Poetical Works of Matthew Arnold Part 16

Bethink ye, G.o.ds, is there no other way?-- Speak, were not this a way, the way for G.o.ds?

If I, if Odin, clad in radiant arms, Mounted on Sleipner, with the warrior Thor Drawn in his car beside me, and my sons, All the strong brood of Heaven, to swell my train, Should make irruption into Hela's realm, And set the fields of gloom ablaze with light, And bring in triumph Balder back to Heaven?"

He spake, and his fierce sons applauded loud.

But Frea, mother of the G.o.ds, arose, Daughter and wife of Odin; thus she said:-- "Odin, thou whirlwind, what a threat is this!

Thou threatenest what transcends thy might, even thine.

For of all powers the mightiest far art thou, Lord over men on earth, and G.o.ds in Heaven; Yet even from thee thyself hath been withheld One thing--to undo what thou thyself hast ruled.

For all which hath been fixt, was fixt by thee.

In the beginning, ere the G.o.ds were born, Before the Heavens were builded, thou didst slay The giant Ymir, whom the abyss brought forth, Thou and thy brethren fierce, the sons of Bor, And cast his trunk to choke the abysmal void.

But of his flesh and members thou didst build The earth and Ocean, and above them Heaven.

And from the flaming world, where Muspel reigns, Thou sent'st and fetched'st fire, and madest lights, Sun, moon, and stars, which thou hast hung in Heaven, Dividing clear the paths of night and day.

And Asgard thou didst build, and Midgard fort; Then me thou mad'st; of us the G.o.ds were born.

Last, walking by the sea, thou foundest spars Of wood, and framed'st men, who till the earth, Or on the sea, the field of pirates, sail.

And all the race of Ymir thou didst drown, Save one, Bergelmer;--he on shipboard fled Thy deluge, and from him the giants sprang.

But all that brood thou hast removed far off, And set by Ocean's utmost marge to dwell; But Hela into Niflheim thou threw'st, And gav'st her nine unlighted worlds to rule, A queen, and empire over all the dead.

That empire wilt thou now invade, light up Her darkness, from her grasp a subject tear?-- Try it; but I, for one, will not applaud.

Nor do I merit, Odin, thou should'st slight Me and my words, though thou be first in Heaven; For I too am a G.o.ddess, born of thee, Thine eldest, and of me the G.o.ds are sprung; And all that is to come I know, but lock In mine own breast, and have to none reveal'd.

Come then! since Hela holds by right her prey, But offers terms for his release to Heaven, Accept the chance; thou canst no more obtain.

Send through the world thy messengers; entreat All living and unliving things to weep For Balder; if thou haply thus may'st melt Hela, and win the loved one back to Heaven."

She spake, and on her face let fall her veil, And bow'd her head, and sate with folded hands.

Nor did the all-ruling Odin slight her word; Straightway he spake, and thus address'd the G.o.ds: "Go quickly forth through all the world, and pray All living and unliving things to weep Balder, if haply he may thus be won."

When the G.o.ds heard, they straight arose, and took Their horses, and rode forth through all the world; North, south, east, west, they struck, and roam'd the world, Entreating all things to weep Balder's death.

And all that lived, and all without life, wept.

And as in winter, when the frost breaks up, At winter's end, before the spring begins, And a warm west-wind blows, and thaw sets in-- After an hour a dripping sound is heard In all the forests, and the soft-strewn snow Under the trees is dibbled-thick with holes, And from the boughs the snowloads shuffle down; And, in fields sloping to the south, dark plots Of gra.s.s peep out amid surrounding snow, And widen, and the peasant's heart is glad-- So through the world was heard a dripping noise Of all things weeping to bring Balder back; And there fell joy upon the G.o.ds to hear.

But Hermod rode with Niord, whom he took To show him spits and beaches of the sea Far off, where some unwarn'd might fail to weep-- Niord, the G.o.d of storms, whom fishers know; Not born in Heaven; he was in Vanheim rear'd, With men, but lives a hostage with the G.o.ds; He knows each frith, and every rocky creek Fringed with dark pines, and sands where seafowl scream-- They two scour'd every coast, and all things wept.

And they rode home together, through the wood Of Jarnvid, which to east of Midgard lies Bordering the giants, where the trees are iron; There in the wood before a cave they came, Where sate, in the cave's mouth, a skinny hag, Toothless and old; she gibes the pa.s.sers by.

Thok is she call'd, but now Lok wore her shape; She greeted them the first, and laugh'd, and said:-- "Ye G.o.ds, good lack, is it so dull in Heaven, That ye come pleasuring to Thok's iron wood?

Lovers of change ye are, fastidious sprites.

Look, as in some boor's yard a sweet-breath'd cow, Whose manger is stuff'd full of good fresh hay, Snuffs at it daintily, and stoops her head To chew the straw, her litter, at her feet-- So ye grow squeamish, G.o.ds, and sniff at Heaven!"

She spake; but Hermod answer'd her and said:-- "Thok, not for gibes we come, we come for tears.

Balder is dead, and Hela holds her prey, But will restore, if all things give him tears.

Begrudge not thine! to all was Balder dear."

Then, with a louder laugh, the hag replied:-- "Is Balder dead? and do ye come for tears?

Thok with dry eyes will weep o'er Balder's pyre.

Weep him all other things, if weep they will-- I weep him not! let Hela keep her prey."

She spake, and to the cavern's depth she fled, Mocking; and Hermod knew their toil was vain.

And as seafaring men, who long have wrought In the great deep for gain, at last come home, And towards evening see the headlands rise Of their dear country, and can plain descry A fire of wither'd furze which boys have lit Upon the cliffs, or smoke of burning weeds Out of a till'd field inland;--then the wind Catches them, and drives out again to sea; And they go long days tossing up and down Over the grey sea-ridges, and the glimpse Of port they had makes bitterer far their toil-- So the G.o.ds' cross was bitterer for their joy.

Then, sad at heart, to Niord Hermod spake:-- "It is the accuser Lok, who flouts us all!

Ride back, and tell in Heaven this heavy news; I must again below, to Hela's realm."

He spoke; and Niord set forth back to Heaven.

But northward Hermod rode, the way below, The way he knew; and traversed Giall's stream, And down to Ocean groped, and cross'd the ice, And came beneath the wall, and found the grate Still lifted; well was his return foreknown.

And once more Hermod saw around him spread The joyless plains, and heard the streams of h.e.l.l.

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 gulph Of the deep inner gloom, but flittest here, In twilight, on the lonely verge of h.e.l.l, 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 G.o.ds, Nor with a hateful presence c.u.mber Heaven; And canst thou not, even here, pa.s.s pitying by?

No less than Balder have I lost the light Of Heaven, and communion with my kin; I too had once a wife, and once a child, And substance, and a golden house in Heaven-- But all I left of my own act, and fled Below, and dost thou hate me even here?

Balder upbraids me not, nor hates at all, Though he has cause, have any cause; but he, When that with downcast looks I hither came, Stretch'd forth his hand, and with benignant voice, _Welcome_, he said, _if there be welcome here,_ _Brother and fellow-sport of Lok with me!_ 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 G.o.d, And hear the pa.s.sage 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 G.o.ds 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?"

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 came Lately below, and join'd him; and the pair Frequent the still recesses of the realm 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 h.e.l.l."

He spake; and, as he ceased, a puff of wind Roll'd heavily the leaden mist aside Round where they stood, and they beheld two forms Make toward them o'er the stretching cloudy plain.

And Hermod straight perceived them, who they were Balder and Nanna; and to Balder said:-- "Balder, too truly thou foresaw'st a snare!

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 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 G.o.ds 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 hates-- Shadows 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 pa.s.s, 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 makes to land; And all are marshall'd in one flaming square Against the G.o.ds, 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 G.o.ds; Mourn for the men on earth, the G.o.ds 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 c.o.c.k shall sound alarm, And his black brother-bird from hence reply, And bucklers clash, and spears begin to pour-- Longing will stir within my breast, though vain.

But not to me so grievous, as, I know, To other G.o.ds it were, is my enforced Absence from fields where I could nothing 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.

Mine eyes are dizzy with the arrowy hail; Mine ears are stunn'd with blows, and sick for calm.

Inactive therefore let me lie, in gloom, Unarm'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."

And the ray-crowned Balder answer'd him:-- "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 G.o.ds repair; Hoder and I shall join them from the grave.

There re-a.s.sembling 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 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 gra.s.s shall find The golden dice wherewith we play'd of yore; And that will bring to mind the former life And pastime of the G.o.ds, the wise discourse Of Odin, the delights of other days, O Hermod, pray that thou may'st join us then!

Such for the future is my hope; meanwhile, I rest the thrall of Hela, and endure Death, and the gloom which round me even now Thickens, and to its inner gulph recalls.

Farewell, for longer speech is not allow'd!"

He spoke, and waved farewell, and gave his hand To Nanna; and she gave their brother blind Her hand, in turn, for guidance; and the three 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 trapp'd, And tied him in a yard, at autumn sees Flocks of his kind pa.s.s 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 cry-- So Hermod gazed, and yearn'd to join his kin.

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

TRISTRAM AND ISEULT[8]

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Tristram