University of Virginia Library

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

‘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.

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!

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.’

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.

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.

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.