So on the floor lay Balder dead; and round Lay thickly strewn swords, axes, darts, and spears, Which all the gods in sport had idly thrown At Balder, whom no weapon pierced or clove; But in his breast stood fixed the fatal bough Of mistletoe, which Lok the Accuser gave To Hoder, and unwitting Hoder threw threw-- ’Gainst that alone had Balder’s life no charm. And all the gods and all the heroes came, And stood round Balder on the bloody floor, Weeping and wailing; and Valhalla rang Up to its golden roof with sobs and cries; And on the tables stood the untasted meats, And in the horns and gold-rimmed sculls the wine. And now would night have fallen, and found them yet Wailing; but otherwise was Odin’s will. And thus the Father of the ages spake:-- “Enough of tears, ye gods, enough of wail! Not to lament in was Valhalla made. If any here might weep for Balder’s death, I most might weep, his father; such a son I lose to-day, so bright, so loved a god. But he has met that doom which long ago The Nornies, when his mother bare him, spun, And fate set seal, that so his end must be. Balder has met his death, and ye survive. Weep him an hour, but what can grief avail? For ye yourselves, ye gods, shall meet your doom,-- All ye who hear me, and inhabit heaven, And I too, Odin too, the lord of all. But ours we shall not meet, when that day comes, With women’s tears and weak complaining cries: Why should we meet another’s portion so? Rather it fits you, having wept your hour, With cold dry eyes, and hearts composed and stern, To live, as erst, your daily life in heaven. By me shall vengeance on the murderer Lok, The foe, the accuser, whom, though gods, we hate, Be strictly cared for, in the appointed day. Meanwhile, to-morrow, when the morning dawns, Bring wood to the seashore to Balder’s ship, And on the deck build high a funeral pile, And on the top lay Balder’s corpse, and put Fire to the wood, and send him out to sea To burn; for that is what the dead desire.” So spake the king of gods, and straightway rose, And mounted his horse Sleipner, whom he rode; And from the hall of heaven he rode away To Lidskialf, and sate upon his throne, The mount, from whence his eye surveys the world. And far from heaven he turned his shining orbs To look on Midgard, and the earth, and men. And on the conjuring Lapps he bent his gaze, Whom antlered reindeer pull over the snow; And on the Finns, the gentlest of mankind, Fair men, who live in holes under the ground; Nor did he look once more to Ida’s plain, Nor toward Valhalla and the sorrowing gods; For well he knew the gods would heed his word, And cease to mourn, and think of Balder’s pyre. But in Valhalla all the gods went back From around Balder, all the heroes went;