Classic Poem

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;
He is filling the chalice
Of lily and rose,
He is down in the valleys
And deep in the dells —
He smiles, and buds spring to him.
The bright and the dark;
He speaks, and birds sing to him,
The finch and the lark, —
He is down by the river,
He is up by the mere,
Woods gladden, leaves quiver,
For Balder is here.

There is some divine trouble
On earth and in air —
Trees tremble, brooks bubble,
Ants loosen the sod;
Warm footfalls awaken
Whatever is fair;
Sweet rain-dews are shaken
To quicken each clod.
The wild rainbows o'er him
Are melted and fade,
The grass runs before him
Thro' meadow and glade;
Green branches close round him,
The leaves whisper near —
" He is ours — we have found him —
Bright Balder is here!"

The forest glows golden
Where'er he is seen,
New flowers are unfolden,
New voices arise;
Flames flash at his passing
From boughs that grow green,
Dark runlets gleam, glassing
The stars of his eyes.
The Earth wears her brightest
Wherever he goes,
The hawthorn its whitest,
Its reddest the rose;
The days now are sunny,
The white storks appear,
And the bee gathers honey,
For Balder is here.

He is here on the heather,
And here by the brook,
And here where together
The lilac boughs cling;
He is coming and going
With love in his look,
His white hand is sowing
Warm seeds, and they spring!
He has touch'd with new silver
The lips of the stream,
And the eyes of the culver
Are bright from his beam,
He has lit the great lilies
Like lamps on the mere;
All happy and still is,
For Balder is here.

Still southward with sunlight
He wanders away —
The true light, the one light,
The new light, is he!
With music and singing
The mountains are gay,
And the peace he is bringing
Spreads over the sea.
All night, while stars twinkling
Gleam down on the glade,
His white hands are sprinkling
With harebells the shade;
And when day hath broken,
All things that dwell near
Will know, by that token,
That Balder is here.

In the dark deep dominions
Of pine and of fir,
Where the dove with soft pinions
Sits still on her nest,
He sees her, and by her
The young doves astir,
And smiling sits nigh her,
His hand on her breast;
The father-dove lingers
With love in its eyes,
Alights on his fingers,
And utters soft cries,
And the sweet colours seven
Of the rainbow appear
On its neck, as in heaven,
Now Balder is here.

He sits by a fountain
Far up near the snow,
And high on the mountain
The wild reindeer stand;
On crimson moss near to him
They feed walking slow,
Or come with no fear to him,
And eat from his hand.
He sees the ice turning
To columns of gold,
He sees the clouds burning
On crags that were cold;
The great snows are drifting
To cataracts clear,
All shining and shifting,
For Balder is here.

O who sitteth singing,
Where sunset is red,
And wild ducks are winging
Against the dark gleam?
It is he, it is Balder,
He hangeth his head
Where willow and alder
Droop over the stream;
And the purple moths find him
And hover around,
And from marshes behind him
He hears a low sound:
The frogs croak their greeting
From swamp and from mere,
And their faint hearts are beating,
For Balder is here.

The round moon is peeping
Above the low hill;
Her white light, upcreeping
Against the sun's glow,
On the black shallow river
Falls silvern and chill,
Where bulrushes quiver
And wan lilies grow.
The black bats are flitting,
Owls pass on soft wings,
Yet silently sitting
He lingers and sings —
He sings of the Maytime,
Its sunlight and cheer,
And the night like the daytime
Knows Balder is here.

He is here with the moonlight,
With night as with day,
The true light, the one light,
The new light, is he;
The moon-bows above him
Are melted away,
And the things of night love him,
And hearken and see.
He sits and he ponders,
He walks and he broods,
Or singing he wanders
'Neath star-frosted woods;
And the spheres from afar, light
His face shining clear:
Yea, the moonlight and starlight
Feel Balder is here.

He is here, he is moving
On mountain and dale,
And all things grow loving,
And all things grow bright:
Buds bloom in the meadows,
Milk foams in the pail,
There is scent in the shadows,
And sound in the light:
O listen! he passes
Thro' valleys of flowers,
With springing of grasses
And singing of showers.
Earth wakes — he has called her,
Whose voice she holds dear;
She was waiting for Balder,
And Balder is here!

II.

'Mid mountains white by rainbows spanned,
Upon his knees he sank,
And melted in his hollow'd hand
The stainless snows, and drank.

And far beneath in mists of heat
Great purple valleys slept,
And flashing bright beneath his feet
The loosen'd cataracts leapt.

Down to those happy vales he drew
Where men and women dwell,
And white snow melted, green grass grew,
Where'er his footprints fell.

Then night by night and day by day
His deepest joy was found
In watching happy things of clay
And hearing human sound.

All human eyes to him were sweet,
He loved the touch of hands,
He kissed the print of human feet
Upon the soft sea-sands.

Most silently he went and came,
With mild and blissful mien,
Bright as a beam his face would flame
Amid the forests green.

To timid mortals passing by
He seemed a vision fair,
But little children oft drew nigh,
And let him smooth their hair;

And witless men would come to him
With wild and eldritch cries,
And lying in the moonbeams dim
Would gaze into his eyes!

His voice was in the lonely wood,
And by the nameless stream, —
He shed in silent solitude
The peaceful rays of dream.

From vale to vale he went, and blest
The wild beast and the bird, —
While deep within the glad Earth's breast
The founts of being stirred. . . .

He sat down in a lonely land
Of mountain, moor, and mere,
And watch'd, with chin upon his hand,
Dark maids that milk'd the deer.

And while the sun set in the skies,
And stars shone in the blue,
They sang sweet songs, till Balder's eyes
Were sad with kindred dew.

He passed along the hamlets dim
With twilight's breath of balm,
And whatsoe'er was touch'd by him
Grew beautiful and calm.

The old man sitting on the grass
Look'd up 'neath hoary hair,
And felt some heavenly presence pass
And gladden'd unaware!

He came unto a hut forlorn
As evening shadows fell,
And saw the man among the corn,
The woman at the well.

And entering the darken'd place,
He found the cradled child;
Stooping he lookt into its face,
Until it woke and smiled!

Then Balder passed into the night
With soft and shining tread,
The cataract called upon the height,
The stars gleam'd overhead.

He raised his eyes to those cold skies
Which he had left behind, —
And saw the banners of the gods
Blown back upon the wind.

He watch'd them as they came and fled,
Then his divine eyes fell.
" I love the green Earth best," he said,
" And I on Earth will dwell!"

III.

A LL T HINGS B LEST BY B ALDER .

So when his happy feet had wander'd far,
When all the birds had brighten'd and his hand
Had linger'd on the brows of all the beasts,
He came among the valleys where abode
Mortals that walk erect upon the ground.
First, southward passing, he beheld those men
Who, where the snow for ever lieth, dwell
In caverns of the ground and swathe their limbs
In skins of beasts: these felt his glory pass,
But knew it not, because their eyes were dim
With many nights of darkness. Round their doors
Sorrel blood-red he cast and saxifrage,
And singing passed away! Then roam'd he on,
Past porphyry and greenstone crags that line
Limitless oceans of unmelting ice,
Until he enter'd valleys kindlier
That redden'd into ruby as he came;
And in among the countless deer he stole,
Marking their horns with golden moss, and singing
A strange soft song their souls could understand.

Then as the Earth grew fairer, presently
He came beneath the shade of forest leaves, —
And deep among the emerald depths he found
Those mortal men who dwell in woods and build
Their dwellings of the scented boughs of trees.
And often, with his cheek upon his hand,
Balder would sit and watch the smoke of fire
Upcurling thro' the branches heavenward,
While to and fro in sunshine passed the shapes
Of men and women. Most he loved to mark
Those forms which gods made fairest, and to hear
Those voices gods me, lo sweetest; but his hand,
Falling unseen, was gentlest on the hair
Of children and of hoary aged men.

Then Balder said, " The Earth is fair, and fair,
Yea fairer than the stormy lives of gods,
The lives of gentle dwellers on the Earth;
For shapen are they in the likenesses
Of goddesses and gods, and on their limbs
Sunlight and moonlight mingle, and they lie
Happy and calm in one another's arms
O'er-canopied with greenness; and their hands
Have fashion'd fire that springeth beautiful
Straight as a silvern lily from the ground,
Wondrously blowing; and they measure out
Glad seasons by the pulses of the stars.
O Spirit whom I know not, tho' I fear
Thy shadow on my soul where'er I go,
Almighty Father, tho thou lov'st me not,
I love thy children! I could sit all hours,
Just looking into their still heavenly eyes,
Holding their hands! Most dear they are to me,
Because they are my brethren; — beautiful,
My brethren and thy children!;"
O'er his head
The blue sky darken'd, and a thund'rous voice
Murmur'd afar off, — and in great black drops
Came out of heaven the blind and desolate rain.
But Balder gazing upward reach'd out arms
And bless'd it as it fell; and lo, it grew
Silvern and lovely as an old man's hair!
And scents came out of the rich-soilid earth,
And all the boughs were glad and Jewel-hung,
Till very softly, very silently,
The shower ceased, with kisses tremulous
On Balder's lifted hands!
Even so he turn'd
The saddest things to beauty. With his face
Came calm and consecration; and the Earth
Uplifting sightless eyes in a new joy,
Answer'd the steadfast smile of the still heavens
With one long look of peace. In those strange days
The wild wind was his playmate, — yea, the blast
New-loosen'd by the very hands of gods
Leapt to him like a lamb, and at his smile
Fell at his feet, and slept. Then out of heaven
Came lightnings, from whose terror every face
Of humankind was hidden, — meteors, flames,
Forms of the fiery levin, such as wait
For ever at the angry beck of gods.
But Balder stood upon a promontory,
And saw them shining o'er the open sea,
And on the fields of ether crimson'd red;
And lo, he lfted up a voice and cried,
" O beautiful wild children of the fire,
Whence come ye? whither go ye? Be at peace,
Come hither!" and like soft white stingless snakes
That crawl on grass, the fiery meteors came,
Licking his feet in silence, looking up
With luminous eyes!
Ev'n as he conquer'd these,
Heaven's fiery messengers, he tamed the hearts
Of human things, and in the sun they sat
Weaving green boughs, or wooing in the shade,
Or leading home the white and virgin bride,
For as the holy hunger and desire
Came quickening in the hearts of birds and beasts,
Ev'n so woke love within the hearts of men;
And out of love came children; and the Earth
Was merry with new creatures thronging forth
Like ants that quicken on the sun-kist sod.

IV.

T HE C RY FROM THE G ROUND .

And Balder bends above them, glory-crown'd,
Marking them as they creep upon the ground,
Busy as ants that toil without a sound,
With only gods to mark.
But list! O list! what is that cry of pain,
Faint as the far-off murmur of the main?
Stoop low and hearken, Balder! List again!
" Lo! Death makes all things dark!"

Ay me, it is the earthborn souls that sigh,
Coming and going underneath the sky;
They move, they gather, clearer grows their cry —
O Balder, bend, and hark!

The skies are still and calm, the seas asleep,
In happy light the mortal millions creep,
Yet listen, Balder! — still they murmur deep,
" Lo! Death makes all things dark."

[Oh, listen! listen!] " Blessed is the light,
We love the golden day, the silvern night,
The cataracts leap, the woods and streams are bright,
We gladden as we mark.

" Crying we come, but soon our cheeks are dried —
We wander for a season happy-eyed,
And we forget how our gray sires have sigh'd,
" Lo! Death makes all things dark. "

" For is the sun not merry and full of cheer?
Is it not sweet to live and feel no fear?
To see the young lambs leaping, and to hear
The cuckoo and the lark?

" Is toil not blest, is it not blest to be?
To climb the snows, to sail the surging sea,
To build our saeters where our flocks roam free?
But Death makes all things dark.

" Is love not blest, is it not brave and gay
With strong right hand to bear one's bride away,
To woo her in the night time and the day
With no strange eyes to mark?

" And blest are children, springing fair of face
Like gentle blossoms in the dwelling-place;
We clasp them close, forgetting for a space
Death makes the world so dark.

" And yet though life is glad and love divine,
This Shape we fear is here i" the summer shine, —
He blights the fruit we pluck, the wreath we twine,
And soon he leaves us stark.

" He haunts us fleetly on the snowy steep,
He finds us as we sow and as we reap,
He creepeth in to slay us as we sleep, —
Ah! Death makes all things dark!

" Yea, when afar over our nets hang we,
He walks unto us even on the sea;
The wind blows in his hair, the foam flies free
O'er many a sinking bark!

" Pity us, gods, and take this god away,
Pity us, gods, who made us out of clay,
Pity us, gods, that our sad souls may say,
" Bright is the world, which Death a space made dark. " "

V.

T HE S HADOW ON THE E ARTH .

Now all his peace was poison'd and he found
No solace in the shining eyes of day,
Starlight and moonlight now seem'd sorrowful,
And in his soul there grew the sense of tears.
For wheresoe'er he wander'd, whatsoe'er
He gazed on, whether in the light or dark,
Was troubled by a portent.
Evermore,
Listening to nature's sad unceasing moan,
Balder remember'd that pale haunting Shape
Which he had seen in those primaeval woods
Where he was foster'd by the happy Earth;
And those sad tales the mother-goddess told
Of mortal men, and how they waste and wane,
Came back upon his life with fearful gleams.
Yea, Balder's heart was heavy. All in vain
He wove wild runes around the flowers and trees,
And round the necks of beasts and gentle birds;
For evermore the cold hand found them out,
And evermore they darkly droop'd and died.
This direful thing was on the helpless Earth,
Unprison'd, unconfined. Before his face
It faded, and before his eager touch
Melted and changed, but evermore again
It gather'd into dreadful lineaments,
And passed with arms outreaching on its way.

Then Balder lifted up his trembling hands
To heaven, crying, " Father !" and no sound
Came from the frozen void; and once again,
" O Mother, Mother!" but pale Frea lay
Stone-still in anguish at the Father's feet,
And dared not answer; and he cried once more,
" Gods, gods, immortal gods!" when suddenly
He saw across the open arctic heaven
The hosts of Asgard, ev'n as sunset clouds
That drift confusedly in masses bright,
Trooping, with blood-red rays upon their heads,
To fight against the meteor snakes that flash
Far northward in the white untrodden wastes.
They passed, they saw not, but he heard their feet
Afar as muffled thunder, and he cried,
" O Slayers of the snake, immortal gods,
Come hither and slay the slayer, that the world
May rest in peace!"
If ever his faint cry
Reach'd to their ears, the dark gods only smiled,
With smiles like sullen lightning on the lips
Of tempest; and he found no comfort there.
Nor from the mouths of flower, or bird, or tree,
Sea-fern, or sighing shell upon the shore,
Came any answer when he question'd low,
" What is this thing ye fear? who sent it hither,
This shape which moaning mortals christen Death?"
But irom the darkness of his own heart's pity,
And from all things in unison — the gloom
Of midnight, and the trouble of the clouds,
From sunless waters, solitary woods,
There came a murmur, " None can answer thee,
Save him thou followest with weary feet!"

Wherefore he wander'd on, and still in vain
Sought Death the slayer. Into burial-places,
Heapen with stones and seal'd with slime of grass.
He track'd him, found him sitting lonely there
Like one that dreams, his dreadful pitiless eyes
Fix'd on the sunset star. Or oftentimes
Beheld him running swiftly like a wolf
Who scents some stricken prey along the ground.
Or saw him into empty huts crawl slow,
And while the man and woman toiled i' the field,
Gaze down with stony orbs a little space
Upon the sickly babe, which open'd eyes,
And laugh'd, and spread its little faded hands
In elfin play. Nay, oft in Balder's sight
The form seem'd gentle, and the fatal face
Grew beautiful and very strangely fair.
Yet evermore while his swift feet pursued,
Darkling it fled away, and evermore
Most pitiful rose cries of beasts and birds,
Most desolate rose moans of stricken men,
Till Balder wept for sorrow's sake, and cried,
" Help me, my Father!"
Even as he spake,
A gray cloud wept upon the Earth, which wore
A gentle darkness; and the wastes and woods,
The mountains trembling in their hoary hair,
The mighty continents and streams and seas,
Uplifted a low voice of mystery
And protestation. Then a wingid wind
Caught up the sound and bore it suddenly
To the great gates of Asgard, so that all
Within the shadowy City heard; and He
Who sitteth far beyond upon his throne,
Immortal, terrible, and desolate,
Heard, but was silent; and no answer came,
No help or answer, from the lips of heaven.

VI.

O N THE H EIGHTS — E VENING .

MOUNTAIN GIRL .

Art thou a god? thy brow is shining so!
O thou art beautiful! What is thy name?

BALDER .

Balder.

GIRL

Now let me look into thy face.

BALDER .

Look.

GIRL .

How I love thee!

BALDER .

And thy name?

GIRL .

Snow-blossom.
That is my mother standing at the door,
Shading her face and gazing up the hill.
I keep my mother's reindeer, and each night
Milk them, and drive them to their pasturage.
How clear thine eyes are! They are like that star
Up yonder, twinkling on the snow!

BALDER .

Come hither!
Thou hast bright hair like mine, and starry eyes,
Snow-blossom, and a voice like falling water;
Thy flesh is like the red snow and the white
Mingled together softly, and thy breath
Is scented like the fragrant thyme in flower.
Mine eyes have look'd on many shapes like thine —
Yet thou art fairest.

GIRL .

I am call'd Snow-blossom
Because I am not brown like other maids,
And when a little child I was so white!

BALDER .

Snow-lily!

GIRL .

They are calling — I must go —
Come down with me, and by our saeter's fire
Slumber this night, and ere thou liest down
I'll sing to thee the strange old songs I know
Of Death, and of the battle-fields of gods,
And of the wondrous City where they dwell
Yonder afar away!

BALDER .

What knowest thou
Of Death or gods?

GIRL .

Only last winter tide
I saw my father die: he drew one breath,
Then went to sleep; but when we touch'd his hands
They had no warmth, and his twain eyes were glazed,
Gazing at something that we saw not. Then
We wrapt him warm in skins and in his hands.
We set his seal-spear and his seal-hide thong,
And placed him sitting in the sunless earth,
Crouch'd resting on the ground with knees drawn up
As many a night he sat beside the fire.
And that the fierce white bear might find him not,
We wall'd him up with earth and mighty stones,
Seal'd tight with snow and water: then we said
A prayer to the good gods, and left him there
Where they might find him.

BALDER .

Hast thou seen that Death
Which smote thy father?

GIRL .

Nay! — no mortal thing
Sees him and lives. He walks about the Earth
At his good will, and smites whate'er he lists,
Both young and old. There is no spirit at all
More strong than he!

BALDER .

Is he a god?

GIRL .

I know not.

BALDER .

And will thy father waken?

GIRL .

When the gods
Find out his grave, and open up the stones,
Then he will waken, and will join the hosts
Of Hermod and of Thor; for he was brave,
My father: he could keep his own, and ere
He took my mother, with his spear he slew
Her father and her brother, who were wroth
Because they hated him; and evermore
When he shed blood, he made his offering
To Hermod and the rest.

BALDER .

And thou, Snow-blossom,
Thou in thy turn wilt wed a mighty man,
And bear strong children?

GIRL .

Yes! — a man of strength,
Fair like my father. I would have him fierce
As bears are, bearded, a seal-strangler, swift,
And a great hunter with a boat and dogs.
But I would have him very cunning too,
Knowing old songs and wise at weaving runes,
That in the season when the sun is fled
We might be merry thro' the long cold nights
Waiting for summer!

BALDER .

Hark!

GIRL .

It is my mother
Calling again! Wilt thou not come?

BALDER .

Go thou!
I shall fare further o'er the summer hills.
Snow-blossom! Let me kiss thee ere thou goest!

GIRL .

Yes!

BALDER .

Now farewell! ...
How lightly down the height
She leapeth with the leaping cataract,
And now she turns and waves her little hand,
And plunging down she fades. And in the world
Dwell countless thousands beautiful as she,
Happy and virgin, drinking with no pain
The vital air of heaven! O pink flesh
Over the warm nest of a singing heart
Heap'd soft as blossoms! O strange starry eyes
Of mortals, beautiful as mine! O flame
Out of soft nostrils trembling, like the light
From lips of flowers! O wonder of Earth's life,
Why is it that the great gods chase thee down?
Why is it that thou fallest evermore
When thou art fairest? Up and down the world
Each creature walks, and o'er each red mouth hangs
Breath like a little cloud, faint smoke of breath
Blown from the burning of the fire within.
Great gods, if as they say ye fashion'd them,
Why do ye suffer this wild wind of doom
To wither what ye made so wonderful?

The vale is dark, the snow-fields on the height
Are purpled with the midnight. . . . Steadfastly
One lamp shines in the valley, and above
The still star shines an answer. Slumber well,
Snow-blossom! May no shadow of the gods
Come near to trouble thee in thy repose!
Sleep like immortal raiment wrap thee round,
To charm away the rayless eyes of Death!

VII .

T HE V OW OF B ALDER .

Bright Balder cried, " Curst be this thing
Which will not let man rest,
Slaying with swift and cruel sting
The very babe at breast!

" On man and beast, on flower and bird,
He creepeth evermore;
Unseen he haunts the Earth; unheard
He crawls from door to door.

" I will not pause in any land,
Nor sleep beneath the skies,
Till I have held him by the hand
And gazed into his eyes!"