Classic Poem

From the Norse.

I.

" Noble warrior! droop not thus;
Tower of strength thou hast in us.
Yonder stand our anvils ten,
Round them, see, are stalwart men —
Bare broad shoulder, sinewy limb,
Black-brow'd feature sooty-grim;
Eye like glare of smouldering fire,
Lighted with a dull desire.
These shall sweat; their hammers swinging,
They will keep the anvils ringing,
Forging thee such trusty mail,
Nought against it will prevail."

II.

" God-like artist, spare thy pain!
Strength and skill alike are vain.
When upon the destin'd day
Balder meets me in the fray,
Were my breast-plate triple steel,
If his shaft but once it feel, —
Such that weapon's magic power —
Like a guilty thing 'twill cower,
And, smit through with fear and wonder,
Shrink, and cleave, and fall asunder.
Well I know this weird is mine —
I am human, he divine."