But earnestly I longed to hover near, Not too far off, when that thou camest by; To feel the presence of a brother god, And hear the passage of a horse of heaven, For the last time--for here thou com’st no more.” He spake, and turned to go to the inner gloom. But Hermod stayed him with mild words, and said,-- “Thou doest well to chide me, Hoder blind! Truly thou say’st, the planning guilty mind Was Lok’s: the unwitting hand alone was thine. But gods are like the sons of men in this: When they have woe, they blame the nearest cause. Howbeit stay, and be appeased; and tell, Sits Balder still in pomp by Hela’s side, Or is he mingled with the unnumbered dead?” And the blind Hoder answered him and spake,-- “His place of state remains by Hela’s side, But empty; for his wife, for Nanna, came Lately below, and joined him; and the pair Frequent the still recesses of the realm Of Hela, and hold converse undisturbed. But they too, doubtless, will have breathed the balm Which floats before a visitant from heaven, And have drawn upward to this verge of hell.” He spake; and, as he ceased, a puff of wind Rolled heavily the leaden mist aside Round where they stood, and they beheld two forms Make toward them o’er the stretching cloudy plain. And Hermod straight perceived them, who they were,-- Balder and Nanna; and to Balder said,-- “Balder, too truly thou foresaw’st a snare! Lok triumphs still, and Hela keeps her prey. No more to Asgard shalt thou come, nor lodge In thy own house Breidablik, nor enjoy The love all bear toward thee, nor train up Forset, thy son, to be beloved like thee. Here must thou lie, and wait an endless age. Therefore for the last time, O Balder, hail!” He spake; and Balder answered him, and said,-- “Hail and farewell! for here thou com’st no more. Yet mourn not for me, Hermod, when thou sitt’st In heaven, nor let the other gods lament, As wholly to be pitied, quite forlorn. For Nanna hath rejoined me, who of old, In heaven, was seldom parted from my side; And still the acceptance follows me, which crowned My former life, and cheers me even here. The iron frown of Hela is relaxed When I draw nigh, and the wan tribes of dead Love me, and gladly bring for my award Their ineffectual feuds and feeble hates,-- Shadows of hates, but they distress them still.” And the fleet-footed Hermod made reply,-- “Thou hast, then, all the solace death allows,-- Esteem and function; and so far is well. Yet here thou liest, Balder, underground, Rusting forever; and the years roll on, The generations pass, the ages grow, And bring us nearer to the final day When from the south shall march the fiery band, And cross the bridge of heaven, with Lok for guide, And Fenris at his heel with broken chain;