Cornell University Library PR 4262.B17 1877 Balder the beautiful, a song of divine de 3 1924 013 445 527 Cornell University Library The original of tliis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013445527 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. BALDER THE BEAUTIEUL ^ ^aviQ at ^Wmt §tvA^ By ROBERT BUCHANAN w ©avarc iraidv ! "For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made aliye- - ■ • But some man will say, How are the dead raised up? and with what body do they come? Thov 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 .WILLIAM MULLAN & SON 34 PATERNOSTER ROW LONDON 4 DONEGAL PLACE BELFAST 1877 NOTET^ It may be well for readers of the following poem to dismiss from their minds all recollection of the "Eddas," Ewald's " Balder," Oehlenschlager's "Balder hiin 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 fhe good principle of Oehlenschlager, 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 mythologry : 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, how- . ever, 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. R. B. Printed by Hazell, Watson, and Vlney, London and Aylesbury. CONTENTS. PAGE Proem to : A Song of a Dream . . ix BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL: A SONG OF DIVINE DEATH. Book I. The Birth of Balder. 1. Balder's Birth-Song i 2. His Growth and Godhead i6 Book II. The Finding of Balder. 1 . Frea in the Wood . ... 25 2. The Shadow in the Wood . . . . 31 3. Full Godhead ... ... 44 4. The Man by the Ocean 53 Book III. The Heavenward Journey. 1. The Goddesses 63 2. The Fruit of Life .... .75 I'i COiVTENTS. PAGE 3. The City of the Gods . . .80 4. The Voice of the Father . 87 5. Balder's Return . 9° Book IV. Balder's Return to Earth. 1. " Balder is here " . 105 2. " Mid mountains white by rainbows spanned " 115 3. All things blest by Balder . 120 4. The Cry from the Ground 126 5. The Shadow on the Earth 130 6. On the Heights — Evening 135 7. The Vow of Balder . . 143 Book V. Balder's Quest for Death. 1. " He sought him on the mountains lone and bare " 147 2. ' ' Dawn purple on the peaks, and pouring in floods " 153 3. The Fight of Ships . -157 4. Ydun . . ..... 162 Book VI. Balder and Death. 1. The Altar of Sacrifice . 173 2. Balder and Death . 180 3. " O Death, pale Death " . 185 4. Death Sings . 185 5. " Then Balder lifted up his voice and cried " . iqj 6. The Last Prayer ... jp, 7. The First Snowflake — Falling of the Snow 202 CONTENTS. vii I'AGE Book VII. The Coming of the Ot'her. 1. Balder Dead .... . 211 2. The Light on the Snow . 214 3. The Face and the Voice 217 4. " Wake, Balder, wake " . 222 5. The Birth and Death . . . . 226 6. The Paracletes . . . 231 7. The Blessing of Death .... . 237 8. "But Balder moan'd, ' O beauteous Earth ' " . 243 Book VIII. The Twilight of the Gods. I. " Balder, Balder " .... .251 ■ 2. "And so those twain have passed across the night " 255 3. The Bridge of Ghosts . . . 259 4. ' ' Behold, I am risen '' . . 264 5. Alfadur ... . , 271 6. The Brethren . . 282 7. Father and Son . 290 8. Twilight . . . . 293 9. A Cross and a Lily . . . 298 Book IX. The Last Blessing. 1. The Waking of the Sea . . ... 305 2. From Death to Life . 308 PROEM TO' A SONG OF A DREAM. 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 bumeth 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 : 1 was bom 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 bhnd orbs blesseth me ; FRflEM. But the touch is softest, the eyes most bright. When I sit and smile by the side ef 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 these 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 ! 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. 1 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 ! PROEM. I 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. 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 ; 1 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. PROEM. 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 ! 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. 1 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 mom ? The moaning is that of the souls that go. The crying is that of the souls new-bom. 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 ! PROEM. 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 bum 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 j PROEM. 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 ! 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 bumeth bright in a starry sea. And the glory deepens a thousandfold As I name the immortal gods and thee ! PROEM. xV 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' er They set their shrines oflmte or fear. In Grecian woods, by hanks of Nile, Where cold snows sleep or roses smile. The gods are brethren. Zeus the Sire Was fashion' d of the selfsame 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 Tliey come, they go ; they are, or seem ; Each, rainbow' d frofn the rack of Time, Casts broken lights across God's Dream. THE BIRTH OF BALDER. I. THE BIR2H OF BALDER. I. BALDEKS 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 j BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. The blush from the blossom, The bloom from the corn, Blent into his bosom, Ere Balder was bom. 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. THE BIRTH OF BALDER. 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 6'erhead, — She saw not, — she heard not — But weary and worn. Snow-shrouded, she stirred not, Ere Balder was bom. There, hid from the Father, She brooded below. In realms where pines gather Ice-robed and ice-crown'd, BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. And the great trees were drooping, ' Struck down by the snow, With chilly arms stdoping 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 mom, — And she kindled and quicken'd, Ere Balder was bom. 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. THE BIRTH OF BALDER. 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 bom. Then the peace and the splendour Of powers of the night, And the strength that grows tender Where dusk rivers ran. 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 ; — BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. By the pangs of a woman The goddess was torn, Ere, with heart of the human, God Balder was bom. 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 AH 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 mom, To a sound as of singing Bright Balder was bom ! THE BIRTH OF BALDER. 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 in,to the pleasure Of beautiful eyes ; Like the aspen that linger? 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 bteast, BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 mom, And with bill of gold fluted That Balder was bom ! 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 moimtains Was melting away, And the sound of the fountains Upleaping was heard ; THE BIRTH OF BALDER. 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 bom ! 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, ^2 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. And the gold-speckled spider Found Frea that mom, And was busy beside her When Balder was bom. 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 bom. THE BIRTH OF BALDER. 13 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 bom. Then roar'd the mad thunder From regions afar, And the world darken'd under That wrath of the skies, 14 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. But the new-bom, upleaping As bright as a star, Awoke from his sleeping With love in his eyes ; — 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 mom, And past the storm drifted, For Balder was bom. ... 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 BIRTH OF BALDER. ij The lamb in the meadow Upsprings with no care, Deep in the wood's shadow Is bom the young bear ; The ash and the alder, ' The flowers and the com. All waited for Balder,— And Balder is bom ! 1 6 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. For in the time when violets grow, And birds sing thro' the showers, Pale Frea left her 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. Around her in those shadowy halls The great gbds darkly tread. THE BIRTH OF BALDER. 17 " 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. " The robin strew'd him o'er with leaves. 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 . . . But down within the forest dim The child divine lies quick ! The slanted sunlight comes to him Thro' branches woven thick; 1 8 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. Around him flock all gentle things 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 slowly hke an earthborn child 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, THE BIRTH OF BALDER. 19 And of their honey 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 ! And wheresoe'er he sets his feet 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. O look into his happy eyes, As lustrous as the dew ! A light like running water lies Within their depths of blue j BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. And there the white cloud's shadow dim 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. 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. A wild white shape with wondering eyes 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 ; THE BIRTH OF BALDER. 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. Quietly as a moonbeam creeps He moves from place to place ; Soft steals the starHght, as he sleeps, To breathe upon his face. The ground grows green beneath his feet, While, trembhng 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 seeds are sown ; O pale white lily of a god. Thou standest now full blown ! II. THE FINDING OF BALDER. 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 26 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. Before 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 oiled 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. THE FINDING OF BALDER. 27 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 ! ^^ BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. A space she paused, smiling and listening, Gazing upon the liHes 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 lihes and their leaves. And presently, approaching closer still. THE FINDING OF BALDER. 29 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, 30 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. THE FINDING OF BALDER. 31 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. " O Balder ! best beloved ! God of the sunlight and the summer stars, White Shepherd of the gentle beasts and birds. 32 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! THE FINDING OF BALDER. 33 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 inefiable, 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 Ulies feel Awakening and uprising mystically From darkness to the brightness of the air ; 34 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 sUvem moon I fade with closed 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 THE FINDING OF BALDER. 35 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 ! " Frea's cheek was blanch'd. And pressing one white hand upon her heart, 36 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. " 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." THE FINDING OF BALDER.- 37 He ceased ; and utter pity fiU'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 wh^-e 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 ! " 38 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. " O speak no more," The goddess said, " if aught else terrible Thine eyes have vision'd or thy sense hath dreatn'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 foUow'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, THE FINDING OF BALDER. 39 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 tny 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, 40 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. Fix'd on my face its fatal luminous eyes. O Mother, that wan shape ! The forest hold^ In form of beast or bird or glittering sna:ke, 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 THE FINDING OF BALDER. 41 With agony and despair, for now she knew That shape which Balder had beheld in dream Was he whom mortal men 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. 42 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 thrUl 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 ! THE FINDING OF BALDER. 43 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 ; llien, conscious of some presence that he feared, All swift and silent, like a startled snake. He faded back into the shadowy woods. 44 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 hmbs 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 FINDING OF BALDER. 45 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 ! 46 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. She murmurs, " They have cherish'd thee indeed, In answer to thy need. Ere thou wast bom, 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 tree-root 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 THE FINDING OF BALDER. 47 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." 48 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 teat 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 THE FINDING OF BALDER. 49 Gleams on the grass, and moths with fiery eyes FUt, and the night-jar cries, Doth Balder glimmer less divine. Ah, nay ! Dim things tha,t 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 j 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 4 54 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. Leaps by them, singing. Far away, on high, They mark against the sky Blue-shadow'd mountains crown'd with sparkUng 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 strearris ; with sound of rippling rain 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 THE FINDING OF BALDER. .51 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, " Balder ! 'tis the Ocean. Vast and strange, It changeth without change. 52 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL, 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. THE FINDING OF BALDER. 53 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! 54 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. He walks the weed-strewn strand, and where the waves Creep into granite caves, Green-paven, sUver-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 tlie blue. THE FINDING OF BALDER. 55 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 ocean-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 closed 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 walruss-bone, S6 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 bom, 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. THE FINDING OF BALDER. 57 " Hush ! " said the pallid goddess, sighing deep, " Lest he awake from sleep, And touch him not, lest from his mortal breath Thou knows't the taint of Death." " Death ! " Balder echoed with a quick sharp painj 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 j 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 58 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. " come ! " the goddess cried, and took his hand. Along the shining strand They pass'd, but evermore god Balder's face Tum'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 THE FINDING OF BALDER. 59 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 like these Gather as thick as bees : — Shapen like gods, yet perishable ; bom For ever night and mom, And night and mom for ever vanishing. An old dark doom doth cling Around them and all kindred things that bloom Out of the green world's woijib. 63 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. Heed them not thou I 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. III. IHE HEAVENWARD yOURNEY. I. THE GODDESSES. There is a valley by the northern sea, O'er-shadow'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 se" . 64 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. Into that valley by a secret way, The goddess guided her immortal son. Long had they wandefd, 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 walk'd 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 saffiron 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 THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 65 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 fringed 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. 66 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 stiU — 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 THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 67 Tall shape with mailed 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 bronzed 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 — 68 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. '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 white-robed 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 ! THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 69 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 ! 7o BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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-soiled 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, THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 71 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 stem 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, 72 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 73 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 haye died To dream of kissing. Then thro' Balder ran A new miraculous rapture such as feels The dark Earth when the scented Summer leaps FuU-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. 74 BALDER TBE BEAUTIFUL. All giving welcome. Some into his eyes Gazed in such awe as pallid virgins feel For some mysterious splendour masculuae 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, Or starlight, or the tremor of the dew. THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 7S '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;j" — 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, 76 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 77 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 / give thee ! see what gentle gift Thy sister Ydun brings thee : more divine Than life's sweet breath, or the fair flame of love." So 'saying, from her veiled breast she drew Mystical apples like to diamond seeds, So small to seeming that a score might lie 78 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. In the pink hollow of an infant's hand. Each shone complete and pure as mother-o'-pearl Touch'd with prismatic 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 THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 79 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. 8o BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 La 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 chiUer 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. THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 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 EVn 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. 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. 82 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. . . . 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 or the Gods !" 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 awfiil, 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. THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 83 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, Qy, "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 84 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. At last. When of that City little more remain'd Than splendour from its ashes fading slow. THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 85 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 j 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. 86 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. And Frea cried aloud, " Almighty gods ! 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. Then Frea cried to Balder, " Call again ! " And Balder, shining still most beautiful, 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. THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 87 IV. THE VOICE OF THE FA THER. Then Frea said, " Balder, best beloved. 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 ? " From the blacken'd ground Her voice sobbed answer, saying, " Even now His shadow is upon us. Pass thou on, 88 BALDER- THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 J;he earth. Till thou returnest." Shining hke 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 ! " As when the great seas roar Suck'd in thro' weedy rocks and under-caves 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." THE HEAVENWARD- JOURNEY. Silently, softly smiling, with no fear, Balder pass'd on ; and as one gropes his way Oceanward guided by the ocean's voice, He faded slowly forth into the night. 90 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 lis,ten'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. Silent she lay and hearken'd, till her soul THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 91 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. 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 ; 92 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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, THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 93 " Son, hast thou seen thy brethren?" and again, " Son, hast thou seen thy Father ?" Yet a space His Ups 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 94 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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, " AU 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 bom 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 THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 95 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 ! " 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 !" 96 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 97 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 s^w, 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, 7 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! " Then Frea cried, blessing and kissing Balder, " Go thou, — the green Earth loves thee, and thy face THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. 99 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 : T^hat in a later season love may come In answer, and the Father fear no more To seat thee 'mong Immortals at nis side. Go down, my child, my sunbeam, my best-born, 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 suppKant but a conqueror. And take thy throne !" 100 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. Then bright as day Grew Balder, while his face, composed to peace, Turn'd earthward; and he stretch'd out eager arms To that beloved land where he was bom. "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 , THE HEAVENWARD JOURNEY. ic 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. 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, io8 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. There is some divine trouble On earth and in air — BALDEKS RETURN TO EARTH. 107 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, io8 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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, B ALDER'S RETURN TO' EARTH. 109 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 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. He sits by a fountain Far up near the snow, BALDER'S RETURN TO EARTH. 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. 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 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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, BALDER'S RETURN TO EARTH. 113 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 : 114 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 paU, 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 ! BALDER'S RETURN TO EARTH. 115 II. 'Mid mountains white by rainbows spanned, 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. Down to those happy vales he drew 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 Ii6 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. Most silently he went and came, 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 nigh. 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 ! BALDER'S RETURN 70 EARTH: 117 His voice was in the lonely wood, 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. . . . 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. 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. He passed along the hamlets dim With twilight's breath of balm. Ii8 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! He came unto a hut forlorn As evening shadows fell, And saw the man among the com, 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 ! Then Balder passed into the night With soft and shining tread. The cataract called upon the height. The stars gleam'd overhead. BALDER S RETURN TO EARTH. 119 He raised his eyes to those cold skies Which he had left behind, — And saw the banners of the gods Blown black upon the wind. He watch'd them as they came and fled, Then his divine eyes fell. " I love the green Earth best,'Mie said, "And I on Earth will dwell ! " BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 Ueth, 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 B ALDER'S RETURN TO EARTH. i2i That redden'd inta 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. Then Balder said, " The Earth is fair, and fair, Yea fairer than the stormy lives of gods, !2 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 moonUght 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 sprLngeth beautiful Straight as a silvern hly from the ground, Wondrously blowing ; and they measure out Glad seasons by the pulses of the stars. 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, 1 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 BALDER'S RETURN TO EARTH. 123 Came out of heaven the bh'nd and desolate rain. But Balder gazing upward reach' d out arms And bless'd it as it fell j and lo, it grew Silvern and lovely as an old man's hair ! And scents came out of the rich-soiled earth, And all the boughs were glad and jewel-hung, Till very softly, very silently, The shower ceased, with kisses treftiulous 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 124 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 lifted 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. BALDER'S RETURN TO EARTH. 125 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. 126 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. But list ! O list ! what is that cry of pain, Faint as the far-oflf 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 ! The skies are still and calm, the seas asleep, In happy light the mortal millions creep, BALDER'S RETURN TO EARTH. 127 Yet listen, Balder ! — still they murmur deep, " Lo ! Death makes all things dark." [Oh, listen I 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, " 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.' " 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 toil not blest, is it not blest to be ? Tq climb the snows, to sail the surging sea. To build our saeters where our flocks roam free ? But Death makes all things dark. 128 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. " 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 ? 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. " 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. " He hunts 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 ! " Yea, when afar over our nets hang we. He walks unto us even on the sea ; BALDER'S RETURN TO EARTH. 129 The wind blows in his hair, the foam flies free O'er many a sinking bark t " 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.'" 13° BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. Evermore, Listening to nature's sad unceasing moan. Balder remember'd that pale haunting Shape Which he had seen in those primseval 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. B ALDER'S RETURN TO EARTH. 131 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 Slelted and changed, but evermore again It gather'd into dreadful lineaments, And passed with arms outre^ching 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, " Oods, 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, 132 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 mortal's 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, BALDER' S RETURN TO EARTH. 133 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. 134 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 winged 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. B ALDER'S RETURN TO EARTH. ' 135 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. Look. Balder. Girl. How I love thee ! Balder. And thy name ? 136 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. ' Girl. Snow-blossom. That is my mother standing at the door, Shading her face and gazing up the hOl. 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 BALDER' S RETURN TO EAI^TH. 137 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 138 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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, BALDER' S RETURN TO EARTH. .139 Both young and old. There is no spirit at all More strong than he ! Balder. Is he a god ? Girl. I know not. Balder. 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. 140 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. Balder. Aud 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'S RETURN TO EARTH. 141 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, 142 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 heigKt 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 Coftie near to trouble thee in thy repose ! Sleep like immortal raiment wrap thee round, To charm away the rayless eyes of Death ! BALDERS RETURN TO EARTH. 143 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 veiy 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. " 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 ! " 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. All round the deerfold on the shrouded height The starhght ghmmer'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. 148 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUI.. 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. 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. 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. 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. 'Twas Death ! 'twas gone ! — All night the shepherds sped, Searching the hills in fear ; BALDER' S QUEST FOR DEATH. 149 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. 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 ! " 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 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. i5o BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ; And on the tarns lay dim red dreams of day The midnight sun cast there, — Sunlight and moonlight blending in one ray Of mother-o' -pearl most fair. He wander'd down thro' woods that fringed the snows, 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 ! Ev'n as a vulture of the east it seem'd Brooding on something dead ; BALDER' S QUEST FOR DEATH. 151 Dark was the form on which its cold eyes gleam'd, And still and heavy as lead. 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 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. 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 ! His bearskin dress was bloody ; in his grip He clutch'd a cowherd's horn ; His eyes were glazed, and on his stained lip Death's kisses lay forlorn. 152 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. . . . Not resting yet, the bright god wander'd soon Down by the torrent's track ; And lo ! a sudden glory hid the moon, Ajid dawn rose at his back. B ALDER'S QUEST FOR DEATH. 153 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. 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. 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. Standing like marble bathed in liquid flame. Perfect of face and limb, 154 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. 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. 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. 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. BALDER'S QUEST FOR DEATH. 155 " 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 ! " 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. 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. 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 ! . . . 'Mid drifted foxglove-bells and leaves of green Uptorn and floating light. 156 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. Beside her, tangled 'mid the foxglove-bells, A shepherd's crook was cast, While softly on the water's 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. 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 ! B ALDERS QUEST FOR DEATH. 157 III. THE FIGHT OF SHIFS. Now Balder came across the great sea-shore, And saw far out upon the windless waves A fight of water-dragons fierce as fire, Winged 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 stained waters all around Men to the brain were cloven as they swam. Balder saw dimly, hovering on wings. 158 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 foUoweth 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, BALDER' S QUEST FOR DEATH. 159 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. 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 i6o BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. .... 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 thitlier, 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. BALDER' S QUEST FOR DEATH. i6i 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. 162 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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, knd 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. BALDER' S QUEST FOR DEA TH. 163 ... So walk'd he by the Ocean, till that gleam Far outupon 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 sea-snails 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 1 64 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! Ev'n then he heard a voice Cry " Balder ! " thrice, and turning he beheld Standing above him on the promontory BALDER S QUEST FOR DEATH. 165 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 tum'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 veiled 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 ajs thou ! " i66 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. And as she spake She drew the apples forth and proffer'd them To Balder's lips ; but on those hps 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-Hke 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, B ALDER'S QUEST FOR DEATH. 167 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 ! " But Balder wrung his hands and wail'd aloud 1 68' BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. _ In a sad human voice, " Not pity those i 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 ? 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. 1 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. balder: S QUEST FOR DEATH. 169 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." " O Ydun," Balder cried, " I have search'd the Earth, And have not found him, tho' my spirit pants 170 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. 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. VI. BALDER AND DEATH. 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 primasval 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 174 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 BALDER AND DEATH. 175 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 stretched 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 ciiing unto her, like a hawk 176 BALDER THE BEAVTIFUL. 3Vith 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 bij-ds BALDER AND DEATH. 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 fixed 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 humaji 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 n9,ked 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 fuU-orb'd moon ; by slow degrees its beams 12 177 178 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. Stole down the shrouded mountains, till they fell Prqne 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, ^nd 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. BALDER AND DEATH. 179 . . . 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. i8o BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. II. BALDER AND DEATH. " O Death, pale Death, thro' many a lonely land My feet have foUow'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. " 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. BALDER AND DEATH. i8i " 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. " 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. The phantom darken'd 'neath the clay-cold mooli 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 ! " Death answer'd not, but mystically bright His shadowy features grew. 1 82 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. " 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 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. " 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 ? " BALDER AND DEATH. 183 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 ? " 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. " 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. 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. And round the shadowy cheeks there softly swim Thin, threads of silken hair, 1 84 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. BALDER AND DEARTH. 185 III. "0 DEATH, PALE DEATH." " O Death ! pale Death ! Thy hair is golden, not gray — In the dark min-ors 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. " 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. " O gentle Death ! Speak, that mine ears may hear." Then like a fountain rose the voice of Death, Low, sweet, and clear ! t86 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. " For on mine eyes there falls a gleam, 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 ; " But ever,, ever if I turn And would my steps retrace. BALDER AND DEATH. 187 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. " 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. " Man marketh with his bitterest moan 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. 1 88 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. " I crouch beside the cradled child, 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. " Ah, little dream pale human things, 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. " I touch them softly with my hand, They turn as still as stone, BALDER AND DEATH. 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. " 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. " 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. " 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. igo BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. " 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." BALDER AND DEATH. 191 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. 192 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. " 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 BALDER AND DEATH. 193 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." 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 ! . . . And he pray'd. 13 194 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. VI. THE LAST PRA YER. " 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, Father, which art in heaven. Lord of men and master of Earth. BALDER AND DEATH. 195 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 emerald 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 ; 196 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! " 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 faihng cry, BALDER AND DEATH. 197 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. BALDER THE BEAUTIJ^UL. " 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 ! " 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. BALDER AND DEATH. 199 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 ! " Father in heaven, my heart is human, I cast a shade like a human thing, BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. BALDER AND DEATH, 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 ! " BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. . . . 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. BALDER AA[I> DEATH. 203 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 sofdy down, 204 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! " 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!" BALDER AND DEATH. 205 , . . 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. " 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 ! " 2o6 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. And Balder stirred his gentle head and smiled — Then drew one last long breath, and sank to sleep. 'Tis over now — the gods may gaze in peace — 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. 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 BALDER AND DEATH. 207 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 fixed as a rayless mask of ice. Crouch at his head, O Death I 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 ! VII. THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 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. 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. There were no stars, only that cheerless thing Treading the wintry round ; There was no light, save snow-flowers glimmering Without a sound. [2 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. Darkness of doom is shed on Balder's eyes, But whiteness shrouds the wold ; And stiU 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. 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. 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. 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. . . . THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 213 The hours creep an, the dreary days are shed, Measured by that slow teat ; And all the while god Balder lieth dead, Wrapt in his windihg- sheet. 214 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! 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. . . . 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. Small as a drop of dew, most dim to sight, . It glimmereth afar. . . . THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 215 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 ? 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 Dead 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. 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. . . . 2i6 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. O gentle Death, 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. O gentle Death, Hither it cometh slow ; — A Shadow creepeth with the same, O Death, From snow to snow. THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 217 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 ligh 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. 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 ! And in one hand a silvern lanthorn swings Fill'd with a crimson light, 2i8 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 pierced hands, O Death, And bloody pierced feet. Slowly he crawleth under the cold skies, His limbs trail heavy as lead, Pale fixed 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. . . . O who is this that walketh the wintry night, WitH naked hands and feet ! who is this that beareth a blood-red light. And weareth a winding-sheet ! THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 219 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 ? "Balder! Balder!" 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. O gentle Death, What voice is this that cries ? What sad shape stands with lifted hands Alone under the skies ? " Balder ! O Balder ! Answer me ! " ra BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! He comes now swifter than a bark 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 ! 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 ? THE COMING OF THE OTHER. : 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 ! And Death craMs moaning from his snowy seat To grasp his raiment hem, And toucheth with his mouth the pierced 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 lifts the lamp— and lo ! its red rays glance 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 ! 222 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. Wiapt 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. "Wake, Balder ! wake ! " the strange voice cried ; Dead Balder woke and heard, And tum'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, — THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 223 And lo ! upon his lips and hair A golden glimmer grew ! " O who art thou with blessed voice, AVho 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, Stretthing 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 ! " 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. 224 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. "And ever, as he wander*!! on, 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 ! " Death moans, and crouching on the snow 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. " Thou art mine elder Brother Most heavenly sad' and sweet, THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 225 Yet wherefore hast thou pierced hands And naked pierced 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 ? " 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.' IS 226 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. " Out of the dark Earth was I bom, 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 faU 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. THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 227 " For on their faces framed of clay, 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, " 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. " And sweet and low this answer came Out of the quiet sky — All that is beautiful shall abide, All that is base shall die I " Take thou thy cross and bear it well, And seek my servant Death : Thou too shall wither like a flower Before his bitterest breath. 228 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. " Yea, thou shalt slumber in his arms Three nights and days, and then. With that cold kiss upon thy lips, Awaken once again ! "And when thou wakeiiest at last Thy work is yet undone, For thou shalt roam the Earth, and seek Thy Brethren one by one f " Yea, one by one unto thy heart Thy kin shall gather' d be. Each pallid from the kiss of Death And beautiful like thee ! " " 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 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. THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 229 " But when my Father's voice again Came faint and low to me, I rose out of my grave, and saw Earth sleeping silently. " 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. " Then softly, with a happy smile, 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.' " But when my loving task was done. My soul took better cheer. And wandering thro' the world unseen I sought my Brethren dear. 230 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. " All in my robe of snowy white From realm to realm I trod, Seeking my Brethren who haa died, The golden Sons of God 1 " THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 231 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. " For past his feet the corpses drave 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. " Upon his brow he wore a crown, But his black feet were bare, 232 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. " 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. . . . " 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. " 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. THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 233 " And as he sang upon his cross, 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. . . . " 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. " There swift as lightning in the sun 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, — 234 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. And lo ! another gentle god Was sitting in a shrine ! " His skin en wrought, as if he lived, _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. . . . " I wander'd south, where rivers roU'd 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. THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 235 "Black was his skin as blackest night, 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 ! " 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. " 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. " Yet ever when I came, and spake The word and made the sign. 236 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. " With faces fair they rose and wrought 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 ! " THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 237 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. But paler, sadder, wearier, 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. " 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. 238 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. " For I remember as I wake . Mine old glad life of dream — The vision of the bridal Earth, The glory arid 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 beautiful were living men, Wandering to and fro, .With sun and moon and stars for lights. And flowers and leaves below. " But evermore this phaiitom Death 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, — THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 239 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 ? " 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 ! " And wherefore should my soul forget 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 ! 240 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. " 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." 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 ? " Who made the lightning's forked flame, Who thunder's blacken'd brand ? Who fashion'd Death, with fatal eyes, Chill breath, and clammy hand? " Death stirred and clung to Balder's feet 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, THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 241 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. And Christ cried, gazing down on Death, 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. " 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. 16 242 BALPER THE BEAUTIFUL. " 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 ! " 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. " But whosoe'er shall conquer Death, 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" The white Christ raised his shining face To that still bright'ning sky. " Only the beautiful shall abide. Only the base shall die ! " THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 243 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 ! " And beautiful were beast and bird, 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. " Behold, I live, and all is dark, 'And wasted is my pain, For glimmering at my feet I see The fatal eyes again. 244 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. " Why stays he here upon the Earth ? 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. 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 ! " 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. " There is no god of all thy kin Dare name that name aloud : THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 245 When his cold hand was on thy heart, 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 ! "Yet now for evermore fulfilled 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. " 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. 246 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. " Lo ! out of beauty cast away Another beauty grows ; What Death reaps in the fields of hfe 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 ; " And duly out of every doom 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 ! " O kiss me, Brother, on the mouth, Yea, kiss me thrice again ; THE COMING OF THE OTHER. 247 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^! " VIII. THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. VIII. THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. I. "Balder! Balder!" And Balder said, Turning round his gentle head, "I hear!" " And thou, my servant Death, Kneeling low with hushed breath. While my hand is on thy hair! " Death made answer, kneeling there, " I hear ! " " At last the cold snows cease. The white world is hush'd in peace, 252 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! " " 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 ; THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 253 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 Ught ; 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. 254 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! " THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 255 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 wonders of the cold untravell'd Waste Whereon their swift feet haste ! The night is troubled j 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 256 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 257 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 ; 17 258 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! " THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 259 JII. 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. Before them, on the northern sky- Rose -red and far withdrawn, Mingled with meteors of the night, 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. [There comes from off its heights a wind That blows for endless time, 26o BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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. Then hand in hand against the wind 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. 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. THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 261 The white Christ cried, " What lonely light 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." Far under, as they linger'd there, The dark deep waters roU'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. From stair to stair the brethren trod. And Death, crawl'd close behind, 262 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUt. 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. Down in the sullen sea below 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 FoUow'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 TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 263 Deep thunders shook the darken'd heaven, Wild Hghtning 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. " O Brother, hold me by the hand, For lo ! the hour is nigh ; — I see the shadows of the gods, Yonder upon the sky ! " 264 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. IV. "BEHOLD, T 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 winged 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 ! " And Balder replied, Feeling not seeing his face who cried, " I hear ! " THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 265 " And thou other who crouchest there, 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 ! " " 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. 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, 266 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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, THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 267 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 ! " 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 268 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. Bending their bodies as trees are bent, Rending their garment as clouds are rent, While overhead, with a thund'rous tread. The black heavens frown to traihple 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 aloud. 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 ! " THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 269 . . . 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 circle 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, 270 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. Tho' his throne is strangely shaken. Black is his throne, and he sits thereon Stil 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 ? " 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 ! " And Balder raising his hands, made moan, " Behold I am risen, mv Father ! " THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. zn 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 ! . . . . . . Blacker, blacker, the night is growing, Faster, faster, the snow is snowing — Silently looming thro' the storm, Towers the one gigantic Form, 272, BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. And all around with a trampet 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 ! " . . . " I am here, I am here ! " THE l-WILIGHT OF THE GODS. 273 . r The cry went up to the godhead drear, ^ike the cry of a lamb in the midst of the snow, Vhen the voices of tempest have sobbed their fill. And the clouds are still ■"or a little space, and the winds lie low., Then rose in answer a wail so loud t roU'd as thunder from cloud to cloud, ^nd the gods arose in a winged crowd, ^s oft 'mid desolate mountain-peaks, Vith clangour of wings and hungry shrieks. Great flocks of eagles gather. Tearing asunder their frozen mail, Jmiting 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 ; i\.s wild clouds scatter'd across the sky, rhey wing'd their way wiith a thunder-cry. . . . 274 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. But moveless there, when the rest had flown, The Father sat on his silent throne. Dreary, desolate, all alone, In the midst of his white dominions. " Balder ! Balder ! " " He looks on me ! 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 ! " . . . " 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, THE TWILIGHT OF THE CODS. 275 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 ! " " Now hold my hand — 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, 276 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 wind-blown 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 ! " " r see tHee not — Only a gleam on a darkerid spot^ And the ray of the light in thy hand! " THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 277 " Ay me, No light I carry that thou mayst see. What wouldst thou, Father ? " " Why hast thou risen 1 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 nevermore would thy beauty blight The spirit of Me thy Father P' Then answer'd Balder, " O Father dear, 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 Mended of star and flower. For thine earthly love, for thy heavenly dower; For the rune that was written, the rune that was read, We cursed thee all, bid our curse was said Deepest and best when we read that rune ,By thy love for men /" 278 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ? " " 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." THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 279 But Balder answereth back and saith, " Why hatest thou me ? " " For this the most I 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 1 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 heapens of pitiless air. Where nevermore with a human care That face of thine May trouble the eyes of the gods divine ! Out 'mong the winged stars, deep down the dark abysses. Beyond the black tomb's bars, far from the green Earth's kisses. 28o BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. As dust thou shalt be cast, as snow thou shalt be drifiea 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, o: lambs o' the meadow ; Call on the moonlight now that Mingled in thy making To heaven uplift thy brow, where the pale spheres ar waking ; On water, air, and fire, on snow and on wind and a forest, Call with a wild desire, now when thy need is sorest / Call now 071 fiower or bird to fill the plight they gaz thee I Call, let thy voice be heard, and see if Earth can sav thee I " 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, THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 281 And the fout 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 ! 282 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 i 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 ? THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 2S3 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 shroud 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. 284 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! " THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 285 "0 Father, I listen!" " What shape is this whose sad eyes glisten Bright as the lamp he is uplifting 1 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 2 " " 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 ; 286 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 ! 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. THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 287 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 I Come, come, O Death! I call on thee— come hither, fleeter, faster 1 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 tor- rent water ! Come thou this niglit, Death divine, come quickly or come never. And the great Earth shall all be thine for ever and for e7.>er !" The 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. 288 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. 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 I" 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 !" . . . THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 289 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 f 19 290 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. VII. FATHER AND SON. Now hark, one crieth ! " My servant Death, Kneeling there with hushed 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, THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 291 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 I 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 fixed Face Veil'd with the flakes still falling. 292 BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL. "vith the touch of a master. The glowing beauty of the South shines and flames in the earUer part of the poem ; the graver charm of the North is reflected in such exquisite verses as those descriptive of Drowsietown. Some of the lyrics are extremely beautiful, and stray gleams of a sad and kindly humour contrast not inharmoniously with the passitin and the sorrow. In some respects the poem might be called sensuous ; but it is only sensuous as nature is, and though it draws no formal moral, it includes one, as all noble, affectionate and sympathetic work is sure to do." — Daily NeTvs. *' A mastery of rich, varied, musical verse ; an extraordinary command of descriptive power ; capacity of constructing a dramatic plot ; and lastly for delineating human character in its humorous and pathetic aspects alike, broad, subtle, swift, and penetrating. . . . The subtle mingling of moral and physical contrasts is admirably worked out. . . . Almost perfect description. . . . The author of ' White Rose and Red ' has written a fine dramatic poem ; his powers of humour, observation, construction, and character-painting ojight to give him, if he pleased, a distinguished place as a writer of prose fiction." —Pall Mall Gazette. *' It shows so great an imaginative power, not merely for Pamiing- nature in her most beautiful and grandest forms, but for penetrating these poems with vivifying conceptions, that it will secure for itself a permanent name, and a long succession of readers. . . . It is a poem to keep and read repeatedly, not a poem of which the erqoytnent can be exhausted in one or two perusals." — Spectator. **'St. Abe' was really a remarkable production, thoroughly original in every point of view. And * White Rose and Red ' is also no imitation. Its great characteristic is the author's passionate love for nature. He is no town poet ; he loves the backwoods. Here, for instance, is a Bird Chorus, such as has not been heard in literature since the days of Aristophanes. . . . His poetry is utterly unlike anything to which we have been accustomed. He is the first poet, too, who has really done Winter justice. The first canto of the Great Snow is one of the finest in the poem. . . . Thus the poet introduces us to one of the most vivid scenes — a storm in the backwoods — we have ever read. . , . What Thoreau has so worthily done for us in prose in * Walden,' the author of ' White Rose and Red ' has also equally well done in poetry. Each has opened up for us a new world for hesMty.'^^ Westminster Review. *' Grim tragi-comedy ! The metres are sparkling and facile, and the poet's humour plays like a lambent flame over all. There is a good deal of Chaucer, Burns, and Byron here ; yet the poem is thoroughly original — queer, sensuous, tender, serious, wonderful, like life !" — Gentletnan's Magazine. "■ One of the most remarkable poems issued for a long period. It has all the gorgeous colour of Titian, with the breadth of Rembrandt. . . . Never was anything more beautifully and accurately realized. . . . The poem is great— great'in truthfulness, in conception, and in elaboration. The matter, however, in which we are most concerned is that though its authorship has not been acknowledged, there are traces of workmanship about it which point to Mr. Buchanan as its author. . . . Besides Tennyson and Browning, there is no other person whose work we could consider it to be, and there are insuperable obst^les which would immediately forbid us to ■ associate it with the Poet Laureate or the author of * Pippa Passes. ' " — Contemporary Review. Fourth and enlarged Edition^ ^s. With Frontispiece by the late A. B. Houghton. ST. ABE: SL Cale of ^alt %^\z Citp» "Amazingly clever." — Nonconfomtist. "Would* that in England we had humorists who could write as Well ! But with Thackeray our last writer of humour left us." — Temple Bar. *' Fresh and salt as the sea. The work is masterly." — Graphic. London : DALDY, ISBISTER, & CO., 56, Ludgate Hill. MR. BUCHANAN'S PROSE ROMANCE. Now ready at all libraries, in 3 vols., THE THIRD EDITION OF THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD: a Romance. By ROBERT BUCHANAN. SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. " The * Shadow of the Sword ' is a prose poem in idea as well as expres- sion, a wistful appeal to the Prince of Peace, who seemed still to sleep in His tomb in the garden and delay His coming . . . The main conception of Mr. Buchanan's poem is novel, in the opposition of indignant and resolute reason to this iron will and its crushing machinery. The scenes are laid in the wilder districts of * La Bretayne Bretonnante.* A simple fisherman, Rohan Gwenfern, refuses to obey the behests of the tyrant. Partly enlight- ened by the teachings of an erratic missionary, who escapes the consequences of his opinions by passing with the people for half-mad, Rohan has long been cherishing a profound resentment against this system that is bereaving ■all the households about him. . . It is the central conception ot Rohan Gwenfern that makes the book a poem rather than a novej. The novel, as we understand it, professes to reproduce actual life, without indulging too far in ideal possibilities. Now Rohan Gwenfern is legitimate and even admirable as an ideal ^eation, . . . We may give the highest praise to the rest of the book in pomt both of scenery and characters. . . . Next to his iisherman hero, Mr. Buchanan, as is fitting, has bestowed most pains on the portraiture of the Emperor. Not that, except on rare occasions, we ever see the deity of battle very near. For the most part he hovers on the lurid horizon of the story, as the giant Providence that casts the shadow ot the sword, and we have vaguely to imagine the shape and features through the smoke and bloody haze of the battle-field. . . . Buonaparte was the incar- nation of the war spirit in the most baneful shape of a deliberate frenzy ; nor is Mr. Buchanan by any means sparing of the eloquence of unmeasured, denunciation. Yet the romantic soul of the poet cannot always resist the spell of the hero, criminal and even base as the hero may have often been. So he makes the itinerant jareacher, ArfoU, involuntarily submit to that ascendancy in a pathetic description he gives of the adieux of Fontainebleau^ . . . The storw.is told with force and fire ; and if you open it at random, after having read it through, there is scarcely a chapter that will not repay a second perusal." — Tke Times. "The production of a first prose romance by Mr. Robert Buchanan is a literary evenf of some consequence. He has called the ' Shadow of the Sword a romance, and rightly, for his incidents and his hero are inten- tionally idealised out of the region of plain prose. ... As a whole, there are few more fascinating romances, even in history itself, than the single-handed struggle of the obscure Breton peasant, Rohan Gwenfern, against the whole Napoleonic idea : its armies, its prestige, its victories, its glory, the fanati- cism of all France, and the personality of the Emperor, which Mr. Buchanan represents as the deepest and widest influence of all. ... It is in eflfect a tragedy after the Greek, where omnipotent destiny is one hero and one help- less man the other. ... In our opinion, nothing in the whole novel is equal in charm to its introduction — the opening love scene between Rohan and Marcelle : an exquisite poem in itself, which draws a bitter pathos from the tragedy, which we know is to overshadow all before long. Mr. Buchanan f)robably, and with good cause, stakes his novel upon the struggle of one onely, hunted man on an island of nightmares, with his whole world against him. . . . Even artistic faults cannot destroy the splendid effect of his con- ception as a whole, and of the manner in which he has developed it. To repeat with greater emphasis what we have already said, the Shadow of the Sword ' is a book to extort admiration and to fascinate the most critical readers." — The Globe. "Without being told that the leading character in this strange story is taken from life, and that many of the extraordinary incidents related in it actually occurred as described, we might almost have imagined such to be the case from the extraordinary realism of the narrative. The story is told with extraordinary force and vigour, and gains a wonderful hold upon the imagination of the reader, and it is powerfully aided by the rugged pictur- esqueness of its whole surroundings. , . . In nothing does Mr. Buchanan show moce skill than in his portrayal of the glamour which surrounded the very name of Napoleon. . , . The record of Rohan's hunted life in the cave of St. Gildas is given with great power, and the death of the poor goat Yannedik, a better Christian than many of those of the two-legged kind, is almost too pathetic. . . . The affair of the inundation is really grand. Nothing can be sweeter, too, than the character of Marcelle. . . . The book is full of pictures of extraordinary force and beauty ; the writer, thoroughly imbued with his subject, touches it at once with the skill of the poet and of the painter, arid his book will be read and read again and again by all who can recognize and appreciate a true insight into and communion with the mysteries of man and of nature, joined to a power of description which it is given to few indeed to possess." — Morning Post. "A Quaker does not seem, at first sight, a very likely hero for a poetical romance, and yet Mr. Robert Buchanan has made an interesting and curious story out of the adventures of his Rohan Gwenfern. . . . Here we have a struggle agfainst society, a hopeless struggle of one man, at least as desperate as any of the colossal conflicts in M. Hugo's romances. Rohan is much more than the mere hater of war and tyranny ■ he has all the Celt's delight in solitude and in the sea ; all the Celt's petyerse courage on the side of for- lorn and impossible causes; much of the Celt's visionary quality," — Pedl Mall Gazette. "Mr. Buchanan is a poet, and this romance may be to some extent regarded as a prose poem. The pictures with which the story abounds are bright with the fancy that finds its most natural expression in verse ; the colouring is that of a poetical artist, and the weird-like imagination which throws its lurid light upon one page, and the blackness of a great cloud upon another, is that of a man who has seen visions and dreamt Yearns. . . . Mr. Buchanan is never so impressive, and never carries the reader along with him so readily, as when he feels the salt spray upon his cheeks, and hears the thunder of the waves, as they burst upon the cliffs, or rush into secret caverns. The charm of the romance before us is due, we think, mainly to the profound love of nature which pervades it. . . . This bare outline may induce our readers to turn to its pages. They will not be disappointed, if they are willing for a season to exchange the realism of modern fiction for the poetical conceptions, the exciting incidents, the strong passions, and glowing fancy that belong to high romance." — Spectator. Mr. Robert Buchanan has made an exceedingly important contribution to recent Hterature in the * Shadow of the Sword.' . . . The character of Rohan Gwenfern is most powerfully and consistently drawn. A hater of war at a time when martial glory was the vital essence of a Frenchman, loathing Napoleon when by the common people he was looked up to as more than samt, he refuses to present himself for conscription, and flees for his life from cave to cave of the rocks. It is artistically described ho^ even then he can- not escape from the shedding of blood, of whicl} he has sucha horror, and the memory of this, in conjunction with his privations extending over many months, reduces him, when at last his wanderings are over and peace comes to France with the detention of the Emperor at St. Helena, almost to the level of a harmless madman. Quite as graphically drawn is the patient tenderness of Marcelle. . . . Best of all is Uncle Ewen, in whom breathed all the spirit of the Old Guard, and to whom a belief in the ' Little Corporal ' was almost life. . . . The report of the victory of Ligny is the last news that reaches him, and he dies with a shout of ' Vive VErnpereur' on his lips. . . . The story is full of dramatic points." — Academy. " The finest descriptive writing of which any Eng;lish writer is capable, . . . A romance pervaded by a certain atmosphere of weird and elevating meaning and purpose. This, however, is not inconsistent with the revelation of real types of character, which are brought out all the more powerfully by the background of mystic suggestion on which they move. ... A semi-mystical, symbolic, or romantic medium, charged with weird and visionary hints of the tragical powers that lie sealed in (trivial events and in trivial persons as affecting the larger movements of human destiny. ... In a word, Mr, Buchanan has given us a romantic Epic of the Napoleonic period. It was a bold and a trying theme ; but he has adequately treated it, and has worked it up to a close truly grand and touching." — Nonconformist. *' Mr. Buchanan has essayed in this novel a task that strikingly proves, - and partially justifies, his belief in his own powers. Rohan Gwenfern is a coward, a deserter, and a murderer.' It is Mr. Buchanan's thesis to show that he is a 'hero and a martyr.' The panic-stricken cur, when drawn for the conscription, is paralysed with fear. Yet his terror, which has in it nothing that is not merely selfish and base, suffices, as Mr. Buchanan would have us believe, to be the instniment of the downfall of the great Napoleon, and to make the dead Christ rise, from his grave. ... We are bound to say that the key-note of power struck in the verses which serve as a prologue to the prose, is on the whole, maintained throughout." — IVorld. *' The study of a conflict between anarchy represented by individual des- potism ; and individual conscience in revolt. . . . Herein is set forth the struggle between a human soul morbidly sensitive to the responsibility of shedding blood and the soul of a man who looked on hecatombs of slain as no more than necessary landmarks to the limits of his own sovereignty or the sovereignty of the people whom he governed. The author does not regard the question in a narrow light, but in the full and open day of the Christian principle of charity. ... In the 'Shadow of the Sword' it is possible to bring both the victim and the wielder before a judge ; and both are confronted, a trial proceeds, and an informal verdict is recorded. Thus, we venture to think that Mr. Buchanan has done a good deal more than he claims, and that his book is not merely a subjective examination of the Shadow, but moreover an objective denouncement of the Sword. . . . From what we have said, it must not be for a moment supposed that Mr. Buchanan's romance is a dry, political essay. On the contrary, it is excessively picturesque and powerfully dramatic. The characters are not idle phantoms, but substantial facts ; the style is perspicacious, vigorous, and, as a poet's style should be, full of marvellously chosen epithets — reading it is like galloping over fields of flowers. "—KwttT^. "We cannot help wishing that the sweet, sad story of Rohan Gwenfern had been told in verse ; yet even verse could hardly'have been sweeter than the delicately cadenced prose in which it is written. , . . Could the prettiest of rhymed stanzas be much prettier than that in which we are told how the two cousins first discovered that their love was not that of brother and sister ? We are no blind admirers of the author of the * Shadow of the Sword ; ' but we are bound to say that in these volumes he has taught a lesson to his , brother, and above all to his sister, novelists, which we wish they would learn. The lesson is, that nothing is more pure and modest than a really strong passion." —Sia?idard. "A work, we think, that no one but a poet could have written. Its strength and attraction lie in the depth of the author's feeling for nature, especially for nature in her wilder and weirder aspects, as she shows herself in 'the melancholy ocean,' and the awful cliffs and gloomy caverns of a stormy and solitary coast. Mr. Buchanan undoubtedly possesses in a high degree the Celtic turn for what Mr. Matthew Arnold terms ' natural magic,' the turn for ' catching and rendering the charm of nature in a wonderfully new and vivid way.' The scene of the story is laid at Kromlaix, ' in the loneliest and saddest corner of the Breton coast,' and the sea and the crags form an abiding backgjround to the picture here shown to us which we are never allowed to lose sight of for long together. ... A really fine and powerful romance, to whose many beauties in the way of picturesque description we regret our space will not allow us to do justice." — Graphic. " Mr. Buchanan has woven a weird and striking romance out of materials that seemed too painful, and concerning a period that one might fancy was as yet too near for completely successful treatment after the manner he has adopted. . . . No hasty summary can give any idea of the depth of meaning and the power of this book. Mr. Buchanan has managed, with the utmost skill, to maintain romantic colour and charm, by the place which he gives to legend., and by the fine appreciation he shows for the fanciful and superstitious character of the people, and yet many of his portraitures are as real as though there were no element of romance in the story. The humour and the un- affected pathos of some parts is in our opinion simply masterly. Throughout the book abounds in powerful picturesque passages, is full of weird romantic touches, presents character with great force and truth, and may be regarded as a most successful experiment in a field which has not been much, if at ail, ventured upon in this country." — British Quarierly Review. "Whether we want learned novels or not, we have not far to look for the works of authors whose culture abundantly shows itself through their writing. Mr. Robert Buchanan has a field to himself. It is surely a matter for con- gratulation that a writer of his mark ventures into the territory of fiction at all." — Contemjiorary Review. A Fourth and Cheaper Edition, with a new Preface, IN Preparation. RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON ST. publishers-in-ordinary to her majesty.