Thus legends old The Northman sang, till, fleeting from men's eyes, The present lived no longer. In its place He fixed that vision of the world new formed, Which on the childhood of the Northern mind Like endless twilight lay;--spaces immense; Unmeasured energies of fire and flood; Great Nature's forces, terrible yet blind, In ceaseless strife alternately supreme, Or breast to breast with dreadful equipoise In conflict pressed. Once more o'er those that heard He hung that old world's low, funereal sky: Before their eyes he caused its cloud to stream Shadowing infinitude. He spake no word Like Heida of that war 'twixt Good and Ill; That peace which crowns the just; that God unknown: Enough to him his Faith without its soul! With glorying eye he marked that panting throng; Then, sudden, changed his note. Again of war He sang, but war no more of Gods on Gods; He sang the honest wars of man on man; Of Odin, king of men, ere yet, death past, He flamed abroad in godhead. Field on field He sang his battles; traced from realm to realm His conquering pilgrimage: then ended, fierce: 'What God was this--that God ye honoured once? What man was this--your half-forgotten king? Your law-giver he was! he framed your laws! Your poet he: he shaped your earliest song! Your teacher he: he taught you first your runes! Your warrior--yours! His warfare consummate, For you he died! Old age at last, sole foe Unvanquished, found him throned in Gylfi's land: Summoning his race around him thus he spake: "My sons, I scorn that age should cumber youth! Ye have your lesson--see ye keep it well! I taught you how to conquer; how to live; Now learn to die!" His dagger high he raised; Nine times he plunged it through his bleeding breast, Then sheathed it in his heart. Ere from his lips The kingly smile had vanished, he was dead!'