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me, we come

holds her prey, ings give him

all was Balder

laugh, the hag

do ye come for

will weep o'er ings, if weep they tela keep her prey." the cavern's depth nod knew their toil

men, who long have or gain, at last come ing see the headlands Juntry, and can plain d furze which boys have , or smoke of burning

1 field inland;-then the

and drives out again to long days tossing up and y sea-ridges, and the glimpse had makes bitterer far their

s' cross was bitterer for their

id at heart, to Niord Hermod ke:

e accuser Lok, who flouts us all! k, and tell in Heaven this heavy

again below, to Hela's realm." joke; and Niord set forth back to Heaven.

orthward Hermod rode, the way below,

ray he knew; and traversed Giall's stream,

down to Ocean groped, and cross'd the ice,

I came beneath the wall, and found the grate

Still lifted; well was his return fore

known.

And once more Hermod saw around him spread

The joyless plains, and heard the streams of Hell.

But as he enter'd, on the extremest bound

Of Niflheim, he saw one ghost come

near,

Hovering, and stopping oft, as if afraid— Hoder, the unhappy, whom his own hand slew.

And Hermod look'd, and knew his brother's ghost,

And call'd him by his name, and sternly said:

"Hoder, ill-fated, blind in heart and eyes!

Why tarriest thou to plunge thee in the gulf

Of the deep inner gloom, but flittest here, In twilight, on the lonely verge of Hell, Far from the other ghosts, and Hela's throne?

Doubtless thou fearest to meet Balder's voice,

Thy brother, whom through folly thou didst slay."

He spoke; but Hoder answer'd him, and said:

"Hermod the nimble, dost thou still pursue

The unhappy with reproach, even in the grave?

For this I died, and fled beneath the gloom,

Not daily to endure abhorring Gods,
Nor with a hateful presence cumber
Heaven;

And canst thou not, even here, pass pity

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 side. Or is he mingled with the unnumber'd dead?

Lok triumphs still, and Hela keeps her prey.

No more to Asgard shalt thou come, nor lodge

In thy own house, Breidablik, nor enjoy 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 auswer'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 Gods 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 award Their ineffectual feuds and feeble hatesShadows of hates, but they distress 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 on, The generations pass, the ages grow. And bring us nearer to the final day When from the south shall march the 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 makesto 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 us then."

He spake; but Balder answer'd him, and said :

"Mourn 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 Asgard'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,

My father, and his pride, the warrior Thor.

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

Yet, doubtless, when the day of battle comes,

And the two hosts are marshall'd, and in Heaven

The golden-crested cock shall sound alarm,

And his black brother-bird from hence reply,

And bucklers clash, and spears begin to

"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 repair;

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 preserved,

Who then shall live in peace, as now in

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.
Thou art

Knock; pass the wicket!

come

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
Cowl'd forms brush by in gleaming
white.

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!

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-host 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,