Swiftly he comes to Balder's side, and there
He stands!
Ev'n as of luminous hands,
Swiftly he comes to Balder's side, and there
He stands!
And Death crawls moaning from his snowy seat
To grasp his raiment hem,
And toucheth with his mouth the piercëd feet,
Yea, softly kisseth them.
To grasp his raiment hem,
And toucheth with his mouth the piercëd feet,
Yea, softly kisseth them.
O Death! pale Death!
He gazeth down on thee—
His smile is like no smile of thing of breath,
Yet is it sweet to see.
He gazeth down on thee—
His smile is like no smile of thing of breath,
Yet is it sweet to see.
He lifts the lamp—and lo! its red rays glance
On Balder's sleeping eyes—
‘Balder! O Balder! from thy trance
Arise!’ . . . .
On Balder's sleeping eyes—
‘Balder! O Balder! from thy trance
Arise!’ . . . .
Strange flash'd the wondrous ray
Aslant the silent snows;
Death wail'd—and slowly, gaunt and gray,
Dead Balder rose!
Aslant the silent snows;
Death wail'd—and slowly, gaunt and gray,
Dead Balder rose!
IV. ‘Wake, Balder! Wake!’
Silent rose Balder, ev'n as one
Who wakens from a swoon,
Turning his head from side to side
In the red wintry moon.
Who wakens from a swoon,
Turning his head from side to side
In the red wintry moon.
Wrapt in his winding-sheet of snow
He loom'd in the dim light,
And marble-pale his cold cheeks gleam'd
Under his locks of white.
He loom'd in the dim light,
And marble-pale his cold cheeks gleam'd
Under his locks of white.
‘Wake, Balder! wake!’ the strange voice cried;
Dead Balder woke and heard,
And turn'd his face to his who spake,
Shiv'ring, but said no word.
Dead Balder woke and heard,
And turn'd his face to his who spake,
Shiv'ring, but said no word.
‘Wake, Balder! wake!’ the strange voice cried;
And Balder woke and knew,—
And lo! upon his lips and hair
A golden glimmer grew!
And Balder woke and knew,—
And lo! upon his lips and hair
A golden glimmer grew!
O who art thou with blessed voice,
Who biddest my heart beat?
And wherefore hast thou waken'd me
From sleep so heavenly sweet?’
Who biddest my heart beat?
And wherefore hast thou waken'd me
From sleep so heavenly sweet?’
Then answer'd back that tall still form,
In a clear voice and low,
Stretching his arms and brightening,
White-robed, and pale as snow.
In a clear voice and low,
Stretching his arms and brightening,
White-robed, and pale as snow.
‘I am thine elder Brother
Come from beyond the sea;
For many a weary night and day
I have been seeking thee!’
Come from beyond the sea;
For many a weary night and day
I have been seeking thee!’
Oh, Balder's cheeks are shining bright,
And smiles are on his face—
‘I dream'd, and saw one with a lamp
Passing from place to place.
And smiles are on his face—
‘I dream'd, and saw one with a lamp
Passing from place to place.
476
‘And ever, as he wander'd on,
Softly he cried to me—
Art thou mine elder Brother?
Then shall my lips kiss thee!’
Softly he cried to me—
Art thou mine elder Brother?
Then shall my lips kiss thee!’
‘I am thine elder Brother,
Come from beyond the sea;
Balder, my brother Balder,
Kiss thou me!’
Come from beyond the sea;
Balder, my brother Balder,
Kiss thou me!’
Death moans, and crouching on the snow
Uplooketh with eyes dim,
For Balder on his brother's breast
Hath fallen, kissing him.
Uplooketh with eyes dim,
For Balder on his brother's breast
Hath fallen, kissing him.
‘Thou art mine elder Brother,
The risen Balder cries;
‘I know thee by thy gentle voice
And by thy tearful eyes.
The risen Balder cries;
‘I know thee by thy gentle voice
And by thy tearful eyes.
‘Thou art mine elder Brother,
Most heavenly sad and sweet,
Yet wherefore hast thou piercëd hands
And naked piercëd feet?
Most heavenly sad and sweet,
Yet wherefore hast thou piercëd hands
And naked piercëd feet?
‘O wherefore are thy cheeks so chill,
Thy lips so cold and blue,
And wherefore com'st thou in thy shroud,
As if arisen too?’
Thy lips so cold and blue,
And wherefore com'st thou in thy shroud,
As if arisen too?’
The white Christ smiled in Balder's face,
But softly his tears ran—
‘Like thee I lived, like thee I loved,
And died, like thee, for Man.’
But softly his tears ran—
‘Like thee I lived, like thee I loved,
And died, like thee, for Man.’
V. The Birth and Death.
The white Christ cried, and on the air
His voice like music rang,
And Balder listen'd silently
As if an angel sang.
His voice like music rang,
And Balder listen'd silently
As if an angel sang.
‘Out of the dark Earth was I born,
Under the shining blue,
And to a human height I rose,
And drank the light, and grew.
Under the shining blue,
And to a human height I rose,
And drank the light, and grew.
‘The land was beauteous where I dwelt,
A still and silent land,
Where little pools of heaven fall
And gleam 'mid wastes of sand.
A still and silent land,
Where little pools of heaven fall
And gleam 'mid wastes of sand.
‘I loved the bright beasts of the earth,
And birds both great and small;
I loved all God made beautiful,
But mortals most of all.
And birds both great and small;
I loved all God made beautiful,
But mortals most of all.
‘For on their faces framed of clay,
And in their eyes divine,
I saw the shadow of the dream
Which nightly sadden'd mine.
And in their eyes divine,
I saw the shadow of the dream
Which nightly sadden'd mine.
‘But when I knew their days were dark,
And all their spirits sore,
Because of this same silent Death
Creeping from door to door,
And all their spirits sore,
Because of this same silent Death
Creeping from door to door,
‘I raised my hands to heaven and cried
On him that fashion'd me,
My Father dear who dwells in heaven,
And suffers Death to be.
On him that fashion'd me,
My Father dear who dwells in heaven,
And suffers Death to be.
‘And sweet and low this answer came
Out of the quiet sky—
All that is beautiful shall abide,
All that is base shall die!
Out of the quiet sky—
All that is beautiful shall abide,
All that is base shall die!
‘Take thou thy cross and bear it well,
And seek my servant Death:
Thou too shalt wither like a flower
Before his bitterest breath.
And seek my servant Death:
Thou too shalt wither like a flower
Before his bitterest breath.
‘Yea, thou shalt slumber in his arms
Three nights and days, and then,
With that cold kiss upon thy lips,
Awaken once again!
Three nights and days, and then,
With that cold kiss upon thy lips,
Awaken once again!
‘And when thou wakenest at last
Thy work is yet undone,
For thou shalt roam the Earth, and seek
Thy Brethren one by one!
Thy work is yet undone,
For thou shalt roam the Earth, and seek
Thy Brethren one by one!
‘Yea, one by one unto thy heart
Thy kin shall gather'd be,
Each pallid from the kiss of Death
And beautiful like thee!’
Thy kin shall gather'd be,
Each pallid from the kiss of Death
And beautiful like thee!’
‘O Balder, when my dark day came,
And in despair I died,
The same sad Death sang low to me,
Who croucheth at thy side!
And in despair I died,
The same sad Death sang low to me,
Who croucheth at thy side!
‘And all my living breath was gone
For three long nights and days,
And by my side the phantom knelt
Like one that waits and prays.
For three long nights and days,
And by my side the phantom knelt
Like one that waits and prays.
‘But when my Father's voice again
Came faint and low to me,
I rose out of my grave, and saw
Earth sleeping silently.
Came faint and low to me,
I rose out of my grave, and saw
Earth sleeping silently.
477
‘He who had hush'd me in his arms
Was busy other-where. . . .
I stood and watch'd my Father's eyes
Shine down thro' azure air.
Was busy other-where. . . .
I stood and watch'd my Father's eyes
Shine down thro' azure air.
‘Then softly, with a happy smile,
Along the land I crept,
And found the men that I had loved,
Who waited, lived, and wept.
Along the land I crept,
And found the men that I had loved,
Who waited, lived, and wept.
‘And lo, I blessed them one and all,
And cried with a human cry,
“All that is beautiful shall abide,
All that is base shall die.”
And cried with a human cry,
“All that is beautiful shall abide,
All that is base shall die.”
‘But when my loving task was done,
My soul took better cheer,
And wandering thro' the world unseen
I sought my Brethren dear.
My soul took better cheer,
And wandering thro' the world unseen
I sought my Brethren dear.
‘All in my robe of snowy white
From realm to realm I trod,
Seeking my Brethren who had died,
The golden Sons of God!’
From realm to realm I trod,
Seeking my Brethren who had died,
The golden Sons of God!’
VI. The Paracletes.
‘I wander'd east, thro' shining realms
Of bright and brazen day,
And there, by a great river's side,
I saw a Brother pray.
Of bright and brazen day,
And there, by a great river's side,
I saw a Brother pray.
‘For past his feet the corpses drave
Along the yellow tide,
Chased by the emerald water-snakes
And vultures crimson-eyed.
Along the yellow tide,
Chased by the emerald water-snakes
And vultures crimson-eyed.
‘And from the banks there rose a wail
Of women for their dead;
They wept and tore their linen robes,
And plunged 'neath wheels of dread.
Of women for their dead;
They wept and tore their linen robes,
And plunged 'neath wheels of dread.
‘Upon his brow he wore a crown,
But his black feet were bare,
And in his bright and brooding eyes
There dwelt a piteous care.
But his black feet were bare,
And in his bright and brooding eyes
There dwelt a piteous care.
‘From his red lips there came a sound
Like music of a psalm,
And those who listen'd ceased their tears
And grew divinely calm.
Like music of a psalm,
And those who listen'd ceased their tears
And grew divinely calm.
‘On his own grave he sat and smiled,
A spirit dark and sweet,
And there were flowers upon his head
And fruits around his feet. . . .
A spirit dark and sweet,
And there were flowers upon his head
And fruits around his feet. . . .
‘I wander'd west where eagles soar
Far o'er the realms of rains,
And there, among pale mountain peaks,
One hung in iron chains.
Far o'er the realms of rains,
And there, among pale mountain peaks,
One hung in iron chains.
‘His head was hoary as the snow
Of that serene cold clime,
Yet like a child he smiled, and sang
The cradle song of Time.
Of that serene cold clime,
Yet like a child he smiled, and sang
The cradle song of Time.
‘And as he sang upon his cross,
And in no human tones,
The cruel gods who placed him there
Were shaken on their thrones.
And in no human tones,
The cruel gods who placed him there
Were shaken on their thrones.
‘I kiss'd him softly on the lips,
And sighing set him free—
He wanders now in the green world,
Divine, like thee and me. . . .
And sighing set him free—
He wanders now in the green world,
Divine, like thee and me. . . .
‘Then faring on with foot of fire
I cross'd the windy main.
And reach'd a mighty continent
Wash'd green with dew and rain.
I cross'd the windy main.
And reach'd a mighty continent
Wash'd green with dew and rain.
‘There swift as lightning in the sun
Ran beauteous flocks and herds,
And there were forests flashing bright,
And many-colour'd birds.
Ran beauteous flocks and herds,
And there were forests flashing bright,
And many-colour'd birds.
‘And there the red-skin'd hunters chased
The deer and wild black kine,—
And lo! another gentle god
Was sitting in a shrine!
The deer and wild black kine,—
And lo! another gentle god
Was sitting in a shrine!
‘His skin enwrought, as if he lived,
With mystic signs, sat he;
Shaven his forehead, and his face
Was painted terribly.
With mystic signs, sat he;
Shaven his forehead, and his face
Was painted terribly.
‘Yet was he gentle as the dew,
And gracious as the rain:
With healing gifts he made men glad
Upon that mighty plain. . . .
And gracious as the rain:
With healing gifts he made men glad
Upon that mighty plain. . . .
‘I wander'd south, where rivers roll'd
Yellow with slime and sand,
And, black against an orange sky,
I saw another stand.
Yellow with slime and sand,
And, black against an orange sky,
I saw another stand.
‘Two cymbals held he as he stood,
And clash'd them with shrill wail:
The clash was as the thunder's voice,
Heard 'mid the drifting gale.
And clash'd them with shrill wail:
The clash was as the thunder's voice,
Heard 'mid the drifting gale.
478
‘Black was his skin as blackest night,
Naked as night each limb,
Yet in his eyeballs, on his cheeks,
The heavenly dew did swim. . . .
Naked as night each limb,
Yet in his eyeballs, on his cheeks,
The heavenly dew did swim. . . .
‘O Balder, these thy Brethren were
Surely as they were mine.
I wander north, and thee I find
The best and most divine!
Surely as they were mine.
I wander north, and thee I find
The best and most divine!
‘Yea, each of these was offer'd up
As thou hast been, and I;
Their blood was drifted ev'n as smoke
Up to the silent sky.
As thou hast been, and I;
Their blood was drifted ev'n as smoke
Up to the silent sky.
‘All these loved Man and the green Earth
As thou hast done, and I;
And each of these by stronger gods
Was smitten down to die.
As thou hast done, and I;
And each of these by stronger gods
Was smitten down to die.
‘Yet ever when I came, and spake
The word and made the sign,
Their souls grew clothed in gentleness
And rose again with mine!
The word and made the sign,
Their souls grew clothed in gentleness
And rose again with mine!
‘Yea, for the love of living men
They stood renew'd in breath,
And smote the great gods from their thrones
With looks made strong thro' Death.
They stood renew'd in breath,
And smote the great gods from their thrones
With looks made strong thro' Death.
‘With faces fair they rose and wrought
Against the gods with me,
To make the green Earth beautiful
From shining sea to sea.
Against the gods with me,
To make the green Earth beautiful
From shining sea to sea.
‘Yea, Balder, these thy Brethren were,
Surely as they were mine:
My Father's blessing on thy lips,
For thou, too, art divine!’
Surely as they were mine:
My Father's blessing on thy lips,
For thou, too, art divine!’
VII.
Beneath his feet the pale Death crouch'd
Ev'n as a lean white bear,
Watching with dark and dreamful eyes
That face so strangely fair.
Ev'n as a lean white bear,
Watching with dark and dreamful eyes
That face so strangely fair.
But paler, sadder, wearier,
Stood Balder in his shroud,
While overhead a star's still hand
Parted the drifting cloud;
Stood Balder in his shroud,
While overhead a star's still hand
Parted the drifting cloud;
And from the lattices of heaven
The star look'd down on him;
But Balder saw not, and his eyes
With tearful dews were dim,
The star look'd down on him;
But Balder saw not, and his eyes
With tearful dews were dim,
‘O Brother, on my sense still lies
The burthen of my sleep,
A weight is on me like the weight
Of winter on the Deep.
The burthen of my sleep,
A weight is on me like the weight
Of winter on the Deep.
‘For I remember as I wake
Mine old glad life of dream—
The vision of the bridal Earth,
The glory and the gleam!
Mine old glad life of dream—
The vision of the bridal Earth,
The glory and the gleam!
‘Oh, beautiful was the bright Earth,
And round her purple bed
The torches of great rivers burnt
Amber and blue and red!
And round her purple bed
The torches of great rivers burnt
Amber and blue and red!
‘And beautiful were living men,
Wandering to and fro,
With sun and moon and stars for lights,
And flowers and leaves below.
Wandering to and fro,
With sun and moon and stars for lights,
And flowers and leaves below.
‘But evermore this phantom Death
Was darkening the sun,
Seeking the sweetest to destroy.
Sparing and pitying none.
Was darkening the sun,
Seeking the sweetest to destroy.
Sparing and pitying none.
‘And lo, I live, and at my feet
Death cold and silent lies,—
While in thine own dear Father's name
Thou biddest me arise.
Death cold and silent lies,—
While in thine own dear Father's name
Thou biddest me arise.
‘O wherefore should I rise at all
Since all is black above,
And trampled 'neath the feet of gods
Lie all the shapes I love?
Since all is black above,
And trampled 'neath the feet of gods
Lie all the shapes I love?
‘Ay me, the dead are strewn with snows,
They sleep and cannot see,
With no soft voice to waken them
As thine has waken'd me!
They sleep and cannot see,
With no soft voice to waken them
As thine has waken'd me!
‘And wherefore should my soul forget
What cruel kin were mine,
Tho' in another Father's name
Thou greetest me divine?’
What cruel kin were mine,
Tho' in another Father's name
Thou greetest me divine?’
The white Christ gazed in Balder's face,
And held his hand, and cried,
‘Divine thou art and beautiful,
And therefore must abide!
And held his hand, and cried,
‘Divine thou art and beautiful,
And therefore must abide!
‘And in mine own dear Father's name
I greet and bid thee rise,
And we shall stand before his throne
And look into his eyes.’
I greet and bid thee rise,
And we shall stand before his throne
And look into his eyes.’
479
But Balder moan'd, ‘Who made the Earth,
And all things foul or fair?
Who made the white bear on the berg,
The eagle in the air?
And all things foul or fair?
Who made the white bear on the berg,
The eagle in the air?
‘Who made the lightning's forkëd flame,
Who thunder's blacken'd brand?
Who fashion'd Death, with fatal eyes,
Chill breath, and clammy hand?’
Who thunder's blacken'd brand?
Who fashion'd Death, with fatal eyes,
Chill breath, and clammy hand?’
Death stirred and clung to Bilder's feet
And utter'd forth a cry—
A thousand starry hands drew back
The curtains of the sky!
And utter'd forth a cry—
A thousand starry hands drew back
The curtains of the sky!
And countless eyes look'd calmly down
Thro' azure clear and cold,
And lo! the round red moon became
A shining lily of gold!
Thro' azure clear and cold,
And lo! the round red moon became
A shining lily of gold!
Then on the wilderness of snow
A lustrous sheen was shed,
And splendour as of starlight grew
Around the white Christ's head.
A lustrous sheen was shed,
And splendour as of starlight grew
Around the white Christ's head.
And Christ cried, gazing down on Death,
Making a mystic sign,
‘Now blessings on my servant Death,
For he too is divine.
Making a mystic sign,
‘Now blessings on my servant Death,
For he too is divine.
‘O Balder, he who fashion'd us,
And bade us live and move,
Shall weave for Death's sad heavenly hair
Immortal flowers of love.
And bade us live and move,
Shall weave for Death's sad heavenly hair
Immortal flowers of love.
‘Ah! never fail'd my servant Death,
Whene'er I named his name,—
But at my bidding he hath flown
As swift as frost or flame.
Whene'er I named his name,—
But at my bidding he hath flown
As swift as frost or flame.
‘Yea, as a sleuth-hound tracks a man,
And finds his form, and springs,
So hath he hunted down the gods
As well as human things!
And finds his form, and springs,
So hath he hunted down the gods
As well as human things!
‘Yet only thro' the strength of Death
A god shall fall or rise—
A thousand lie on the cold snows,
Stone still, with marble eyes.
A god shall fall or rise—
A thousand lie on the cold snows,
Stone still, with marble eyes.
‘But whosoe'er shall conquer Death,
Tho' mortal man he be,
Shall in his season rise again,
And live, with thee, and me!
Tho' mortal man he be,
Shall in his season rise again,
And live, with thee, and me!
‘And whosoe'er loves mortals most
Shall conquer Death the best,
Yea, whosoe'er grows beautiful
Shall grow divinely blest.’
Shall conquer Death the best,
Yea, whosoe'er grows beautiful
Shall grow divinely blest.’
The white Christ raised his shining face
To that still bright'ning sky.
‘Only the beautiful shall abide,
Only the base shall die!’
To that still bright'ning sky.
‘Only the beautiful shall abide,
Only the base shall die!’
VIII.
But Balder moan'd, ‘O beauteous Earth
Now lying cold and dead,
Bright flash'd the lamps of flowers and stars
Around thy golden head!
Now lying cold and dead,
Bright flash'd the lamps of flowers and stars
Around thy golden head!
‘And beautiful were beast and bird,
And lamb and speckled snake,
And beautiful were human things
Who gladden'd for my sake.
And lamb and speckled snake,
And beautiful were human things
Who gladden'd for my sake.
‘But lo! on one and all of those
Blew the cold blighting breath,
Until I died that they might live
And bought their life with death.
Blew the cold blighting breath,
Until I died that they might live
And bought their life with death.
‘Behold, I live, and all is dark,
And wasted is my pain,
For glimmering at my feet I see
The fatal eyes again.
And wasted is my pain,
For glimmering at my feet I see
The fatal eyes again.
‘Why stays he here upon the Earth?
Why lingers he below?
The empty heavens wait for him,—
'Tis ended—let him go!’
Why lingers he below?
The empty heavens wait for him,—
'Tis ended—let him go!’
Death look'd up with a loving face,
And smiled from the white ground;—
The stars that sat upon their thrones
Seem'd singing with low sound.
And smiled from the white ground;—
The stars that sat upon their thrones
Seem'd singing with low sound.
The white Christ cried, ‘The green Earth lives!
She sleeps, but hath not died!
She and all fair things thou hast named
Shall quicken and abide!
She sleeps, but hath not died!
She and all fair things thou hast named
Shall quicken and abide!
‘O Balder, those great gods to whom
Thy radiant life was given,
Were far too frail to keep their plight
And summon Death to heaven.
Thy radiant life was given,
Were far too frail to keep their plight
And summon Death to heaven.
‘There is no god of all thy kin
Dare name that name aloud:
When his cold hand was on thy heart,
Each crouch'd within his cloud.
Dare name that name aloud:
480
Each crouch'd within his cloud.
‘Thou couldst not buy the boon of those,
They were too weak and poor;
Fain would they buy a boon of thee,
Now thy strange sleep is o'er!
They were too weak and poor;
Fain would they buy a boon of thee,
Now thy strange sleep is o'er!
‘Yet now for evermore fulfilled
Is thine ancestral rune,
For thou indeed hast conquer'd Death
And won thy gentle boon.
Is thine ancestral rune,
For thou indeed hast conquer'd Death
And won thy gentle boon.
‘Yea, thou hast died as fair things die
In earth, and air, and deep,
Yet hast thou risen thrice beautiful
Out of thy solemn sleep.
In earth, and air, and deep,
Yet hast thou risen thrice beautiful
Out of thy solemn sleep.
‘For life thrice seal'd and sanctified
Is on thy lips and eyes;
And whatsoe'er grows fair like thee
By love shall also rise.
Is on thy lips and eyes;
And whatsoe'er grows fair like thee
By love shall also rise.
‘Lo! out of beauty cast away
Another beauty grows:
What Death reaps in the fields of life
In fairer fields he sows.
Another beauty grows:
What Death reaps in the fields of life
In fairer fields he sows.
‘And thro' a thousand gates of gloom,
With tracts of life between,
The creatures that the Father made
Creep on, now hid, now seen;
With tracts of life between,
The creatures that the Father made
Creep on, now hid, now seen;
‘And duly out of every doom
A sweeter issue flows,
As out of dreary dooms of gods
At last thy glory rose!
A sweeter issue flows,
As out of dreary dooms of gods
At last thy glory rose!
‘So fairer yet, and ever fair,
Thy soul divine shall gleam,
A spirit springing from a tomb
And rainbow'd into dream!
Thy soul divine shall gleam,
A spirit springing from a tomb
And rainbow'd into dream!
‘O kiss me, Brother, on the mouth,
Yea, kiss me thrice again;
For when I feel thy kiss, I feel
The sun, and the wind, and the rain!
Yea, kiss me thrice again;
For when I feel thy kiss, I feel
The sun, and the wind, and the rain!
‘The dead Earth wakens 'neath thy feet,
Flame kindles thro' the sod. . . .
O kiss me with thy human lips,
Thou brightest born of God!’
Flame kindles thro' the sod. . . .
O kiss me with thy human lips,
Thou brightest born of God!’
VIII. THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS.
I.
‘Balder! Balder!’
And Balder said,
Turning round his gentle head,
‘I hear!’
Turning round his gentle head,
‘I hear!’
‘And thou, my servant Death,
Kneeling low with hushëd breath,
While my hand is on thy hair!’
Kneeling low with hushëd breath,
While my hand is on thy hair!’
Death made answer, kneeling there,
‘I hear!’
‘I hear!’
‘At last the cold snows cease,
The white world is hush'd in peace,
The sky is clear, the storm has gone,
Stars are rising to light us on—
In the north the moon grows gray,—
Take my hand and come away!’
The white world is hush'd in peace,
The sky is clear, the storm has gone,
Stars are rising to light us on—
In the north the moon grows gray,—
Take my hand and come away!’
‘Whither, O Whither?’
‘To the City strange wherein
Dwell the mighty gods thy kin;—
O Balder, lead me thither!’
Dwell the mighty gods thy kin;—
O Balder, lead me thither!’
‘Across the darkness and the day,
Long and dreary is the way—
O'er chill wastes of misery,
Past the silent Frozen Sea,
Where the white bears lean and old
Run and shiver in the cold—
Where the vast ice-mountains rise
Violet-blue against the skies,
Then across the wondrous Bow
Only gods and ghosts may tread,—
Beyond the sea, above the snow,
Where the sunfire fadeth red;
There the night lies and no day—
Long and weary is the way—
O Brother, fare not thither!’
Long and dreary is the way—
O'er chill wastes of misery,
Past the silent Frozen Sea,
Where the white bears lean and old
Run and shiver in the cold—
Where the vast ice-mountains rise
Violet-blue against the skies,
Then across the wondrous Bow
Only gods and ghosts may tread,—
Beyond the sea, above the snow,
Where the sunfire fadeth red;
There the night lies and no day—
Long and weary is the way—
O Brother, fare not thither!’
‘Broken is the wintry night,
Rising yonder is the light;
Half our task is yet to do—
Come! and thou, Death, follow too—
O Balder, lead me thither!’
Rising yonder is the light;
Half our task is yet to do—
Come! and thou, Death, follow too—
O Balder, lead me thither!’
Far away across the gloom,
Rose-red like a rose in bloom,
Flashing, changing, ray by ray,
Glorious as the ghost of day,
Gleam'd in one vast aureole
Shifting splendours of the pole.
All across the vault of blue
Shooting lights and colours flew,
And the milky way shone there
Like a bosom white and bare,
Throbbing, trembling, softly moved
By some heart that lived and loved.
Night was broken, and grew bright.
All the countless lamps of light
Swinging, flashing, near and far,
Cast their glittering rays below,—
While the silvern polar star
Throbb'd close down upon the snow. . . .
Rose-red like a rose in bloom,
481
Glorious as the ghost of day,
Gleam'd in one vast aureole
Shifting splendours of the pole.
All across the vault of blue
Shooting lights and colours flew,
And the milky way shone there
Like a bosom white and bare,
Throbbing, trembling, softly moved
By some heart that lived and loved.
Night was broken, and grew bright.
All the countless lamps of light
Swinging, flashing, near and far,
Cast their glittering rays below,—
While the silvern polar star
Throbb'd close down upon the snow. . . .
‘Take my hand, and let us go!’
II.
And so those twain have passed across the night,
O'er frozen wilds of white,
With eyes still fixed upon the polar star
That burneth bright afar;
And Death behind them, creeping like a hound,
Still follows with no sound.
O'er frozen wilds of white,
With eyes still fixed upon the polar star
That burneth bright afar;
And Death behind them, creeping like a hound,
Still follows with no sound.
O wonders of the cold untravell'd Waste
Whereon their swift feet haste!
The night is troubled; on the black pole's pyres
Flash fierce electric fires,
And shadows come and go, phantoms move forth
Gigantic in the north.
Upon the snow a green light glimmereth,
With phosphorescent breath
Flashing and fading; and from unseen lairs
Creep hoary ghost-like bears,
Crawling across their path without a cry.
Whereon their swift feet haste!
The night is troubled; on the black pole's pyres
Flash fierce electric fires,
And shadows come and go, phantoms move forth
Gigantic in the north.
Upon the snow a green light glimmereth,
With phosphorescent breath
Flashing and fading; and from unseen lairs
Creep hoary ghost-like bears,
Crawling across their path without a cry.
At last against the sky
They see the lonely arctic mountains loom,
Touch'd with a violet bloom
From peak to base and wearing on their heights
Strange ever-shifting lights,
Yellow and azure and dark amethyst;
But westward they are kissed
By the bright beams of a great moon of gold.
Dead-white and calm and cold
Sleeps the great waste, while ever as they go,
With shadows on the snow.
Their shapes grow luminous and silvern fair,
And in the hush'd chill air
The stars of heaven cluster with quick breath
To gaze on them and Death.
Now thro' the trembling sheen of the still sky
Blue fires and emerald fly
With wan reflections on the sheeted white
Outspread beneath the night,
And passing thro' them, Christ and Balder seem
As spectres in a dream,
Until at last their feet come silently
To the great arctic sea.
They see the lonely arctic mountains loom,
Touch'd with a violet bloom
From peak to base and wearing on their heights
Strange ever-shifting lights,
Yellow and azure and dark amethyst;
But westward they are kissed
By the bright beams of a great moon of gold.
Dead-white and calm and cold
Sleeps the great waste, while ever as they go,
With shadows on the snow.
Their shapes grow luminous and silvern fair,
And in the hush'd chill air
The stars of heaven cluster with quick breath
To gaze on them and Death.
Now thro' the trembling sheen of the still sky
Blue fires and emerald fly
With wan reflections on the sheeted white
Outspread beneath the night,
And passing thro' them, Christ and Balder seem
As spectres in a dream,
Until at last their feet come silently
To the great arctic sea.
Moveless and boundless, stretching blindly forth
Into the purple north,
Rise mountainous waves and billows frozen all
As if i' the act to fall,
And tho' they stir not, yet they seem to roll
In silence to the pole.
So, lit by countless stars, that Ocean old
Wrapt in the vapours cold
Of its own breath, beneath the lamps of night
Gleams blue and shadowy white!
Then Balder crieth,—and around his brow
New glory glimmereth now,—
‘Ay me, remote from men are the abodes
Of the immortal gods;
Beyond the ocean of the ice; afar
Under the sleepless star;
And o'er the flood of the wild waters spanned.
From lonely land to land,
By the great bridge of the eternal Bow.’
Into the purple north,
Rise mountainous waves and billows frozen all
As if i' the act to fall,
And tho' they stir not, yet they seem to roll
In silence to the pole.
So, lit by countless stars, that Ocean old
Wrapt in the vapours cold
Of its own breath, beneath the lamps of night
Gleams blue and shadowy white!
Then Balder crieth,—and around his brow
New glory glimmereth now,—
‘Ay me, remote from men are the abodes
Of the immortal gods;
Beyond the ocean of the ice; afar
Under the sleepless star;
And o'er the flood of the wild waters spanned.
From lonely land to land,
By the great bridge of the eternal Bow.’
The white Christ answereth low,
‘Tho' it were further than the furthest light
That glimmereth this night,
Thither our souls are bound, our feet must go!’
‘Tho' it were further than the furthest light
That glimmereth this night,
Thither our souls are bound, our feet must go!’
III. The Bridge of Ghosts.
Their feet have passed the frozen Deep
Whose waves in silence roll,
And now they reach that ocean black
Which beats the inmost pole.
Whose waves in silence roll,
And now they reach that ocean black
Which beats the inmost pole.
Before them, on the northern sky
Rose-red and far withdrawn,
Mingled with meteors of the night,
Gleam golden dews of dawn;
Rose-red and far withdrawn,
482
Gleam golden dews of dawn;
And cast across that liquid sea
Which surges black below,
They see the pathway of the gods,
A many-colour'd Bow.
Which surges black below,
They see the pathway of the gods,
A many-colour'd Bow.
[There comes from off its heights a wind
That blows for endless time,
As swift as light, as keen as frost,
It strikes down souls that climb.]
That blows for endless time,
As swift as light, as keen as frost,
It strikes down souls that climb.]
‘O brother, place thy hand in mine,’
The gentle Balder said;
The rayless waters roar'd beneath,
The Bridge flash'd overhead.
The gentle Balder said;
The rayless waters roar'd beneath,
The Bridge flash'd overhead.
Then hand in hand against the wind
They falter'd upward slow,
On stairs of crimson and of gold
Climbing the wondrous Bow.
They falter'd upward slow,
On stairs of crimson and of gold
Climbing the wondrous Bow.
Like a great rainbow of the earth
It rose with faint hues seven,
And thro' the purple of the arch
Glimmer'd the lights of heaven.
It rose with faint hues seven,
And thro' the purple of the arch
Glimmer'd the lights of heaven.
When they had reach'd the midmost height,
In air they stood so high,
To one beneath they would have seem'd
As stars upon the sky.
In air they stood so high,
To one beneath they would have seem'd
As stars upon the sky.
The white Christ cried, ‘What lonely light
Burns yonder ruby red?’
‘The mansion of the sun-god Fryer
Stands yonder,’ Balder said.
Burns yonder ruby red?’
‘The mansion of the sun-god Fryer
Stands yonder,’ Balder said.
‘There ranged in rows with cold hands crost
The slain in silence lie,
The face of each ablaze like brass
Against the burning sky.’
The slain in silence lie,
The face of each ablaze like brass
Against the burning sky.’
Far under, as they linger'd there,
The dark deep waters roll'd;
Beyond, the polar mountains flash'd
With gleams of fiery gold.
The dark deep waters roll'd;
Beyond, the polar mountains flash'd
With gleams of fiery gold.
Upon the shores rose hills of ice
Hewn as in marble white,
Inlaid with opal and with pearl
And crown'd with chrysolite.
Hewn as in marble white,
Inlaid with opal and with pearl
And crown'd with chrysolite.
From stair to stair the brethren trod,
And Death crawl'd close behind,
And ever as they walk'd, the Bridge
Shook wavering in the wind.
And Death crawl'd close behind,
And ever as they walk'd, the Bridge
Shook wavering in the wind.
And lo! they seem'd as meteor shapes,
White-robed and shod with flame;
And to them out of the cold north
A threatening murmur came.
White-robed and shod with flame;
And to them out of the cold north
A threatening murmur came.
Down in the sullen sea below
Now ghostly faces clomb,
Uplooking with wild eyes to theirs
And waving hands of foam!
Now ghostly faces clomb,
Uplooking with wild eyes to theirs
And waving hands of foam!
So o'er the mighty Bow they moved
Snow-vestured and star-crown'd,
And Death behind them like a shade
Follow'd without a sound.
Snow-vestured and star-crown'd,
And Death behind them like a shade
Follow'd without a sound.
But as they reach'd the shores and stood,—
The bright Bridge at their back,—
The gods gazed out from the cold north
And shriek'd, and all grew black!
The bright Bridge at their back,—
The gods gazed out from the cold north
And shriek'd, and all grew black!
Deep thunders shook the darken'd heaven,
Wild lightning flash'd and fled,
The frozen shores of ice and snow
Trembled beneath their tread.
Wild lightning flash'd and fled,
The frozen shores of ice and snow
Trembled beneath their tread.
Round the ice-mountains of the pole
Dense smokes of tempest rose,
And from their lairs swift whirlwinds leapt
Wrapt round with drifting snows.
Dense smokes of tempest rose,
And from their lairs swift whirlwinds leapt
Wrapt round with drifting snows.
‘O Brother, hold me by the hand,
For lo! the hour is nigh;—
I see the shadows of the gods,
Yonder upon the sky!’
For lo! the hour is nigh;—
I see the shadows of the gods,
Yonder upon the sky!’
IV. ‘Behold, I am risen.’
They stood in the snow and they clung together,—
The air was blacken'd, the snow was driven;
There came a tempest of wintry weather
Out of the open gates of heaven.
The darkness drifted, the dark snows shifted,
The winnowing fans of the winds were lifted,
And the realms of the ice were riven;
The white flakes whirl'd like a wingëd cloud
Round and over and under;
The Earth shriek'd loud from her rending shroud,
And the black clouds echoed in thunder!
The air was blacken'd, the snow was driven;
There came a tempest of wintry weather
Out of the open gates of heaven.
The darkness drifted, the dark snows shifted,
The winnowing fans of the winds were lifted,
And the realms of the ice were riven;
The white flakes whirl'd like a wingëd cloud
Round and over and under;
The Earth shriek'd loud from her rending shroud,
And the black clouds echoed in thunder!
‘O Balder! Balder!’
483
And Balder replied,
Feeling not seeing his face who cried,
‘I hear!’
Feeling not seeing his face who cried,
‘I hear!’
‘And thou other who crouchest there,
Gazing up thro' thy hoary hair,
Stir not yet till I bid thee go!’
Gazing up thro' thy hoary hair,
Stir not yet till I bid thee go!’
And Death moan'd answer out of the snow,
‘I hear!’
‘I hear!’
‘At last the hour hath come,
The sky is troubled, the world is shaken,
The sleeping gods on their thrones awaken,
Altho' their lips are dumb.
I feel a breath from the frozen north,
For the souls of the slain are faring forth,
And their tramp is heard on the frozen ocean,
And their tread is swift in the vales of snow.
They come, and the great deep throbs below
To the sound of their thund'rous motion.
O Balder, Balder!’
The sky is troubled, the world is shaken,
The sleeping gods on their thrones awaken,
Altho' their lips are dumb.
I feel a breath from the frozen north,
For the souls of the slain are faring forth,
And their tramp is heard on the frozen ocean,
And their tread is swift in the vales of snow.
They come, and the great deep throbs below
To the sound of their thund'rous motion.
O Balder, Balder!’
‘I hearken, I hearken!’
‘Thro' the flakes that fall and the ways that darken,
Over the earth or over the sea,
North is the way that our feet must flee,
Till we find them sitting beyond the pole,
Gods without pity, gods without soul,
Fresh from the slaying of thee.
North is the way that our feet must go,
Breasting the blasts from the gates of woe,
Till we find them there in their sacred places,
Gods with their terrible bloodless faces,
Writing red-handed for mortal races
Black runes on the stainless snow!’
Over the earth or over the sea,
North is the way that our feet must flee,
Till we find them sitting beyond the pole,
Gods without pity, gods without soul,
Fresh from the slaying of thee.
North is the way that our feet must go,
Breasting the blasts from the gates of woe,
Till we find them there in their sacred places,
Gods with their terrible bloodless faces,
Writing red-handed for mortal races
Black runes on the stainless snow!’
. . . Deeper and darker the night is growing,
Faster and faster the clouds are snowing—
Fleeter and fleeter the Brethren fly
With faces silver'd against the sky,
Till close before them, beyond the pole,
The aurora flashes its fiery scroll,
While the winds of the frozen waste are blowing,
And the ice is riven asunder!
Lo! ghastly blue with a dreary gleam
The bergs of the pole, like ghosts in a dream,
Standing pallid against the heaven,
Flash with the forks of the fiery levin,
And to and fro in the frozen snow,
Pass manifold shapes of wonder.
Faster, faster, out of the north,
The ghosts of Asgard are hurrying forth,
And their shields of ice and their spears of hail
Clash in the heart of the gathering gale,
As they come upon feet of thunder.
Faster and faster the clouds are snowing—
Fleeter and fleeter the Brethren fly
With faces silver'd against the sky,
Till close before them, beyond the pole,
The aurora flashes its fiery scroll,
While the winds of the frozen waste are blowing,
And the ice is riven asunder!
Lo! ghastly blue with a dreary gleam
The bergs of the pole, like ghosts in a dream,
Standing pallid against the heaven,
Flash with the forks of the fiery levin,
And to and fro in the frozen snow,
Pass manifold shapes of wonder.
Faster, faster, out of the north,
The ghosts of Asgard are hurrying forth,
And their shields of ice and their spears of hail
Clash in the heart of the gathering gale,
As they come upon feet of thunder.
‘O Balder! Balder! cling unto me!’
‘Lift up thy lamp, for I cannot see—
I shiver deep to the bitter bone,—
While the chilly seeds of the sleet are sown
In my flesh, and I feel not thee!’
I shiver deep to the bitter bone,—
While the chilly seeds of the sleet are sown
In my flesh, and I feel not thee!’
The lamp is lifted: a dreary light
It sheddeth out on the northern night;
It comes and goes like the lighthouse ray
Lost on the soot-black ocean way.
Nought they see and nought they feel,
Only the frost with fingers of steel
Gripping their throats, so fierce, so fast,
Only the breath of the bitter blast
Bending their bodies as trees are bent,
Rending their garments as clouds are rent,
While overhead, with a thund'rous tread,
The black heavens frown to trample them down,
And the vials of storm are spent.
It sheddeth out on the northern night;
It comes and goes like the lighthouse ray
Lost on the soot-black ocean way.
Nought they see and nought they feel,
Only the frost with fingers of steel
Gripping their throats, so fierce, so fast,
Only the breath of the bitter blast
Bending their bodies as trees are bent,
Rending their garments as clouds are rent,
While overhead, with a thund'rous tread,
The black heavens frown to trample them down,
And the vials of storm are spent.
‘O Balder! Balder! what shadows white
Stand in the tempest's shrieking flight?
There in the darkness I discern
Faces that fade and eyes that burn;
They loom in the flash of the thunder-cloud,
And the tramp of their feet is as surges that roar,
Rolling around,
On some desolate rocky shore.’
Stand in the tempest's shrieking flight?
There in the darkness I discern
Faces that fade and eyes that burn;
They loom in the flash of the thunder-cloud,
And the tramp of their feet is as surges that roar,
Rolling around,
On some desolate rocky shore.’
Then Balder answer'd with eager cry—
‘Cover thy face lest thou droop and die:
'Tis the gods my brethren! I see them plain,
Each sitteth there in a spectral pain;
They search the waste all round for us,
And the light in their eyes is tremulous
With the wrath that burns the brain!’
‘Cover thy face lest thou droop and die:
'Tis the gods my brethren! I see them plain,
Each sitteth there in a spectral pain;
They search the waste all round for us,
And the light in their eyes is tremulous
With the wrath that burns the brain!’
. . . Blacker, blacker, the night is growing,
Thicker, faster, the snow is snowing.
Silent amid those frozen peaks
Sit gods with terrible bloodless cheeks,—
Each like a statue of marble stone,
Each alone on a lonely throne,
With the red aurora upon their hair,
They loom in desolate circles there,
Silent, with folded wings;
They do not stir though the storm drifts by,
They do not speak though the wild winds cry,
Silent they reign in a starry dream,
While the north star flashes its fiery beam,
And the serpent lightning springs. . . .
Silent they sit,—but who is He
Who broods in the centre awfully?
Like a pale blue berg in the frosty light,
Solemn, speechless, hoary white,
Coldly wrapt from head to feet
In a robe of snow like a winding-sheet,
With a crown of starlight on his hair,
He sitteth dreaming with fatal stare,
Tho' his throne is strangely shaken.
Black is his home, and he sits thereon
Still as a mortal whose breath is gone,
And the waves are frozen around his feet,
And faint, far under, the earthquakes beat,
Yet he broods, and doth not waken.
Thicker, faster, the snow is snowing.
Silent amid those frozen peaks
Sit gods with terrible bloodless cheeks,—
484
Each alone on a lonely throne,
With the red aurora upon their hair,
They loom in desolate circles there,
Silent, with folded wings;
They do not stir though the storm drifts by,
They do not speak though the wild winds cry,
Silent they reign in a starry dream,
While the north star flashes its fiery beam,
And the serpent lightning springs. . . .
Silent they sit,—but who is He
Who broods in the centre awfully?
Like a pale blue berg in the frosty light,
Solemn, speechless, hoary white,
Coldly wrapt from head to feet
In a robe of snow like a winding-sheet,
With a crown of starlight on his hair,
He sitteth dreaming with fatal stare,
Tho' his throne is strangely shaken.
Black is his home, and he sits thereon
Still as a mortal whose breath is gone,
And the waves are frozen around his feet,
And faint, far under, the earthquakes beat,
Yet he broods, and doth not waken.
‘O Balder! Balder! who is he
Who sitteth there so silently?
Who sitteth there so hoary and old,
A god in the midst of gods so cold,
And hears not at all, though the storm winds call,
And the ghosts of Asgard gather?’
Who sitteth there so silently?
Who sitteth there so hoary and old,
A god in the midst of gods so cold,
And hears not at all, though the storm winds call,
And the ghosts of Asgard gather?’
Then Balder answer'd, ‘The gods creep here,
Weary with seasons of strife and fear—
They come, they go—but for ever and aye
He stirreth not, be it night or day;
Still as a stone, he reigneth alone!’
Weary with seasons of strife and fear—
They come, they go—but for ever and aye
He stirreth not, be it night or day;
Still as a stone, he reigneth alone!’
And Balder raising his hands, made moan,
‘Behold I am risen, my Father!’
‘Behold I am risen, my Father!’
V. Alfadur.
The rune is woven, the spell is spoken,
And lo! the dream of the gods is broken,
And each pale throne is shaken.
They rise, they tremble against the sky,
They shriek an answer to Balder's cry
And white as death they waken!
Gods they glimmer in frozen mail,
Their faces are flashing marble pale,
They rise erect, and they wave their hands,
They scatter the shifting snows as sands,
And gaze in the face of the Father! . .
And lo! the dream of the gods is broken,
And each pale throne is shaken.
They rise, they tremble against the sky,
They shriek an answer to Balder's cry
And white as death they waken!
Gods they glimmer in frozen mail,
Their faces are flashing marble pale,
They rise erect, and they wave their hands,
They scatter the shifting snows as sands,
And gaze in the face of the Father! . .
. . . Blacker, blacker, the night is growing,
Faster, faster, the snow is snowing—
Silently looking thro' the storm,
Towers the one gigantic Form,
And all around with a trumpet sound
The wintry winds are blowing.
The light of doom is in his eyes, his arms spread wide for slaughter,
He sits 'mid gleams of burning skies and wails of wind-blown water,
Behind the outline of his cheeks the pale aurora flashes,
He broods 'mid moveless mountain peaks and looks thro' fiery lashes:
On heaven and earth that round him float in whirls of snowy wonder,
He looks, and from his awful throat there comes the cry of thunder!
Faster, faster, the snow is snowing—
Silently looking thro' the storm,
Towers the one gigantic Form,
And all around with a trumpet sound
The wintry winds are blowing.
The light of doom is in his eyes, his arms spread wide for slaughter,
He sits 'mid gleams of burning skies and wails of wind-blown water,
Behind the outline of his cheeks the pale aurora flashes,
He broods 'mid moveless mountain peaks and looks thro' fiery lashes:
On heaven and earth that round him float in whirls of snowy wonder,
He looks, and from his awful throat there comes the cry of thunder!
‘Balder! Balder!’
. . . ‘He cries on me—
He standeth yonder, and beckoneth!’
‘He looketh around, but he cannot see!
Answer him back with a gentle breath,
Now the air is still!’ . . .
He standeth yonder, and beckoneth!’
‘He looketh around, but he cannot see!
Answer him back with a gentle breath,
Now the air is still!’ . . .
‘I am here, I am here!’
. . . The cry went up to the godhead drear,
Like the cry of a lamb in the midst of the snow,
When the voices of tempest have sobbed their fill,
And the clouds are still
For a little space, and the winds lie low.
Then rose in answer a wail so loud
It roll'd as thunder from cloud to cloud,
And the gods arose in a wingëd crowd,
As oft 'mid desolate mountain-peaks,
With clangour of wings and hungry shrieks,
Great flocks of eagles gather.
Tearing asunder their frozen mail,
Smiting their breasts with a woful wail,
Looming with faces spectral pale,
They gazed in the eyes of the Father!
Then even as mighty eagles spread
Their wings and soar, they arose and fled
Crossing the gleam of the fiery north,
Facing the dark drift hurrying forth,
They flew on flashing pinions;
As wild clouds scatter'd across the sky,
They wing'd their way with a thundercry. . . .
But moveless there, when the rest had flown,
The Father sat on his silent throne,
Dreary, desolate, all alone,
In the midst of the white dominions.
. . . The cry went up to the godhead drear,
Like the cry of a lamb in the midst of the snow,
When the voices of tempest have sobbed their fill,
And the clouds are still
For a little space, and the winds lie low.
Then rose in answer a wail so loud
It roll'd as thunder from cloud to cloud,
And the gods arose in a wingëd crowd,
As oft 'mid desolate mountain-peaks,
With clangour of wings and hungry shrieks,
Great flocks of eagles gather.
Tearing asunder their frozen mail,
Smiting their breasts with a woful wail,
Looming with faces spectral pale,
They gazed in the eyes of the Father!
Then even as mighty eagles spread
Their wings and soar, they arose and fled
485
Facing the dark drift hurrying forth,
They flew on flashing pinions;
As wild clouds scatter'd across the sky,
They wing'd their way with a thundercry. . . .
But moveless there, when the rest had flown,
The Father sat on his silent throne,
Dreary, desolate, all alone,
In the midst of the white dominions.
‘Balder! Balder!’
‘He looks on me!
He stirreth now, with a sound like the sea,
And he calleth aloud!’
He stirreth now, with a sound like the sea,
And he calleth aloud!’
‘Then move no limb,
But crouch in thy place and answer him;—
Cry once more full loud and clear,
Now he pauseth again!’ . . .
But crouch in thy place and answer him;—
Cry once more full loud and clear,
Now he pauseth again!’ . . .
‘I am here, I am here!’
Again the thunder rolling near,
Again the tumult of wind and ocean;
Around the throne with a serpent motion
The meteor snakes appear.
White in the midst He stands, the Spirit of God the Master,
Waving his wild white hands, urging his snows on faster;
But ever darker yet the troubled air grows o'er him,
And still with fierce face set he searcheth night before him,
And then again, all blind, with black robes blown asunder,
He gropeth down the wind, and calls aloud in thunder,
Again the tumult of wind and ocean;
Around the throne with a serpent motion
The meteor snakes appear.
White in the midst He stands, the Spirit of God the Master,
Waving his wild white hands, urging his snows on faster;
But ever darker yet the troubled air grows o'er him,
And still with fierce face set he searcheth night before him,
And then again, all blind, with black robes blown asunder,
He gropeth down the wind, and calls aloud in thunder,
‘Balder, Balder.
. . . ‘I see him now,
The wrath of heaven is on his brow—
He stands in the circle of meteors white,
His white feet glimmer like cold moonlight—
I can feel his breath!’
The wrath of heaven is on his brow—
He stands in the circle of meteors white,
His white feet glimmer like cold moonlight—
I can feel his breath!’
‘Now hold my hand—
Rise erect on thy feet and stand—
Make answer!’
Rise erect on thy feet and stand—
Make answer!’
‘My Father, I am here!’
As an infant's cry, so faint, so clear,
As a young lamb's cry, so soft, so low,
Cometh the voice from the waste of snow,—
And silence deep as the sleep of ocean,
Stillness with no stir, no motion,
Follows the sound of the cry. . . .
Terrible, desolate, the Form
Stands and broods in the midst of the storm,
Beneath him wolves of the fierce frost swarm,
But quiet and hush'd they lie.
With his robe wind-rent and his form windblown
He gazeth round and round.
He seeth a snow amid the snow
And heareth a human sound.
As an infant's cry, so faint, so clear,
As a young lamb's cry, so soft, so low,
Cometh the voice from the waste of snow,—
And silence deep as the sleep of ocean,
Stillness with no stir, no motion,
Follows the sound of the cry. . . .
Terrible, desolate, the Form
Stands and broods in the midst of the storm,
Beneath him wolves of the fierce frost swarm,
But quiet and hush'd they lie.
With his robe wind-rent and his form windblown
He gazeth round and round.
He seeth a snow amid the snow
And heareth a human sound.
‘Balder! Balder!’
‘O Father dear,
Turn thine eyes and behold me here—
Ev'n Balder thy Son!’
Turn thine eyes and behold me here—
Ev'n Balder thy Son!’
‘I see thee not—
Only a gleam on a darken'd spot,
And the ray of the light in thy hand!’
Only a gleam on a darken'd spot,
And the ray of the light in thy hand!’
‘Ay me,
No light I carry that thou mayst see.
What wouldst thou, Father?’
No light I carry that thou mayst see.
What wouldst thou, Father?’
‘Why hast thou risen?
We deem'd thee dead, and we slept in peace—
We deem'd thee dead with the snow for prison,
That the old sad fear might cease.
We deem'd thee dead, and our hearts were light,
For never more would thy beauty blight
The spirit of Me thy Father!’
We deem'd thee dead, and we slept in peace—
We deem'd thee dead with the snow for prison,
That the old sad fear might cease.
We deem'd thee dead, and our hearts were light,
For never more would thy beauty blight
The spirit of Me thy Father!’
Then answer'd Balder, ‘O Father dear,
Turn thine eyes, and behold me here—
Why hatest thou me?’
Turn thine eyes, and behold me here—
Why hatest thou me?’
‘We hate thee all
For thy summer face, for thy soft footfall,
For thy beauty blended of star and flower,
For thine earthly love, for thine heavenly dower;
For the rune that was written, the rune that was read,
We cursed thee all, but our curse was said
Deepest and best when we read that rune
By thy love for men!’
For thy summer face, for thy soft footfall,
For thy beauty blended of star and flower,
For thine earthly love, for thine heavenly dower;
For the rune that was written, the rune that was read,
We cursed thee all, but our curse was said
Deepest and best when we read that rune
By thy love for men!’
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As the rising moon
Creeping up from a cloudy place,
A glory grew upon Balder's face—
Again he murmur'd, ‘O Father dear,
Turn thine eyes and behold me here—
Why hatest thou me?’
Creeping up from a cloudy place,
A glory grew upon Balder's face—
Again he murmur'd, ‘O Father dear,
Turn thine eyes and behold me here—
Why hatest thou me?’
‘We hate thee most
By the rune that was written, the rune that was lost,
By the doom that above thee hung sharp as a sword,
When thy feet stood there and thy voice implored
For pity of men; and we loved thee least
For loosing the yoke of man and beast,
For making the hearts of mortals tame,
For calming wild hawk-like men who came
To thy beck as doves; then we loathed to see
The light of thy name upon flower and tree,
The peace of thy name upon hill and vale,
The love of thy name on the faces pale
Of maidens and men; yea, for all these things,
For all thy life and the light it brings,
We have hated and hate thee unto death.’
By the rune that was written, the rune that was lost,
By the doom that above thee hung sharp as a sword,
When thy feet stood there and thy voice implored
For pity of men; and we loved thee least
For loosing the yoke of man and beast,
For making the hearts of mortals tame,
For calming wild hawk-like men who came
To thy beck as doves; then we loathed to see
The light of thy name upon flower and tree,
The peace of thy name upon hill and vale,
The love of thy name on the faces pale
Of maidens and men; yea, for all these things,
For all thy life and the light it brings,
We have hated and hate thee unto death.’
But Balder answereth back and saith,
‘Why hatest thou me?’
‘Why hatest thou me?’
‘For this the most!
Because thy coming is as the ghost
Of the coming doom that shall strike us dead.
For the rune was written, the rune was read,
And we knew no rest till we bought our breath
With the gentle boon of thy willing death.
Why hast thou risen? how hast thou risen?
We gave thee the frost and the snow for prison,
We heard thy sigh and we let thee die,
Yet thou criest again with a human cry
From the gates of life! . . . But I stoop at last
To sweep thee hence with my bitterest blast
Out to the heavens of pitiless air,
Where nevermore with a human care
Because thy coming is as the ghost
Of the coming doom that shall strike us dead.
For the rune was written, the rune was read,
And we knew no rest till we bought our breath
With the gentle boon of thy willing death.
Why hast thou risen? how hast thou risen?
We gave thee the frost and the snow for prison,
We heard thy sigh and we let thee die,
Yet thou criest again with a human cry
From the gates of life! . . . But I stoop at last
To sweep thee hence with my bitterest blast
Out to the heavens of pitiless air,
Where nevermore with a human care
That face of thine
May trouble the eyes of the gods divine!
Out 'mong the wingëd stars, deep down the dark abysses,
Beyond the black tomb's bars, far from the green Earth's kisses.
As dust thou shalt be cast, as snow thou shalt be drifted,
Seized by my fiercest blast thou shalt be now uplifted.
Call on all living things that stir in sun or shadow—
White flowers, sweet forms with wings, wild deer, or lambs o' the meadow;
Call on the moonlight now that mingled in thy making;
To heaven uplift thy brow, where the pale spheres are waking;
On water, air, and fire, on snow and on wind and on forest,
Call with a wild desire, now when thy need is sorest!
Call now on flower or bird to fill the plight they gave thee!
Call, let thy voice be heard, and see if Earth can save thee!’
May trouble the eyes of the gods divine!
Out 'mong the wingëd stars, deep down the dark abysses,
Beyond the black tomb's bars, far from the green Earth's kisses.
As dust thou shalt be cast, as snow thou shalt be drifted,
Seized by my fiercest blast thou shalt be now uplifted.
Call on all living things that stir in sun or shadow—
White flowers, sweet forms with wings, wild deer, or lambs o' the meadow;
Call on the moonlight now that mingled in thy making;
To heaven uplift thy brow, where the pale spheres are waking;
On water, air, and fire, on snow and on wind and on forest,
Call with a wild desire, now when thy need is sorest!
Call now on flower or bird to fill the plight they gave thee!
Call, let thy voice be heard, and see if Earth can save thee!’
Behind the back of the Shadow hoar,
There grew a trouble, a sullen roar,
Roar as of beasts that prepare to come,
Trouble like surges that flash to foam;
Faster and faster the drift whirl'd round,
Deeper and direr grew the sound,
And the four fierce winds are blowing!
Yet brighter, calmer grew Balder's face,
Till a light and a glory fill'd the place,
And he rose his height, like a lily white,
Like a lily white in the heart of the night,
With the flakes around him snowing!
There grew a trouble, a sullen roar,
Roar as of beasts that prepare to come,
Trouble like surges that flash to foam;
Faster and faster the drift whirl'd round,
Deeper and direr grew the sound,
And the four fierce winds are blowing!
Yet brighter, calmer grew Balder's face,
Till a light and a glory fill'd the place,
And he rose his height, like a lily white,
Like a lily white in the heart of the night,
With the flakes around him snowing!
VI. The Brethren.
‘Father, Father, why hatest thou me,
Whom the green Earth loves, and the circling sea,
And the pure blue air, and the light of the sun,
And the birds of the air, and the flowers each one?
Hatest thou me thro' my love for these?
For the swift deep rivers, the fronded trees,
The golden meres and the mountains white,
The cataracts leaping from height to height,
And the deer that feed on the snowy steeps
Where the rainbow hangs and the white mist creeps?
Hatest thou me the most of all
For my care of mortals whom thou hast made,
My blessing on lovers whose soft footfall
Soundeth still in the flowery shade?
Father, Father, hatest thou me,
Because of my light on humanity?
Because with a holy anointing balm
I have heal'd their hearts and kept them calm;
Because I have sown in forest and grove
The roses of beauty, the lilies of love,
That men might gather, and sweeten away
The taint of the perishable clay?
Father, Father, listen to me—
I will not call upon bird or tree,
I will not call upon lamb or dove,
On the flowers below or the stars above;
I will call aloud, and thine ears shall know,
I will call aloud in the midst of the snow,
On a mortal thing of mortal breath
Who has gazed and smiled in the eyes of Death,
Who has loosen'd his shround and his feet made free
To follow and find me over the sea.
. . . . My brother Jesus, hearest thou me!’
Whom the green Earth loves, and the circling sea,
And the pure blue air, and the light of the sun,
And the birds of the air, and the flowers each one?
Hatest thou me thro' my love for these?
For the swift deep rivers, the fronded trees,
The golden meres and the mountains white,
The cataracts leaping from height to height,
And the deer that feed on the snowy steeps
Where the rainbow hangs and the white mist creeps?
Hatest thou me the most of all
487
My blessing on lovers whose soft footfall
Soundeth still in the flowery shade?
Father, Father, hatest thou me,
Because of my light on humanity?
Because with a holy anointing balm
I have heal'd their hearts and kept them calm;
Because I have sown in forest and grove
The roses of beauty, the lilies of love,
That men might gather, and sweeten away
The taint of the perishable clay?
Father, Father, listen to me—
I will not call upon bird or tree,
I will not call upon lamb or dove,
On the flowers below or the stars above;
I will call aloud, and thine ears shall know,
I will call aloud in the midst of the snow,
On a mortal thing of mortal breath
Who has gazed and smiled in the eyes of Death,
Who has loosen'd his shround and his feet made free
To follow and find me over the sea.
. . . . My brother Jesus, hearest thou me!’
Sweet as a star that opens its lids of silver and amber,
Soft as a lily that rises out of a water still,
Pure as a lamp that burns in a virgin's vestal chamber
When winds with folded wings sleep on the scented sill,
Pale as the moving snow, yet calmer, clearer, and whiter,
Holding the light in his hand, and flashing a ray blood-red,
Robed in a silvern robe that ever grew stranger and brighter,
Robed in a robe of the snow, with a glory around his head,
Christ now arose! and upstanding held the cold hand of his Brother,
Turning his face to the storm like the wrath of some beautiful star,—
And the sound of the storm was hush'd, and pale grew the face of that Other,
He, Alfadur supreme, most direful of all gods that are!
Soft as a lily that rises out of a water still,
Pure as a lamp that burns in a virgin's vestal chamber
When winds with folded wings sleep on the scented sill,
Pale as the moving snow, yet calmer, clearer, and whiter,
Holding the light in his hand, and flashing a ray blood-red,
Robed in a silvern robe that ever grew stranger and brighter,
Robed in a robe of the snow, with a glory around his head,
Christ now arose! and upstanding held the cold hand of his Brother,
Turning his face to the storm like the wrath of some beautiful star,—
And the sound of the storm was hush'd, and pale grew the face of that Other,
He, Alfadur supreme, most direful of all gods that are!
‘Balder! Balder!’
‘O Father, I listen!’
‘What shape is this whose sad eyes glisten
Bright as the lamp he is uplifting?
Round and o'er him snows are drifting,
Yet as a still star shineth he,
Pale and beautiful like thee.
Who is this that standeth there
Even as a mortal man,
Thin and weary and wan,
A lanthorn in his hold,
His feet bloody and bare,
And a ring of brightest gold
Round his hair?’
Bright as the lamp he is uplifting?
Round and o'er him snows are drifting,
Yet as a still star shineth he,
Pale and beautiful like thee.
Who is this that standeth there
Even as a mortal man,
Thin and weary and wan,
A lanthorn in his hold,
His feet bloody and bare,
And a ring of brightest gold
Round his hair?’
‘O Father, 'tis he and none other
Who woke me from my tomb;
The Christ it is, my Brother,
Tho' born of a woman's womb.
He has conquer'd the grave, for lo!
He died and he rose again!
He comes to the silence of snow,
From the beautiful regions of rain;
And his hair is bright with a peaceful light
As the yellow moon's on a summer night,
And the flesh on his heart is heapen white
To cool an immortal pain!’
Who woke me from my tomb;
The Christ it is, my Brother,
Tho' born of a woman's womb.
He has conquer'd the grave, for lo!
He died and he rose again!
He comes to the silence of snow,
From the beautiful regions of rain;
And his hair is bright with a peaceful light
As the yellow moon's on a summer night,
And the flesh on his heart is heapen white
To cool an immortal pain!’
Blacker, blacker the night is growing,
Deeper, deeper the snow is snowing. . . .
As the rigid wave of the ocean-storm
Towereth the gigantic Form,
And he lifts his hand with a cold command,
And the shrill winds answer blowing!
Deeper, deeper the snow is snowing. . . .
As the rigid wave of the ocean-storm
Towereth the gigantic Form,
And he lifts his hand with a cold command,
And the shrill winds answer blowing!
A ghastly gleam is on his cheeks, his white robes roll asunder,
He raises up his arms and shrieks in his old voice of thunder,
‘The rune was writ, the rune is read—Son, thou hast slain thy Father,
The frames are quick that late were dead, and from the grave they gather,
The pale One cometh heavenly eyed, as in thy dreams, O Mother!
He wakes, he stands by Balder's side as brother smiles by brother.
O gods, these live, and must we die? these bloom, and must we wither?
Cry with a loud exceeding cry on Death and send him hither!
Come, come, O Death! I call on thee—come hither, fleeter, faster!
Thou hunter of humanity, thou hound of me thy Master!
Slay thou these twain, that we may live, who feed thy throat with slaughter,
And blood to quench thee gods will give, shed free as torrent water!
Come thou this night, O Death divine, come quickly or come never,
And the great Earth shall all be thine for ever and for ever!’
He raises up his arms and shrieks in his old voice of thunder,
‘The rune was writ, the rune is read—Son, thou hast slain thy Father,
The frames are quick that late were dead, and from the grave they gather,
The pale One cometh heavenly eyed, as in thy dreams, O Mother!
He wakes, he stands by Balder's side as brother smiles by brother.
O gods, these live, and must we die? these bloom, and must we wither?
Cry with a loud exceeding cry on Death and send him hither!
Come, come, O Death! I call on thee—come hither, fleeter, faster!
Thou hunter of humanity, thou hound of me thy Master!
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And blood to quench thee gods will give, shed free as torrent water!
Come thou this night, O Death divine, come quickly or come never,
And the great Earth shall all be thine for ever and for ever!’
snows are blowing, the Earth is crying,
The eagles of storm are shrieking and flying;
Thunder-cloud upon thunder-cloud
Piled, and flashing and roaring aloud,
Roll from the north, and the winds rush forth,
And the billows of heaven are breaking.
Hand in hand the Brethren stand,
Fair and bright in the midst of the night,
Fair and bright and marble white,
Quiet as babes awaking. . . .
But who is he that stirring slow,
Wrapt in winding-sheet of snow,
Riseth up from the Christ's feet?
His golden hair all white with sleet,
His eyes all dim, his face snow-pale,
He stands erect in the drifting gale!
Tall and terrible loometh he,
Facing the blast like a frozen tree!
The eagles of storm are shrieking and flying;
Thunder-cloud upon thunder-cloud
Piled, and flashing and roaring aloud,
Roll from the north, and the winds rush forth,
And the billows of heaven are breaking.
Hand in hand the Brethren stand,
Fair and bright in the midst of the night,
Fair and bright and marble white,
Quiet as babes awaking. . . .
But who is he that stirring slow,
Wrapt in winding-sheet of snow,
Riseth up from the Christ's feet?
His golden hair all white with sleet,
His eyes all dim, his face snow-pale,
He stands erect in the drifting gale!
Tall and terrible loometh he,
Facing the blast like a frozen tree!
‘Death, Death!’ the god shrieks now—
Death, Death, is it surely thou?
Death, Death!’ and the god laughs loud,
Answer'd by every thunder-cloud,
While the snows are falling faster,—
‘Death, Death, there is thy prey!—
Take them and tear them and rend them away,
As flakes of snow, as drops of spray,
In the name of Me thy Master!’ . . .
Death, Death, is it surely thou?
Death, Death!’ and the god laughs loud,
Answer'd by every thunder-cloud,
While the snows are falling faster,—
‘Death, Death, there is thy prey!—
Take them and tear them and rend them away,
As flakes of snow, as drops of spray,
In the name of Me thy Master!’ . . .
Like two lilies crown'd with gold,
Very beauteous to behold,
Blown in summer weather,
Like two lambs with silvern feet,
Very beauteous and sweet,
Held together with a chain
In some sacrificial fane,
The Brethren cling together.
Ever fairer still they grow
While the noise of storm sinks low,
And the Father's snow-white hand
Pointeth at them as they stand,
And the silent shape of Death
Creepeth close and shuddereth!
See, O see, the light they wear,
On their heads and o'er their hair,
Falleth on the Phantom now,
Lying softly on his brow. . . .
Death, O Death, can this be thou?
Very beauteous to behold,
Blown in summer weather,
Like two lambs with silvern feet,
Very beauteous and sweet,
Held together with a chain
In some sacrificial fane,
The Brethren cling together.
Ever fairer still they grow
While the noise of storm sinks low,
And the Father's snow-white hand
Pointeth at them as they stand,
And the silent shape of Death
Creepeth close and shuddereth!
See, O see, the light they wear,
On their heads and o'er their hair,
Falleth on the Phantom now,
Lying softly on his brow. . . .
Death, O Death, can this be thou?
VII. Father and Son.
Now hark, one crieth!
‘My servant Death,
Kneeling there with hushëd breath,
Listen, ere I bid thee go!’
Death makes answer out of the snow,
‘I hear!’
Kneeling there with hushëd breath,
Listen, ere I bid thee go!’
Death makes answer out of the snow,
‘I hear!’
The Christ hath risen his height,
Large and strange in a lonely light,
And he lifts his hand and makes the sign
Of the blessed cross on his breast divine,
And the thrones of the white gods flash like fire,
And sink in earthquake around the Sire,
Shaken and rent asunder!
Then he lifts his hand and he makes the sign
Once again on his breast divine,
And the mountains of ice around the throne
Are troubled like breakers rolling on
To the sound of their own thunder!
Large and strange in a lonely light,
And he lifts his hand and makes the sign
Of the blessed cross on his breast divine,
And the thrones of the white gods flash like fire,
And sink in earthquake around the Sire,
Shaken and rent asunder!
Then he lifts his hand and he makes the sign
Once again on his breast divine,
And the mountains of ice around the throne
Are troubled like breakers rolling on
To the sound of their own thunder!
‘Father! Father!’ Balder cries,
With arms outstretch'd and weeping eyes,
‘Father!’—but lo! the white Christ stands,
Raising yet his holy hands,
And cries, ‘O Death, speed on! speed on!
Conquer now and take thy throne—
Now all the gods have taken flight,
Reign thou there one starless night
In the room of him, the Father!’
With arms outstretch'd and weeping eyes,
‘Father!’—but lo! the white Christ stands,
Raising yet his holy hands,
And cries, ‘O Death, speed on! speed on!
Conquer now and take thy throne—
Now all the gods have taken flight,
Reign thou there one starless night
In the room of him, the Father!’
Slowly over the icy ground,
Slow and low like a lean sleuth-hound,
Without a breath, without a sound,
The phantom form is crawling.
He makes no shadow, he leaves no trace,
Snow on snow he creepeth apace,
Nearer, nearer, the fixëd Face
Veil'd with the flakes still falling.
‘Father! Father!’ Balder cries . . .
Silent, terrible, under the skies,
Sits the God on his throne, with eyes on his Son
Whose gentle voice is calling!
As the cuckoo calls in the heart of the May
Singing the flowers together,
As the fountain calls thro' its flashing spray,
As a lamb calls low 'mid a mountain-cloud,
As a spirit calls to a corpse in its shroud,
The Son cries on the Father!
Slow and low like a lean sleuth-hound,
Without a breath, without a sound,
The phantom form is crawling.
He makes no shadow, he leaves no trace,
Snow on snow he creepeth apace,
Nearer, nearer, the fixëd Face
Veil'd with the flakes still falling.
‘Father! Father!’ Balder cries . . .
Silent, terrible, under the skies,
Sits the God on his throne, with eyes on his Son
Whose gentle voice is calling!
As the cuckoo calls in the heart of the May
Singing the flowers together,
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As a lamb calls low 'mid a mountain-cloud,
As a spirit calls to a corpse in its shroud,
The Son cries on the Father!
VIII. Twilight.
The wind is blowing, the skies are snowing,
The ice is rent and the rocks are riven,
But morning light in the north is growing,
Crimson light of the altars of heaven.
Silent, still, amidst the storm,
Sitteth there the formless Form,
Hearkening out of his hoary hair,
Waiting on in a dark despair,
While the burning heavens flame o'er him! . . .
Suddenly, wild and wing'd and bright,
Towering to heaven in shroud of white,
A phantom upriseth against the light
And standeth vast before him. . . .
Is it a Shadow, or only the snow?
The skies are troubled, the light burns low,
But stars still gather and gather.
Is it a Shadow, or only the snow,
Uprising there in the blood-red glow,
Ever towering higher and higher,
In a robe of whiteness fringed with fire,
Outstretching wings without a cry
From verge to verge of the burning sky,
With eyes on the eyes of the Father?
The ice is rent and the rocks are riven,
But morning light in the north is growing,
Crimson light of the altars of heaven.
Silent, still, amidst the storm,
Sitteth there the formless Form,
Hearkening out of his hoary hair,
Waiting on in a dark despair,
While the burning heavens flame o'er him! . . .
Suddenly, wild and wing'd and bright,
Towering to heaven in shroud of white,
A phantom upriseth against the light
And standeth vast before him. . . .
Is it a Shadow, or only the snow?
The skies are troubled, the light burns low,
But stars still gather and gather.
Is it a Shadow, or only the snow,
Uprising there in the blood-red glow,
Ever towering higher and higher,
In a robe of whiteness fringed with fire,
Outstretching wings without a cry
From verge to verge of the burning sky,
With eyes on the eyes of the Father?
Now Balder crieth, ‘What shape comes there,
Terrible, troubling the heavens and air?
Is it Norna the arctic swan,
The bright and bodiless Skeleton,
Bird-shaped, with a woman's breasts and eyes,
Whose wings are wide as the world and skies?
Is it Norna, or only the snow,
Moving yonder against the glow,
Ever towering higher and higher,
Ever outspreading pinions dire
And looking down in a dumb desire,
With eyes on the eyes of the Father!’
Terrible, troubling the heavens and air?
Is it Norna the arctic swan,
The bright and bodiless Skeleton,
Bird-shaped, with a woman's breasts and eyes,
Whose wings are wide as the world and skies?
Is it Norna, or only the snow,
Moving yonder against the glow,
Ever towering higher and higher,
Ever outspreading pinions dire
And looking down in a dumb desire,
With eyes on the eyes of the Father!’
It is not Norna, it is not the snow.
The skies are troubled; the light burns low;
Yet stars still gather and gather.
‘Father! Father! awaken, awaken!
One bends above thee with bright hair shaken
Over thy throne like a falling flame;
One toucheth thy cheek and nameth thy name,
In a voice I hear, in a tone I know;
It is not Norna, it is not the snow,
By the face and the voice and the tone.
Vaster than these and vaster than thou,
Touching the stars with a shining brow,
Flickering up to the twinkling shades
Where the wild aurora flashes and fades,
Spreading its wings from east to west,
As an eagle that looks on a hawk in its nest
It hungereth over thy throne!
Father! my Father!’
The skies are troubled; the light burns low;
Yet stars still gather and gather.
‘Father! Father! awaken, awaken!
One bends above thee with bright hair shaken
Over thy throne like a falling flame;
One toucheth thy cheek and nameth thy name,
In a voice I hear, in a tone I know;
It is not Norna, it is not the snow,
By the face and the voice and the tone.
Vaster than these and vaster than thou,
Touching the stars with a shining brow,
Flickering up to the twinkling shades
Where the wild aurora flashes and fades,
Spreading its wings from east to west,
As an eagle that looks on a hawk in its nest
It hungereth over thy throne!
Father! my Father!’
‘He cannot hear—
Hide thy face, for the hour is near—
Hush!’ . . . .
Hide thy face, for the hour is near—
Hush!’ . . . .
. . . Who shrieks in the heart of the night? . . .
Terrible, desolate, dumb and blind,
Like a cloud snow-white
Struggling and rent in the claws o' the wind,
The Father hath risen with no sound
'Mid the wild winds wavering around,
And his stirring deepens the storm.
The ice is shaken beneath his tread,
The meteors burn around his head,
But faster, thicker, out of the skies,
Blotting his shape from Balder's eyes,
The wild flakes waver and swarm.
Now face to face in the blood-red gleam,
Like clouds in the sunset, like shapes in a dream,
Face to face, with outstretch'd hands
Like lightning forks that illume the lands,
Face to face, and sight to sight,
Like vulture and eagle fierce for fight,
They rise and they rise against the skies,—
Alfadur with his fiery eyes,
And the other vaster Form!
Terrible, desolate, dumb and blind,
Like a cloud snow-white
Struggling and rent in the claws o' the wind,
The Father hath risen with no sound
'Mid the wild winds wavering around,
And his stirring deepens the storm.
The ice is shaken beneath his tread,
The meteors burn around his head,
But faster, thicker, out of the skies,
Blotting his shape from Balder's eyes,
The wild flakes waver and swarm.
Now face to face in the blood-red gleam,
Like clouds in the sunset, like shapes in a dream,
Face to face, with outstretch'd hands
Like lightning forks that illume the lands,
Face to face, and sight to sight,
Like vulture and eagle fierce for fight,
They rise and they rise against the skies,—
Alfadur with his fiery eyes,
And the other vaster Form!
It is not Norna, but stranger and brighter,
It is not the snow, but wilder and whiter;
Ever greater yet it grows
Wrapt about with whirling snows,
Ever it dilateth on,
Till, a crimson Skeleton,
With his head against the sky
Where the pale lights flicker and die,
Strange, he stands, with orbs of fire
Looking down upon the Sire.
See, O see upon his brow
Strangest lustre liveth now,
On his neck and round his frame
Twines a snake of emerald flame. . . .
Death, O Death, can it be thou?
It is not the snow, but wilder and whiter;
Ever greater yet it grows
Wrapt about with whirling snows,
Ever it dilateth on,
Till, a crimson Skeleton,
With his head against the sky
Where the pale lights flicker and die,
Strange, he stands, with orbs of fire
Looking down upon the Sire.
See, O see upon his brow
Strangest lustre liveth now,
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Twines a snake of emerald flame. . . .
Death, O Death, can it be thou?
‘Father, father! I cannot see—
The heavens are bright, but the world is white,
The wings of the wan Form cover thee—
Around and around, with no sigh, with no sound,
Like the mists of a cloud, like the folds of a shroud,
They enwrap thee,—and hide thee from me!’
The heavens are bright, but the world is white,
The wings of the wan Form cover thee—
Around and around, with no sigh, with no sound,
Like the mists of a cloud, like the folds of a shroud,
They enwrap thee,—and hide thee from me!’
IX. ‘A Cross and a Lily.’
‘It is over! O Balder, look up and behold!’
‘Not yet, for I sicken—my sense shrinketh cold,
And I fear the strange silence that cometh at last!
All is hush'd—all is dead—the dew now is shed
Warm as tears on my hand, but the tempest hath pass'd,
And the sounds of the tempest are fled!’
And I fear the strange silence that cometh at last!
All is hush'd—all is dead—the dew now is shed
Warm as tears on my hand, but the tempest hath pass'd,
And the sounds of the tempest are fled!’
‘Arise!’
‘I am risen!
‘Behold!
‘All is white,
But the darkness hath gone, and the stars of the night,
And down from the north streams the dawn flowing free;
But I see not my Father!’
But the darkness hath gone, and the stars of the night,
And down from the north streams the dawn flowing free;
But I see not my Father!’
‘Again!
‘Woe is me!
His throne standeth there white and cold, and thereon
Sits another I know, as a King on a throne,
Yea, sceptred and crownëd . . . and vaster tenfold
He seems than the Spirit who sat there of old,
For his form 'gainst the heavens looms fiery and fair,
And the dew of the dawn burneth bright on his hair;
And we twain unto him are as birds in the night
That sit gazing up at a great snowy height
Where the starlight is coming and going like breath.’
His throne standeth there white and cold, and thereon
Sits another I know, as a King on a throne,
Yea, sceptred and crownëd . . . and vaster tenfold
He seems than the Spirit who sat there of old,
For his form 'gainst the heavens looms fiery and fair,
And the dew of the dawn burneth bright on his hair;
And we twain unto him are as birds in the night
That sit gazing up at a great snowy height
Where the starlight is coming and going like breath.’
‘So strange and so changed, yet 'tis he, even Death,—
Best and least, last and first. He hath conquer'd his own.
All gods are as sand round his feet tempest-blown,
And lesser yet greater, more weak yet more wise,
Are we who stand here looking up in his eyes.
All hail now to Death, since the great gods are dead!’
Best and least, last and first. He hath conquer'd his own.
All gods are as sand round his feet tempest-blown,
And lesser yet greater, more weak yet more wise,
Are we who stand here looking up in his eyes.
All hail now to Death, since the great gods are dead!’
‘Woe is me—it was written, and lo! it is read!’
‘Come together, and bless him!’
‘My Father?’
‘The same.
On his throne I will mark with a finger of flame
A cross and a lily for thee and for me!’
On his throne I will mark with a finger of flame
A cross and a lily for thee and for me!’
They pass o'er the ice, and a sound like the sea
Grows under their footprints; and softly they come
Where Death, with his eyes fix'd on heaven, sitteth dumb;
And they pause at his feet, while far o'er them he looms
With his brow 'mong the stars and the amethyst glooms,
Yea, they pause far beneath, and with finger divine
The white Christ hath made on the snow for a sign
The cross and the lily . . . then rising he stands,
And looketh at Death with uplifting of hands.
Grows under their footprints; and softly they come
Where Death, with his eyes fix'd on heaven, sitteth dumb;
And they pause at his feet, while far o'er them he looms
With his brow 'mong the stars and the amethyst glooms,
Yea, they pause far beneath, and with finger divine
The white Christ hath made on the snow for a sign
The cross and the lily . . . then rising he stands,
And looketh at Death with uplifting of hands.
Still as a star he shineth, brightly his eyes are burning,
White as a dove he seems in the morning's dewy breath,
Lifting again his face with a smile of loving and yearning,
He looketh gently up at the godlike shape of Death;
And the hair of Death is golden, the face of Death is glowing,
While softly around his form he folds his mighty wings,
And vast as the vast blue heavens the fair faint form is growing,
But the face that all men fear is bright with beautiful things.
Ev'n so the Brethren wait where the darkest snows are drifted,
Small as two doves that light in a wilderness alone,
While bright on the blood-red skies, with luminous head uplifted,
In a dream divine upgazing, Death sitteth upon his throne.
White as a dove he seems in the morning's dewy breath,
Lifting again his face with a smile of loving and yearning,
He looketh gently up at the godlike shape of Death;
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While softly around his form he folds his mighty wings,
And vast as the vast blue heavens the fair faint form is growing,
But the face that all men fear is bright with beautiful things.
Ev'n so the Brethren wait where the darkest snows are drifted,
Small as two doves that light in a wilderness alone,
While bright on the blood-red skies, with luminous head uplifted,
In a dream divine upgazing, Death sitteth upon his throne.
IX. THE LAST BLESSING.
I. The Waking of the Sea.
‘All that is beautiful shall abide,
All that is base shall die.’
Hark! birds are singing far and wide,
Under the summer sky. . . .
All that is base shall die.’
Hark! birds are singing far and wide,
Under the summer sky. . . .
Southward across the shining Bow
The blessed Brethren came;
They wore soft raiment of the snow
And sandals shod with flame.
The blessed Brethren came;
They wore soft raiment of the snow
And sandals shod with flame.
And golden lights and rippling rains
Were on the frozen sea,
The bergs were melting from their chains,
The waters flashing free.
Were on the frozen sea,
The bergs were melting from their chains,
The waters flashing free.
The white Christ lifted hands above
The silent wakening Deep,
And the unseen depths began to move
With motions soft as sleep.
The silent wakening Deep,
And the unseen depths began to move
With motions soft as sleep.
Then on an isle of ice he stept,
Leading his Brother mild,
And blest the waters as they slept,
And lo, they woke and smiled!
Leading his Brother mild,
And blest the waters as they slept,
And lo, they woke and smiled!
Around him on the melting sea
The glittering icebergs stirred,
And glimmer'd southward silently,
Like things that lived and heard.
The glittering icebergs stirred,
And glimmer'd southward silently,
Like things that lived and heard.
Then, like a ship on the still tide
That slowly leaveth land,
His own white isle began to glide
At lifting of his hand.
That slowly leaveth land,
His own white isle began to glide
At lifting of his hand.
Silently as a flock of sheep
The bergs stirred in the sun,
Shepherded gently down the Deep
By that immortal one.
The bergs stirred in the sun,
Shepherded gently down the Deep
By that immortal one.
For as he raised his snow-white hand,
They crept full softly by,—
Or paused and stood, as fair flocks stand
Under the shepherd's eye.
They crept full softly by,—
Or paused and stood, as fair flocks stand
Under the shepherd's eye.
Far, far away into the north
They stretch'd in legions white,
Trembling and changing, creeping forth
Out of a crimson light.
They stretch'd in legions white,
Trembling and changing, creeping forth
Out of a crimson light.
And all the colours of the Bow
Down their bright sides were shed;
Above the sky was gold; below,
The sea all rippling red!
Down their bright sides were shed;
Above the sky was gold; below,
The sea all rippling red!
II. From Death to Life.
Bright Balder at his brother's feet
Lay looking on the sea,
And sea-birds hover'd white and sweet
Around him, silently.
Lay looking on the sea,
And sea-birds hover'd white and sweet
Around him, silently.
And white bears crawl'd out of the Deep
To see him, and were blest;
And black seals with their young did creep
Upon the berg to rest.
To see him, and were blest;
And black seals with their young did creep
Upon the berg to rest.
Brighter and fairer all around
The kindling waters shone;
And softly, swiftly, with no sound,
The white flocks glided on.
The kindling waters shone;
And softly, swiftly, with no sound,
The white flocks glided on.
And far away on every side
The glittering ice-blink grew,—
Millions of bergs like ships that ride
Upon the waters blue.
The glittering ice-blink grew,—
Millions of bergs like ships that ride
Upon the waters blue.
O Balder, Balder, wherefore hide
Thy face from the blue sky!’
The voice was music, but it cried
Like any human cry.
Thy face from the blue sky!’
The voice was music, but it cried
Like any human cry.
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‘O Balder, Balder,’ the white Christ said,
‘Look up and answer me.’
Bright Balder raised his golden head,
Like sunrise on the sea.
‘Look up and answer me.’
Bright Balder raised his golden head,
Like sunrise on the sea.
‘O Brother, I was weeping then
For those whom Death o'erthrew.
Shall I, whose eyes have mourn'd for men,
Not mourn my brethren too?’
For those whom Death o'erthrew.
Shall I, whose eyes have mourn'd for men,
Not mourn my brethren too?’
The white Christ answer'd back, and cried,
Shining under the sky,
‘All that is beautiful shall abide,
All that is base shall die.
Shining under the sky,
‘All that is beautiful shall abide,
All that is base shall die.
‘And if among thy sleeping kin
One soul divine there be,
That soul shall walk the world and win
New life, with thee and me.
One soul divine there be,
That soul shall walk the world and win
New life, with thee and me.
‘Death shall not harm one holy hair,
Nor blind one face full sweet;
Death shall not mar what Love made fair;
Nay, Death shall kiss their feet!’
Nor blind one face full sweet;
Death shall not mar what Love made fair;
Nay, Death shall kiss their feet!’
Then Balder rose his heavenly height,
And clear as day smiled he;
His smile was bright as noonday light
Upon the sparkling sea.
And clear as day smiled he;
His smile was bright as noonday light
Upon the sparkling sea.
Turning his face unto the north,
He utter'd up a prayer,
He saw the great Bridge stretching forth,
But never a god walk'd there.
He utter'd up a prayer,
He saw the great Bridge stretching forth,
But never a god walk'd there.
He pray'd for those great gods o'erthrown
And cast in Death's eclipse,
He named the goddesses each one,
And blest them with his lips.
And cast in Death's eclipse,
He named the goddesses each one,
And blest them with his lips.
And lo! from bright'ning far-off lands
He saw glad spirits gleam,
Gazing to sea, and waving hands,
And singing in a dream;
He saw glad spirits gleam,
Gazing to sea, and waving hands,
And singing in a dream;
And far away where earth and air
Mingled their gentle lights,
There stood one marble form most fair
Upon the cloudless heights.
Mingled their gentle lights,
There stood one marble form most fair
Upon the cloudless heights.
Against the calm and stainless blue
It stood divinely dim,
And lo, his mother's form he knew,
And felt her eyes on him!
It stood divinely dim,
And lo, his mother's form he knew,
And felt her eyes on him!
Silent she paused, serene and crown'd,
Amid a summer sheen
And cataracts flash'd their lights around,
And woods grew dewy green.
Amid a summer sheen
And cataracts flash'd their lights around,
And woods grew dewy green.
Softly he sail'd beyond her sight
Upon the summer sea,
And once again with hands snow-white
He blest all things that be.
Upon the summer sea,
And once again with hands snow-white
He blest all things that be.
And brighter, brighter, as he blest,
The loosen'd Ocean grew,
And all the icebergs rock'd at rest
Upon the waters blue.
The loosen'd Ocean grew,
And all the icebergs rock'd at rest
Upon the waters blue.
Along the melting shores of earth
An emerald flame there ran,
Forest and field grew bright, and mirth
Gladden'd the flocks of Man.
An emerald flame there ran,
Forest and field grew bright, and mirth
Gladden'd the flocks of Man.
Then glory grew on earth and heaven,
Full glory of full day!
Then the bright rainbow's colours seven
On every iceberg lay!
Full glory of full day!
Then the bright rainbow's colours seven
On every iceberg lay!
In Balder's hand Christ placed his own,
And it was golden weather,
And on that berg as on a throne
The Brethren stood together!
And it was golden weather,
And on that berg as on a throne
The Brethren stood together!
And countless voices far and wide
Sang sweet beneath the sky—
‘All that is beautiful shall abide,
All that is base shall die!’
Sang sweet beneath the sky—
‘All that is beautiful shall abide,
All that is base shall die!’
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |