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He spake; but Balder answerd him, , " Far to the south, beyond the blue, and said:

there spreaus " Journ not for me! Journ, Herinod, Another Heaven, the boundless-no one for the Gods ;

yet Mourn for the men on earth, the Gods Hath reach'd it ; there hereafter shall in Heaven,

arise Who live, and with their eyes shall see The second Asgard, with another name. that day!

Thither, when o'er this present earth The day will come, when fall shall As

and Hearens gard's towers,

The tempest of the latter days hath And Odin, and his sons, the seed of

swept, Heaven;

And they from sight have disappeari, But what were I, to save them in that

and sunk, hour?

Shall a small remnant of the Gods reIf strength might save them, could not pair; Odin save,

Hoder and I shall join them from the Jly father, and his pride, the warrior

grave. Thor.

There re-assembling we shall see emerge Vidar the silent, the impetuous Tyr? From the bright Ocean at our feet an I, what were 1, when these can poughit

earth avail?

More fresh, more verdant than the last, Yet, doubtless, when the day of battle

with fruits comes,

Self-springing, and a seed of man preAnd the two hosts are marshall'd, and

served, in Heaven

Who then shall live in peace, as now in The golden-crested cock shall sound

war. aların,

But we in Heaven shall find again with And his black brother-bird from hence

joy reply,

The ruin'd palaces of Odin, seats And bucklers clash, and spears begin to Familiar, halls where we have suppd of pour

old; Longing will stir within my breast, Re-enter them with wonder, never fill though rain.

Our eyes with gazing, and rebuild with But not to me so grievous, as, I know,

tears. To other Gods it were, is my enforced And we shall tread once more the wellAbsence from fields where I could noth

known plain ing aid;

Of Ida, and among the grass shall find For Iam long since weary of your storm The golden dice wherewith we play'd of Of carnage, and find, Hermod, in your

yore ; life

And that will bring to mind the former Something too much of war and broils,

life which make

And pastime of the Goals, the wise disLife one perpetual fight, a bath of blood.

course Mine eres are dizzy with the arrowy Of Odin, the delights of other days. hail;

O Hermod, pray that thou may'st join Yine ears are stunnd with blows, and

us then ! sick for calm.

Such for the future is my hope ; meanInactive therefore let me lie, in gloom,

while, Cnarm’d, inglorious ; I attend the course I rest the thrall of Hela, and endure Of ages, and my late return to light, Death, and the gloom which round me In times less alien to a spirit mild.

even now In new-recover'd seats, the happier day.” Thickens, and to its inner gulf recalls. He spake; and the fleet Hermod thus Farewell, for longer speech is not alreplied :

low'd!” · Brother, what seats are these, what He spoke, and waved farewell, and happier day?

gave his hand Tell me, that I may ponder it when To Nanna ; and she gave their brother gone."

[him :-
blind

(the three And the ray-crowned Balder answer'd Her hand, in turn, for guidance; and

And not to offend thee, Hermod, nor to

force My hated converse on thee, came I up From the deep gloom, where I will now

return; But earnestly I long'd to hover near, Not too far off, when that thou camest by; To feel the presence of a brother God, And hear the passage of a horse of

Heaven, For the last time-for here thou com'st

no more.

He spake, and turn'd to go to the inner

gloom. But Hermod stay'd him with mild words,

and said: • Thou doest well to chide me, Hoder

blind ! Truly thou say'st, the planning guilty

mind Was Lok's; the unwitting hand alone

was thine. But Gods are like the sons of men in

this When they have woe, they blame the

nearest cause. Howbeit stay, and be appeased ! and

tell : Sits Balder still in pomp by Hela's siile, Or is he mingled with the umnumber'd

dead ? " And the blind Hoder answer'd him

and spake :“ His place of state remains by Hela's

side, But empty ; for his wife, for Nanna Lately below, and join il him ; and the

pair Frequent the still recesses of the realın Of Hela, and hold converse undisturb’d. But they too, doubtless, will have

breathed the balm, Which floats before a visitant from

Heaven, And have drawn upward to this verge of

Hell.” He spake ; and, as he ceased, a puff

of wind Roll'd heavily the leaden mist aside Round where they stood, and they be

held two forms Make toward them o'er the stretching

cloudy plain. And Hermod straight perceived them,

Lok triumphs still, and Hela keeps her

prey. No more to Asgard shalt thou come, nor

lodge In thy own house, Breidablik, nor enjor The love all bear toward thee, nor train

up Forset, thy son, to be beloved like thee. Here must thou lie, and wait an endless

age. Therefore for the last time, O Balder,

hail!" He spake; and Balder answer'd him.

and said : * Hail and farewell! for here thou

com'st no more. Yet mourn not for me, Hermod, when

thou sitt'st In Heaven, nor let the other Gols

lament, As wholly to be pitied, quite forlorn. For Nanna hath rejoin'd me, who, of old, In Heaven, was seldom parted from my

side; And still the acceptance follows me,

which crown'd My former life, and cheers me even here. The iron frown of Hela is relax'd When I draw nigh, and the wan tribes

of dead Love me, and gladly bring for my awari Their ineffectual feuds aud feeble haterShadows of hates, but they distres

them still." And the fleet-footed Hermod made

reply :-“ Thou hast then all the solace death

allows, Esteem and function ; and so far is well. Yet here thou liest, Balder, underground Rusting for ever; and the years roll 01, The generations pass, the ages grow. And bring us nearer to the final day When from the south shall march thi

fiery band And cross the bridge of Heaven, with

Lok for guide, And Fenris at his heel with broken

chain ; While from the east the giant Rymer

steers His ship, and the great serpent makes to

land ; And all are marshall'd in one flaming

square Against the Gods, upon the plains of

Heaven, I mourn thee, that thou canst not help

who they were Balder and Nanna ; and to Balder said :“ Balder, too truly thou foresaw'sta

snare!

us then."

came

He spake; but Balder answer'd him,

and said :* Journ not for me! Mourn, Hermod,

for the Gods ; Mourn for the men on earth, the Gods

in Heaven, Who live, and with their eyes shall see

that day! The day will come, when fall shall As

gard's towers, And Odin, and his sons, the seed of

Heaven; But what were I, to save them in that

hour ? If strength might save them, could not

Odin save, Jy father, and his pride, the warrior

Thor, Vidar the silent, the impetuous Tyr? 1, what were I, when these can nought

avail? Yet, doubtless, when the day of battle

comes, And the two hosts are marshalld, and

in Heaven The golden-crested cock shall sound

alarm, And bis black brother-bird from hence

reply, And bucklers clash, and spears begin to

pourLonging will stir within my breast,

though rain. But not to me so grievous, as, I know, To other Gods it were, is my enforced Absence from fields where I could noth

ing aid; For I am long since weary of your storm Of carnage, and find, Hermod, in your

life Something too much of war and broils,

which make Life one perpetual fight. a bath of blood. Jline eyes are dizzy with the rrowy

hail; Mine ears are stunn'd with blows, and

sick for calm. Inactive therefore let me lie, in gloom, Cnarm’d, inglorious ; I attend the course Of ages, and my late return to light, In times less alien to a spirit mild. In new-recover'd seats, the happier day." He spake ; and the fleet Hermod thus

replied: · Brother, what seats are these, what

happier day? Tell me, that I may ponder it when gone."

[him : And the ray-crowned Balder answerd

• Far to the south, beyond the blue,

there spreads Another Heaven, the boundless--no one

yet Hath reach'd it ; there hereafter shall

arise The second Asgard, with another name. Thither, when o'er this present earth

and Heavens The tempest of the latter days hath

swept, And they from sight have disappear`d,

and sunk, Shall a small remnant of the Gods re

pair ; Hoder and I shall join them from the

grave. There re-assembling we shall see emerge From the bright Ocean at our feet an

earth More fresh, more verdant than the last,

with fruits Self-springing, and a seed of man pre

served, Who then shall live in peace, as now in

war. But we in Heaven shall find again with

joy The ruin'd palaces of Odin, seats Familiar, halls where we have supp'd of

old ; Re-enter them with wonder, never fill Our eyes with gazing, and rebuild with

tears. And we shall tread once more the well

known plain Of Ida, and among the grass shall find The golden dice wherewith we play'd of

yore ; And that will bring to mind the former

life And pastime of the Gods, the wise dis

course Of Odin, the delights of other days. O Hermod, pray that thou may’st join

us then ! Such for the future is my hope ; mean

while, I rest the thrall of Hela, anil endure Death, and the gloom which round me

even now Thickens, and to its inner gulf recalls. Farewell, for longer speech is not al

lowd!” He spoke, and waved farewell, and

gave his hand To Nanna ; and she gave their brother blind

[the three Her hand, in turn, for guidance; and

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Look! through the showery twilight

gray What pointed roofs are these advance ?A palace of the Kings of France ? Approach, for what we seek is here! Alight, and sparely sup, and wait For rest in this outbuilding near ; Then cross the sward and reach that

gate. Knock; pass the wicket! Thou art

come

Departed o'er the cloudy plain, and soon Faded from sight into the interior gloom. But Hermod stood beside his drooping

horse, Mute, gazing after them in tears; and

fain, Fain had he follow'd their receding steps, Though they to death were bound, and

he to Heaven, Then; but a power he could not break

withheld. And as a stork which idle boys have

trappd, And tied him in a yard, at autumn sees Flocks of his kind pass flying o'er his

head To warmer lands, and coasts that keep

the sun :He strains to join their flight, and from

his shed Follows them with a long complaining

crySo Hermod gazed, and yearn'd to join

his kin.

To the Carthusians' world-famed home.

The silent courts, where night and day
Into their stone-carved basins cold
The splashing icy fountains play-
The humid corridors behold!
Where, ghostlike in the deepening night
Cowld forms brush by in gleaming

white.

At last he sigh’d, and set forth back to Heaven.

1855.

The chapel, where no organ's peal
Invests the stern and naked prayer-
With penitential cries they kneel
And wrestle : rising then, with bare
And white uplifted faces stand,
Passing the Host from hand to hand ;

Each takes, and then his visage wan
Is buried in his cowl once more.
The cells !--the suffering Son of Man
Upon the wall-the knee-worn floor--
And where they sleep, that wooden bed.
Which shall their coffin be, when dead!

STANZAS FROM THE GRANDE

CHARTREUSE THROUGH Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from Saint Laurent goes. The bridge is cross'd, and slow we ride, Through forest, up the mountain-side. The autumnal evening darken round, The wind is up, and drives the rain ; While, bark ! far down, with siangled

sound Doth the Dead Guier's stream con plain, Where that wet smoke, among the

woods, Over his boiling cauldron broods. Swift rush the spectral vapors white Past limestone scars with ragged pines, Showing—then blotting from

sight !Halt-through the cloud-drift something

shines ! High in the valley, wet and drear, The huts of Courrerie appear. Strike leftward! cries our guide ; and

higher Mounts up the stony forest-way. At last the encircling trees retire;

The library, where tract and tome
Not to feed priestly pride are there.
To hymn the conquering march of Rome,
Nor yet to amuse, as ours are !
They paint of souls the inner strife.
Their drops of blood, their death in life.
The garden, overgrown-yet mild,
See, fragrant herbs are flowering there!
Strong children of the Alpine wild
Whose culture is the brethren's care;
Of human tasks their only one,
And cheerful works beneath the sun.
Those halls, too, destined to contain
Each its own pilgrim-lost of old,
From England, Germany, or Spain-
All are before me! I behold
The House, the Brotherhood austere!
- And what am I, that I am here?
For rigorous teachers seized my youth.
And purged its faith, and trimm'd its

fire,

Our

And wait to see the future come. They have the grief men had of yore, But they contend and cry no more.

Our fathers water'd with their tears
This sea of time whereon we sail,
Their voices were in all men's ears
We pass'd within their puissant hail.
Still the same ocean round us raves,
But we stand mute,and watch the waves.

Show'd me the high, white star of Truth, There bade me gaze, and there aspire. Even now their whispers pierce the

gloom ; What dost thou in this living tomb Forgive me, masters of the mind ! At whose behest I long ago So much unlearnt, so much resign'dI come not here to be your foe! I seek these anchorites, not in ruth, To curse and to deny your truth; Not as their friend, or child, I speak ! But as, on some far northern strand, Thinking of his own Gods, a Greek In pity and mournful awe might stand Before some fallen Runic stoneFor both were faiths, and both are gone. Wandering between two worlds, one

dead, The other powerless to be born, With nowhere yet to rest my head, Like these, on earth I wait forlorn. Their faith, my tears, the world derideI come to shed them at their side.

For what avail'd it, all the noise
And outcry of the former men ?-
Say, have their sons achieved more joys,
Say, is life lighter now than then :
The sufferers died, they left their pain-
The pangs which tortured them remain.

Oh, hide me in your gloom profound,
Ye solemn seats of holy pain !
Take me, cowl'd forms, and fence me

round
Till I possess my soul again ;
Till free my thoughts before me roll,
Not chafed by hourly false control!
For the world cries your faith is now
But a dead time's exploded dream;
My melancholy, sciolists say,
Is a pass'd mode, an outworn theme-
As if the world had ever had
A faith, or sciolists been sad !
Ah, if it be pass'd, take away,
At least, the restlessness, the pain ;
Be man henceforth no more a prey
To these out-dated stings again!
The nobleness of grief is gone-
Ah, leave us not the fret alone!
But--if you cannot give us ease-
Last of the race of them who grieve
Here leave us to die out with these
Last of the people who believe!
Silent, while years engrave the brow;
Silent-the best are silent now.
Achilles ponders in his tent,
The kings of modern thought are dumb;
Silent they are, though not content,

What helps it now, that Byron bore, With haughty scorn which mock d the

smart, Through Europe to the Ætolian shore The pageant of his bleeding heart? That thousands counted every groan, And Europe made his woe her own ? What boots it, Shelley! that the breeze Carried thy lovely wail away, Musical through Italian trees Which fringe thy soft blue Spezzian

bay ? Inheritors of thy distress Have restless hearts one throb the less? Or are we easier, to have read, () Obermann ! the sad, stern page. Which tells us how thou hidd'st thy

head From the fierce tempest of thine age In the one brakes of Fontainebleau, Or chilts near the Alpine snow ? Ye slumber in your silent gravelThe world, which for an idle day Grace to your mood of sadness gave, Long since hath flung her weeds away. The eternal trifler breaks your spell; But we-we learned your lore too well! Years hence, perhaps, may dawn an age, More fortunate, alas! than we, Which without hardness will be sage, And gay without frivolity. Sons of the world, oh, speed those y

years ; But, while we wait, allow our tears !

Allow them! We admire with awe The exulting thunder of your race; You give the universe your law,

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