SELECTIONS IN ENGLISH POETRY
But neither god nor mortal heeds my pain.
Thou only, Balder, wast for ever kind,
To take my hand, and wipe my tears, and say • 765
Weep not, O Freya, weep no golden tears!
One day the wandering Oder will return,
Or thou will find him in thy faithful search
On some great road, or resting in an inn,
Or at a ford, or sleeping by a tree. 770
So Balder said;—but Oder, well I know,
My truant Oder I shall see no more
To the world's end; and Balder now is gone,
And I am left uncomforted in Heaven."
She spake; and all the Goddesses bewail'd. 7-3
"Last from among the Heroes one came near,
No God, but of the Hero-troop the chief—
Regner, who swept the northern sea with fleets,
And rul'd o'er Denmark and the heathy isles,
Living; but Ella captured him and slew;— 780
A king whose fame then fill'd the vast of Heaven,
Now time obscures it, and men's later deeds.
He last approach'd the corpse, and spake, and said: —
4'Balder, there yet are many Scalds in Heaven
Still left, and that chief Scald, thy brother Brage, 785
Whom we may bid to sing, though thou art gone.
And all these gladly, while we drink, we hear,
After the feast is done, in Odin's hall;
But they harp ever on one string, and wake
Remembrance in our soul of wars alone, 790
Such as on earth we valiantly have waged,
And blood, and ringing blows, and violent death.
But when thou sangest, Balder, thou didst strike
Another note, and, like a bird in spring,
The voice of joyance minded us, and youth, 795
And wife and children, and our ancient home.
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