I .

The A LTAR OF S ACRIFICE .

" Look!" Ydun said; and pointed.

Far in the night
She had led Balder, — o'er the darken'd dales,
And by the silence of black mountain tarns,
And thro' the slumber of primaeval woods, —
Till she had come unto an open plain
Cover'd with ragged heath and strewn with stones
As with the broken fragments of some world
Upheaven, rent by earthquake. And the waste
All round was lonely and illimitable,
A tract of stone and heath without a tree,

I .

He sought him on the mountains bleak and bare
And on the windy moors;
He found his secret footprints everywhere,
Yea, ev'n by human doors.

All round the deerfold on the shrouded height
The starlight glimmer'd clear;
Therein sat Death, wrapt round with vapours white
Touching the dove-eyed deer.

And thither Balder silent-footed flew,
But found the phantom not;
The rain-wash'd moon had risen cold and blue
Above that lonely spot.

Then as he stood and listen'd, gazing round
In the pale silvern glow,

I.

" BALDER IS HERE ."

O who cometh sweetly
With singing of showers? —
The wild wind runs fleetly
Before his soft tread,
The sward stirs asunder
To radiance of flowers,
While o'er him and under
A glory is spread —
A white cloud above him
Moves on thro' the blue,
And all things that love him
Are dim with its dew:
The lark is upspringing,
The merle whistles clear,
There is sunlight and singing,
For Balder is here!

He walks on the mountains,
He treads on the snows;
He loosens the fountains
And quickens the wells;

I .

The G ODDESSES .

TheRE is a valley by the northern sea,
O'ershadow'd softly by eternal hills
And canopied by the ethereal blue.
Above it silently for ever gleam
Cold peaks of ice and snow, and over these
The wind goes, and the shadows of the wind;
While far below, the hollows of the vale
Are strewn most deep with heather and with thyme,
And weeping willows hang their silken hair
O'er dusky tarns with summer lilies sown;
And from these tarns smooth tracts of greensward slope

1.

FREA IN THE WOOD .

Blue night. Along the lonely forest way
The goddess, mighty-limb'd and marble white,
Tall in the shadow of the pines that waved
Their black arms in the moonrise overhead,
Stole silent-footed. Round her naked feet
The dews were luminous, and the breath of flowers
Rose from the scented path of grass and fern,
And all was stiller than a maiden's dream.
From grove to grove she went, like one that knew
Each shadow of that silent forest old,
And ever as she went the tangled light
That trembled on her thro' the woven boughs

1.

BALDER'S Birth -SONG .

There blent with his growing
The leaf and the flower,
The wind lightly blowing
Its balm from afar,
The smile of the sunshine,
The sob of the shower,
The beam of the moonshine,
The gleam of the star.
'Mid shining of faces
And waving of wings,
With gifts from all places
Came beautiful things;
The blush from the blossom,
The bloom from the corn,
Blent into his bosom,
Ere Balder was born.

As a rainbow in heaven
Was woven the rune,
The colours were seven
Most dim and divine:

Proem To —

A SONG OF A DREAM .

O WHAT is this cry in our burning ears,
And what is this light on our eyes, dear love?
The cry is the cry of the rolling years,
As they break on the sun-rock, far above;
And the light is the light of that rock of gold
As it burneth bright in a starry sea;
And the cry is clearer a hundredfold,
And the light more bright, when I gaze on thee.

CHORUS OF SPIRITS .

Strange hands are passing across our eyes,
Before our souls strange visions rise.
And dim shapes flash and flee.
The mists of dream are backward roll'd —
As from a mountain, we behold
What is, and yet shall be.

A VOICE .

Speak, while the depths of dream unfold,
What is it that ye see?

SEMI-CHORUS I .

'Tis vision. Lo, before us stands,

SEMI-CHORUS I .

Form of her the Titan full of patience
Sees amid the darkness of the nations;
Voice of her whose sound in the beginning
Came upon him desolate and sinning;
Face and fairest form of her whose gleaming
Soothes his gentle spirit into dreaming;
Spirit! whom the Titan sees above him!

SEMI-CHORUS II .

Gentle eyes that shine and seem to love him!
Tender touch, the thrill of her sweet fingers,
Thrill that reach'd his soul and burns and lingers;

The cup is overflowing. Pour, pour yet,
My Famulus — pour with free arm-sweep still,
And when the wine is running o'er the brim,
Sparkling with golden bubbles in the sun,
I will stoop down and drink the full great draught
Of glory, and as did those heroes old
Drinking ambrosia in the happy isles,
Dilate at once to perfect demigod.
Meantime, I feast my eyes as the wine runs
And the cup fills. Fill up, my Famulus!
Pour out the precious juice of all the earth,
Pour with great arm-sweep, that the world may see.